“The Mizer and the orb-maker,” Bryce breathed, beaming at Enne and Levi, his two chess pieces. “And now the Bargainer is truly dead.”
“You planned this,” Enne growled. “Allof this.”
Bryce grinned wider, and he had a smile like a sneer. “After I turned in Lourdes Alfero, her possessions remained in the House of Shadows—my old home. I’d suspected she knew you, of course. Imagine my surprise when I broke into her account and found two orbs from the Shadow Game, each filled with the life source of the last remaining Mizer.”
Enne remembered that day well—she’d visited the bank with Lola. But they’d found only one of those orbs left behind.
“That’s how you tied the shade to me,” Enne realized. Delaney had said shades needed something of the person to bind to. “And Levi?”
“We were both already connected to Vianca, and thus, connected to each other.” Bryce took out his Shadow Card, the Magician, and examined its artwork fondly. “The game was more complicated. I didn’t have belongings of all of yours—especially not the Bargainer. And so I cast a shade that delivered the cards to each of you, and a second once they were in your possessions. I’m quite proud of that trick. Irons-worthy, wouldn’t you say?”
He sent Levi an especially wide smile, which Levi, glaring and half-slumped over Poppy’s shoulder, didn’t return.
Not even Vianca, the Chancellor, or Sedric Torren had ever made Enne feel so powerless. Nearly every detail of her life in New Reynes had been orchestrated. No wonder Rebecca didn’t kill her that day in the Mole station. Enne been worse than a chess piece—she’d been her and Bryce’s puppet. The overly complicated, bloody game had not been designed to be won, but to trick her. All because they needed a Mizer and an orb-maker to kill the Bargainer. And that made everything she was—everything she had ever been—meaningless.
Beside Enne, Grace pointed her pistol at Bryce’s head.
“You know that won’t work against me,” he told her calmly. “Besides, it’s all over now, isn’t it? I’ve gotten what I wanted. The shade remains, but the game is finished.”
“No. Not until we’ve won,” Grace snapped.
Behind him, Rebecca appeared. She placed a hand on Bryce’s shoulder, and there was something regal about how they stood, silhouettes in the dark.
Grace squeezed Enne’s shoulder. “Don’t hesitate,” she murmured, and Enne nodded, even though inside, she struggled to regain herself. She didn’t have Grace’s anger to fuel her through what seemed an impossible battle. And she was tired of fighting. Tired of losing people she cared about.
Then Grace strode away and pointed her knife at Rebecca. “She’s mine.”
As if in response, Rebecca grinned and changed form in front of their eyes. She grew taller, her features older. In moments, she morphed into the figure of Ivory, with all the ease of exchanging one mask for another. And the long white hair, the haunted expression, was certainly more menacing than the ninteen-year-old’s. Though Rebecca had never been the true Ivory, only an impersonator, there was a weight to that legend. Fear.
Even more so. After all, Ivory had been the most notorious killer of the North Side.
And Rebecca had been the one to kill her.
“Grace,” Enne warned, reaching for her. No matter how much Grace wanted this, Enne couldn’t lose two friends tonight.
But Grace seemed to change, too. Into the girl Enne recognized from when they’d first met, the girl who’d settled for a life of butchery because she was desperate.
“You’re not sick anymore?” she called to Rebecca.
Rebecca shook her head. “Good as new.”
“Good,” Grace said, laying her gun on the ground and kicking it away. Delaney frowned and hastily picked it up. “Then this will be a fair fight.”
The two girls threw themselves at one another. They were equally skilled, equally matched, their movements mesmerizing in their deftness.
But Enne’s thoughts snagged on something both Bryce and Rebecca said. That Rebecca was better now. That they’d gotten what they wanted.
“If youarethe Bargainer,” Enne said to Bryce carefully. “Then you could cure Levi, too.”
At the room’s edge, Levi’s eyes widened. “I’m not taking any help—”
“You’redying,Levi,” Enne growled at him, tears springing from her eyes. “I know you want to be the hero, but it doesn’t have to end like this.” She studied the way his legs quaked at keeping him upright, even as he leaned against the wall. Sweat glistened across his forehead. “I don’t want you to be some North Side legend. I want you to bealive.Withme.”
Behind them, the second group arrived: Sophia, Lola, Tock, Justin, and Narinder ran in. And unlike Enne, who was only just mustering her resolve, Justin wasted no time making a decision. He lifted his gun and fired.
To Enne’s shock, the bullet hit Bryce—it didn’t go through him as if Bryce were smoke, the way it once had in St. Morse Casino. But, much the same as Arabella, it didn’t faze him. The metal pellet fell to the ground.
“Just because you’re not a player doesn’t mean you can hurt me, either,” Bryce told him coolly. Enne realized now why the bullet had struck—Justin didn’t have a card, so Bryce wasn’t his Gamemaster.
