Ace Of Shades: the gripping first novel in a new series full of magic, danger and thrilling scandal when one girl enters the City of Sin

Levi owed Lourdes Alfero a big favor, but that was from four years ago. He’d always assumed she’d gotten herself killed—all the monarchists did eventually.

“Are you quite certain this is Mr. Glaisyer?” the missy asked Jac.

“Think carefully,” Levi said, winking at him. “Better be sure.”

Jac plopped on the couch, and the girl tried to subtly scoot away from him. He made a show of throwing his hands up in the air. “You meant the other Levi Glaisyer. Terribly sorry, missy. But dont’cha worry, the other Levi Glaisyer is a real nice fellow. Nothing like this guy.”

Levi tossed his jacket and hat on the coffee table. “He’s a bank teller. Three kids. Nice house on the South Side. Not even a splotch on his criminal record. Instead, you’ve got me. Best card dealer in the city. The Iron Lord.” Chez rolled his eyes. “Though I like to call myself a businessman more than, well, a con man.” He claimed the seat on her other side.

“There’s no other Levi Glaisyer,” she whispered, her lip quivering.

“Jac, you didn’t tell me she was a smart one.”

“Then...there must be some mistake,” she stammered. To her credit, she managed to keep her chin snobbishly high. Maybe Levi wasn’t the only one here with some bravado.

“Why else would such a fine Bellamy lady like yourself be looking for someone like me in the City of Sin, if not by mistake?” By her large purse, well-made clothing and leather pointed-toe heels, Levi bet she carried some decent voltage. “How about you give us your purse and we forget this ever happened? Maybe I’m not the other Levi Glaisyer, but I’m still a generous man.”

“No,” she said. Her voice cracked, and he couldn’t tell if the word was a plea or a refusal.

“Might want to repeat that,” Levi warned. “I don’t think I heard you right.” Chez walked up beside him, flipping his knife between his hands so fast the blade was a blur of silver.

She shrank away and choked a bit, like she was trying to keep from crying, holding her hand over her mouth and shaking all over. Muck. He hated when missies cried.

Unmoved, Chez ripped her purse from her hands and threw it to Mansi, who caught it as nimbly as in one of her card tricks. Half the contents fell out—a passport, a few loose buttons, several cookies and a folded piece of paper. Smirking at the mess, Levi picked up the last item. It was a letter with fancy, precise handwriting:

Dearest,

I hate to think of the worry I’ve caused you. I am well and missing you. Although I have encountered a little trouble that has delayed my return, I plan to leave in a few days. By the time this letter reaches you, I’ll be eagerly sailing home.

If a storm were to further delay my return or another unforeseen circumstance occurs, you can speak to Mr. Levi Glaisyer, a friend of mine who lives in New Reynes. He will be glad to help you.

With much love,

Lourdes

Levi’s stomach knotted. Lourdes. He knew that name.

Chez peered over Levi’s shoulder blankly. “What’s it say?”

Levi didn’t respond. The girl watched him with wide, puffy brown eyes, hugging her arms to herself.

He pointed to the letter. “By ‘Lourdes,’ I’m guessing this is...”

She shook her head indignantly and reached to snatch the letter from him. He moved it away from her reach.

“Relax, missy. It’s just a question. Do you know Lourdes Alfero or not?”

She took a deep breath to compose herself and wiped away the tearstains on her cheek. “I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Jac stiffened with recognition and met Levi’s eyes. His expression seemed to prod, This changes things, right?

Levi looked away. Of course it changed things. His best friend had a low opinion of Levi’s conscience. Levi owed a debt to Lourdes—at the very least, he’d hear the missy out.

“Would you three leave me and Miss...” He paused and looked at her.

“Miss Salta. But you may call me Enne.” Despite still tearing up, her voice remained controlled and steady. She spoke more formally than the managers at St. Morse did when addressing their rich patrons, but her jaw was locked, her fists clenched. She wouldn’t forgive him so easily for trying to cheat her—not that Levi cared what she thought of him. He wasn’t trying to be a gentleman; he was trying to pay his debts.

