“And I...I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too,” Harvey told him. “But if you don’t call Levi back, I’ll find him. I should...” He swallowed. Rebecca had been right to suspect Harvey. It’d taken Harvey years too long, but he was finally ready to betray his best friend. “I should be helping him.”
Narinder bit his lip, and Harvey tried not to stare—even if staring at him was all he’d done lately. He wondered if Narinder ever stared back.
“Fine,” Narinder breathed. “I’ll talk to him.”
ENNE
“How many people will come?” Enne asked, sliding into a chair at the head of the rickety table. Already the small private room above the Catacombs had run out of seats. Levi took the place beside her. Grace, Roy, and Tock across from them. Narinder and Harvey claimed the last chairs.
“I’m not sure, but Harrison mentionedhe’dbe here,” Levi told her darkly, nodding at Harvey.
Enne didn’t want to look at the Chainer. The last time they’d seen each other, Harvey had dragged Jac’s body out of St. Morse. He looked better now, his curls freshly cut instead of wild, his posture not so slouched—but maybe that was because Enne had only ever seen him in the darkness of Bryce’s shadow.
“I don’t remember inviting you,” Levi told Harvey gruffly. “In fact, I think you should leave.”
“Iinvited him,” Narinder answered tightly.
Harvey scanned the room as though counting the number of weapons in it. He swallowed. “I want to help,” he rasped.
“Oh, I think you’ve helped enough,” Levi grunted.
“Who is he?” Enne heard Roy lean over and whisper to Grace.
Grace sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re just meant for decoration.” But even so, Enne spotted them interlacing their fingers beneath the table.
Levi gave Enne a pointed look. Enne didn’t trust Harvey, either, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t useful. He knew more about Bryce and Rebecca than any of them, should he be willing to divulge their secrets. But her and Levi’s partnership was still new and tenuous, and she didn’t want to argue.
“You should leave,” Enne told Harvey.
The hurt in Harvey’s face shouldn’t have cut her like it did. After all, how many afternoons had she and Lola spent at the Guild while Harvey had lied through his smiles? His grin was like a crocodile’s, always bearing its teeth. She should know better.
Anger coursed across Narinder’s face. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if—”
“Don’t bother,” Harvey mumbled, standing up, his expression grim. “I’ll just—”
But as he turned around, he bumped into Harrison Augustine in the doorway. Dressed in a very non-South Side checkered suit and flanked by three girls, Harrison had never looked more like the heir to a criminal empire. He and Sophia Torren wore matching somber expressions, while the two other girls—arm in arm and smelling of department store perfume—clearly did not belong.
Enne’s eyes widened as she recognized one of them: Poppy Prescott, her companion at all of Vianca’s South Side parties, and whom she hadn’t seen since November. In the Spirits’ white gloves and without her contacts, shame snaked in Enne’s stomach. Every interaction with Poppy had been a lie, and her old friend would obviously hate her for it.
But instead of glares, Poppy’s face brightened when she saw Enne. She waved.
Harrison placed his hand protectively on Harvey’s shoulder. “You can stay,” he said, then he claimed Harvey’s seat, leaving him and the three other newcomers to stand along the wall. Harrison’s lips formed a thin line as he inspected the room—the cheap Faith memorabilia on the walls and the pitcher of cheaper beer at the table’s center. “Well, I should’ve expected this when Levi said you were hosting such a meeting at anightclub.”
“This is a respectable business,” Narinder grumbled at the same time Levi smirked and said, “Right, Pop. Thanks for coming.”
Harrison scowled. “So...is this everyone?”
Tock’s gaze flickered to Enne’s, and Enne stiffened, guessing the reason for the heat behind her gaze. She would’ve tried to contact Lola if she had any idea where she was, and judging from what Levi had told her, her second obviously didn’t want to be found.
Enne cleared her throat. “Yes. There are eleven of us here. We make up half the players in the game.”
“More than that,” Sophia said quietly. “Now that four of the players are dead.”
A somberness settled over the room. The music downstairs, though distant, pulsed faintly through the floor. It felt as though the City of Sin was out there, and them in here. Or maybe it was the other way around. New Reynes wasn’t lights and cards and debauchery—it was the blurry line between friends and enemies, the smile of someone you used to know, the ghost of a victim gone, the dagger edge of a legend.
Enne took it upon herself to break the silence. “The death count will only rise if we don’t do something about it.”
