“Put. The scalpel.Down,” Enne grunted.
“Or what?” Lola baited. “You’ll shoot me?”
Lola jerked her head to the side, as though offering Enne the ear she had left, and Enne truly felt one breath away from falling apart. So she did the only thing she could to end this before the Scarhands did for her—she moved. Swiftly, she brought down the handle of the gun on Lola’s wrist. The knife dropped and hit the floor with a clatter. Just like Grace had taught her: a hand to the shoulder, a knee in the side, and Enne twisted Lola’s arm behind her back.
Then, when the Dove lunged hungrily for the scalpel, Enne kicked it away—it screeched as it slid down the hallway. One of the Scarhands hurriedly grabbed it.
“I’m sorry,” Enne breathed. Then she shoved Lola aside and hoisted the Dove up a second time. She hauled him toward the stairs, the group of Scarhands trailing behind her.
“Is it true?” the one with the tattoo asked, looking at her with greater respect. “This Dove set us all up?”
Enne nodded. “And I’m going to make sure he pays for it.”
She stopped at the edge of the stairs, studying the angry crowd that awaited her below.
Most of the Scarhands who’d stayed behind today weren’t fighters—they were counterfeiters, salespeople, bookkeepers—and the grunts remaining were injured from St. Morse. But the sheer size of the Scarhands’ numbers had forced the Spirits shoulder to shoulder in the parlor’s corner, and Enne swallowed, watching Marcy hold one of the cats protectively, listening to Roy argue with a nearby Scarhand.
“It was a trap,” Roy snarled. “And it was dark. I couldn’t see—”
“Henning had a speed talent. He couldn’t have—”
Enne cleared her throat as she descended the stairs. It took her three attempts until the tumult of the room quieted. Everyone’s eyes turned to her, and she took a deep breath. She still felt dazed from the shock of what had happened, but the danger hadn’t passed yet. No matter her well-being, no matter the pressure, every one of her next moves had to be perfect.
“This boy tricked us,” Enne said, pushing the Dove down the last few steps so he fell in a pathetic heap on the floor. “He wasn’t hiding from the Doves—he wanted to be found. And he gave us information that led us straight into an ambush.”
One of the Scarhands in the front spit on his face.
But the one beside him didn’t look appeased.
“Him?”she asked incredulously. “He’s a mess. Why would you believe anything he told you?”
“Because we didn’t think the Doves were capable of such a trick. The message Jonas sent me said Ivory was dead.”
This earned gasps of surprise, and Enne decided against explaining what Jonas had truly meant. Better to have the Scarhands believe that their brilliant lord would’ve made the same mistake as she had. Better to have them believe that Enne wasn’t to blame.
Beside her, Lola squeezed past Enne and shoved her way to the front door. Enne wanted to apologize, but she was in an impossible position. And for as many times as Lola had criticized Enne’s miscalculations, Lola had never offered her solutions, either.
Enne pressed her revolver against the Dove’s temple.
“The price of these crimes is execution,” Enne spoke. “Is there anyone who objects to this?”
The crowd in the foyer remained silent, and some of the fury in the room dissipated. For the first time since she’d left the sewers, Enne felt a small ounce of control.
But before she could pull the trigger, someone—a boy—said, “I do.”
Enne froze and looked up. She’d turned away as Lola left, so she hadn’t seen Levi enter. Enne swallowed a wave of nausea as Levi’s gaze wandered to the Scarhands—she hadn’t told him about her deal with Mansi. He glanced out the window, where Lola undoubtedly had run off in tears, and then he stared at the soiled brown in Enne’s boots from the sewers, at the flecks of blood on her clothes.
That idea came from somewhere, and I think you don’t want to admit that, Levi had told her only yesterday about how she’d killed Jac, and shame seeped into Enne’s stomach. She was confirming everything he’d accused her of.
“You don’t...” Enne started but her voice caught in her throat.Understand.
“If you can all wait for your blood,” Levi said coolly, “I need a moment to speak to Séance in private.”
He’d used her street name, not her real name, even if it wasn’t a secret anymore. Every time they saw each other, their relationship broke a little more, a crack spreading farther across a pane of glass. And she’d certainly shattered her friendship with Lola completely.
The gun in her hand—thatgun—suddenly hurt too much to hold, and Enne shoved it in her pocket, out of sight. It burned there, too.
“A moment,” Enne murmured in agreement, nodding at Grace to take her place watching over the Dove.