“Could you leave me and Enne alone for a few minutes? Leave her purse.”

Chez’s jaw dropped, but Jac put his hand on his shoulder and steered him away. Mansi tossed the purse on the table before they all left through the back door.

When Levi was certain they were alone, he asked, “How do you know Alfero?”

“Lourdes is my mother. I traveled here because I need you to find her.”

I take it, after writing this letter, Levi thought, Alfero never did make it home. He was liking this day less and less, and it was barely eleven in the morning. “You came a long way, and this place isn’t much like Bellamy.”

“No, it’s not,” she said flatly. “But the reputation of New Reynes is the least of my worries.”

That was her first mistake.

If she’d known anything about her mother, she wouldn’t have gone within a hundred feet of whiteboots, much less actually approach them.

Which meant Levi had the unfortunate job of telling her that her mother was almost certainly dead.

He studied her. If she didn’t share Alfero’s blood name, she must’ve been her split daughter, with a blood talent inherited from her father. Enne Alfero Salta. From what he remembered of Alfero—a devoted journalist, a staunch progressive and a profound political mind—Levi couldn’t picture her walking out with someone with a dancing talent. She’d seemed too serious for that. Nor did he recall her being particularly interested in men. It’d been four years ago, but Levi still remembered the determined fury in her eyes. The Republic had wronged her in a way she could never forgive.

Whatever her cause had been, Levi wondered, was it worth dying for? Worth leaving behind a daughter for?

He doubted it. Nothing was worth that price.

She cleared her throat. “Tell me, Mr. Glaisyer—”

“Call me Levi.”

“Tell me, Levi, why would the whiteboots be so interested in my mother?” She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a bronze coin, which she squeezed the way gamblers squeezed dice before they tossed them. Like a prayer.

Levi hesitated, not wanting to deliver the bad news so fast. She’d only just she stopped crying. Instead, he said, “You don’t look much like her.” The Lourdes Alfero he remembered was tall, nearly as tall as him, and with blond hair much lighter than Enne’s brown. She’d dressed fluidly—some days as a woman, sometimes as neither male nor female—and her angled features lent themselves easily to her identity. She preferred to be addressed as “she” and “her.”

He didn’t see any of Lourdes’s face in Enne’s.

“Lourdes is my adopted mother,” Enne explained. “But I can tell you’re stalling. Why were the whiteboots so interested in her?”

Levi sighed. She might not know much about New Reynes, but she wasn’t thick. “She’s a Mizer sympathizer. A famous one, at that.”

“What?” Her voice came out in a screech. Maybe she wasn’t as controlled as Levi had first thought.

He supposed he couldn’t blame her slip. Even if the way Chancellor Malcolm Semper governed the Republic was wildly unpopular, the Mizers had been tyrants. In New Reynes, where the Revolution began, men, women and children had cheered in Liberty Square as the royal family was beheaded. Most viewed the monarchists as radicals.

“Ever since the Revolution—especially during the Great Street War, which occurred seven or so years after—there’s been a group of journalists writing for monarchist newspapers. They use code names to expose stories the wigheads try to keep quiet, and they work in secret. They call themselves the Pseudonyms. Lourdes is one of them.” The most famous of them all, even. “The whiteboots have been searching for her for a long time.” And, sometime in the past four months, they’d probably found her.

Levi paused, gauging Enne’s reaction. “Did you really have no idea?”

She bit her lip. “I knew Lourdes had her secrets, but no, I never would’ve guessed this.”

Levi held his breath as he watched the gravity of her mother’s situation dawn on her. He didn’t need to tell her that Alfero was dead. She could probably guess it herself now.

“Do you know where Lourdes might be?” Enne asked, still using present tense. Levi sighed inwardly.

“I haven’t spoken to her in years,” he told her.

“What?” She frowned. “Then why would she recommend you?”

“I’ve got no idea. About four years ago, I got myself into a lot of trouble with a con gone wrong.” And apparently, he thought, I haven’t learned my lesson. “Lourdes paid my way out of it and got me a steady job at St. Morse.”

“St. Morse?”

“The casino. You must’ve heard of it. It’s one of the two largest in the city.”

She pulled a book out of her pocket, and Levi snorted. A tourist guide. “I think I’ve heard of it,” she said, skimming through the pages until she found the passage she was looking for. “Oh. It says not to go there.”

He glanced at the title. The City of Sin, a Guidebook: Where To Go and Where Not To. If she’d paid more attention to her guidebook, then she’d never have followed Chez into Olde Town, the heart of Iron territory. She would’ve left the harbor and gone straight to the South Side, where she clearly belonged.

Levi stood up and reached for his hat on the table.

“Where are you going?” Enne asked.

“Out. There are volts to make and people to cheat.” He flashed her a smile. She was lucky he hadn’t cheated her. He was feeling sentimental today.

“But you didn’t finish your story,” she blurted.

“That is the story. Lourdes helped me out, she got me a job and then she disappeared. I haven’t spoken to her since.”

Enne stood up, her shoulders square and her expression a challenge. He wondered if she really felt that brave, or if she was a breath away from tears again. “But you must help me. I have to find her.”

“I must help you?” he said, taking a step closer. She wasn’t very intimidating, small as she was. Not many spoke to him the way she did. “Why should I? I don’t know you. I barely know your mother.”

“Because...” Her voice wavered. “Because I’ll pay you.”

“You lost your luggage. How many volts could you possibly have on you right now?” His eyes traveled from her purse to her pockets. He doubted she had more than a few hundred.

But...that was a few hundred closer to his ten thousand. Maybe he was feeling a bit altruistic after all.

“Lourdes has a bank account,” Enne said, with the kind of seriousness that made Levi think she wasn’t lying. He searched her face for a tell—everyone always had a tell, a break in their poker face. But he found none.

“It has more volts than you could want,” she continued. “If you help me find her, I’ll pay you.”

“How much?” he asked.

“Five thousand volts,” she said unflinchingly.

He stilled. Did she really have that kind of voltage? She did look like she came from money, as Lourdes always had, too.

Maybe she had five thousand volts. Maybe she had more.

“Sorry,” he said, faking disinterest. “I don’t have time for this. I’m not the sort of guy who helps damsels in distress.”

“Ten thousand volts,” she declared.

Gotcha.

He narrowed his eyes, as if considering. He let a few moments pass, and as he waited, the boldness in her dark eyes never faded. A few minutes ago, she’d been in tears, but she wasn’t broken.

But would she be, once she realized her mother was probably dead?

Maybe Alfero is still alive, Levi thought. After all, she’d survived this long. That alone was impressive.

But unlikely. And a good player knew better than to bet against those kind of odds.

“I’m listening,” he said. “But I’m going to need some incentive up front. Who knows how long it could take to find her?”

“I’ll give you one thousand volts,” she offered, “but not until the end of the day. You said yourself that you barely know Lourdes. I want to make sure you can help me at all.”

If he pressed her for more, she’d probably relent. After all, she could play at being brave all she wanted, but Levi knew better. She’d left her belongings behind to follow Chez straight into the heart of the North Side—she was desperate.

But he didn’t haggle. He didn’t want to scare her away and lose the possibility—even if it was slim—for ten thousand volts, for a chance to save himself. After all, he was desperate, too.

If the day ended without a lead, then Levi would take his one thousand volts tonight and leave her in the dust. Even if ten thousand would cover his entire debt to Sedric, he still doubted that Lourdes Alfero was even alive. He couldn’t afford to waste time on a pointless search.

“We’ll start with a friend of mine,” Levi said. “He can answer our questions.”

Enne’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Is your friend an...Iron?” she asked.

He smirked. “What? Don’t like my friends much?” Jac might look threatening, but he had all the aggression of a baby rabbit. Mansi was practically Levi’s younger sister. And Chez... Well, Chez and Levi weren’t on the best of terms as of late, but when Chez wanted to, he could be tolerable. Sometimes, when the stars aligned, even pleasant.

“No, my friend’s not an Iron,” he said. But Levi got the feeling Enne would be missing Olde Town’s charm within the hour.

“Good,” she huffed.

He opened the door for her. “After you, missy.”

“But what about the whiteboots?” she asked. “They could still be searching for me.”

“You think I’d go someplace with whiteboots? Please, I know better than that. You should learn to trust me.” His smile was filthy with insincerity.

“I’ll work with you because I have to, but I’m not going to trust you until I find Lourdes.”

She lifted her head and marched outside.

“One thousand volts,” Levi grumbled to himself. If he could tolerate her for a single day, then he would wake one thousand volts richer tomorrow.

Besides, Enne Salta wouldn’t last more than a night in the City of Sin.

LEVI

Levi and Enne emerged from the edge of Olde Town, squinting into the light. Not the sunlight—the New Reynes sky was overcast, the smog leaving foul smudges against the clouds. No, they were squinting at the flashing lights of Tropps Street, the center of the Casino District, and—as far as anyone on the North Side was concerned—the center of the city. Everything shone on Tropps Street: the glint of costume jewelry, the golden teeth of the bouncers’ smiles, the waxy sheen of faux leather and, of course, the neon reflections in the puddles of rainwater, piss and emptied liquor cups along the sidewalks.

There was nothing like the Casino District. From the moment Levi had arrived in New Reynes, he’d made it his home. Then he’d made it his territory. One day, he would make it his kingdom.

To the right, a man played an accordion along the curb. He sang about the woes of unrequited love, but it wasn’t clear if he was referring to a sweetheart or the bottle of absinthe at his feet. Enne cringed each time the singer cursed.

“You seem nervous,” Levi said.

She hugged her arms to her chest and darted an anxious glance over her shoulder. “This street is so crowded, but it’s not even noon. Don’t these people work?”

He snorted. “Crowded? You should see this street at night.”

Half a block ahead, a man in a trench coat stared at them from beneath a dull and flickering yellow sign. Rusted chains dangled from it like metal streamers. The man’s face was sallow and sunken, and he reached a shaking hand forward like a prisoner trapped behind bars, begging for food or volts.

Enne stiffened and knocked into Levi’s shoulder, piquing his annoyance. “Why is he watching us?” Enne whispered.

“He’s a street slave. Don’t worry—he can’t follow us.”

“What does that mean? What’s stopping him?” She ducked to his other side so that Levi was between her and the man.

“He’s trapped on that street,” Levi explained. “The families there have a talent that binds people in debt to them within a certain area. That street is like a jail cell.”

She shivered. “What are they in debt for?”

“Drugs. Mostly Rapture, Mistress and Lullaby—all from Torren and Augustine suppliers. Try to avoid Chain Street.”

She nodded fearfully and fiddled with something in her pocket. If Levi didn’t know better, he’d guess she was an antsy runner carrying an expensive package. The farther west they walked down Tropps Street, the closer they came to Scarhand territory. Even if it wasn’t peak hours, there were probably still a few gangsters roaming the alleys, hunting for orb pouches or—for the particularly skilled—grazing trace volts off unlucky passersby’s skin. Enne was marking herself as a target.

Then, to Levi’s ever-increasing aggravation, Enne removed her coin from her pocket and began fiddling with it as she walked. He glanced at the cameo of the queen on the front. If it was from before the Revolution, it was probably worth more than sentimental value. All the more reason to avoid wandering eyes.

“Put the coin back,” he snapped. “That looks like gold from far away.” This missy was bound to be more trouble than she was worth. He didn’t have the time or patience to teach her the rules of New Reynes.

Enne bit her lip and slipped it back into her pocket. At least she listened to what he said.

“What’s the coin from, anyway?” he asked.

“It’s an old token. Lourdes gave it to me.”

She’s alone and agitated, Levi reminded himself. Of course she was acting jumpy. What she needed was a distraction.

“So just how different is New Reynes from Bellamy?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer: completely.

“Well, to start with, it’s a lot dirtier,” she said, her nose crinkled. Levi was beginning to think that was her signature look. “And it smells foul.”

“What? This city?” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “That’s the smell of opportunity. And maybe a little piss.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you might be fonder of it if you were born here.”

“You can’t tell from looking at me, but I wasn’t born a Sinner,” he said. “But yes, I am rather fond of the eau de New Reynes. Maybe you will be, too, after a while.”

She crinkled her nose again. Pretty or not, Levi wondered if he had ever met such a delicate, unpleasant creature. “Where are you from, then?” she asked.

“My family lives in Elta.” The word felt like a shard of ice on his tongue. It was a city a few hours east, on the opposite coast. “Before that, my parents came from Caroko.”

Caroko was once a great capital of one of the seven Mizer kingdoms. During the Revolution, like many orb-maker families who’d been loyal to the Mizers, the Glaisyers were forced to relocate near the ever-suspicious eyes of New Reynes, the capital of the Republic. His mother, who’d been a bit of a world traveler in her youth, hadn’t resented the move. His father, however, had mourned the loss of his home and the king he’d once served. Rather than teach Levi about Caroko, his father had refused to discuss it, as if the city itself was gone, left in an unspeakable state of grief. He considered himself a martyr.

“How long have you lived in New Reynes?” Enne asked, bringing Levi’s focus back to the present.

“Since I was twelve.” Levi had fled the brutality of his home seeking the brutality of somewhere else—a place where, this time, he could fight back.

Frowning, he shook away the unpleasant memories. In less than a minute, she’d managed to steer the conversation entirely away from herself. He didn’t like it when people didn’t talk about themselves. In his experience, that usually meant they had something to hide.

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” he commented.

“You’re a stranger leading me through an unsightly area in an unseemly city. Of course I’m full of questions.” He supposed that was a reasonable response, though he’d hardly call his own territory “unsightly.”

Someone cooed to their right.

“Welcome to Sweetie Street,” he said, not bothering to hide his grin. He could think of no place better to watch Enne squirm.

Swarms of people stumbled down the alley, all flushed and in some degree of hungover stupor. The women dressed in dark skirts with lacy tulles, lipstick every shade of red, faces white or pink with powder. The men wore black-and-white-striped suits, with jewel-studded pipes resting suggestively between their lips. At night, the dancing silhouettes in the windows beckoned customers from all across the city with promises of warm beds and warmer embraces.

“Whatever you do,” he whispered in Enne’s ear, “don’t look anyone in the eyes.”

“Why not?” she asked, jerking her gaze from the window displays to the ground, which was covered with broken glass and sparkly confetti.

“Their talent is seduction.” He swore he saw goose bumps prickle against her skin, and he fought to contain his laughter. “You can’t let them get too close, either. One touch—” he squeezed her shoulder “—and even you would be discarding your skirts and stockings. One kiss, and you’d be overcome by an almost primal sort of lust.”

Enne narrowed her eyes like she’d realized he was mucking with her, but then a woman giggled to their right, and Enne jolted as if she’d heard a gunshot. The woman swayed back and forth, wearing only a ruby corset covered in black lace, her glitter-covered chest spilling out the front. The number ten was written across her cleavage in violet lipstick.

“Oh goodness,” Enne gasped, her gaze darting wildly between the cobblestones and the woman’s breasts. “What does the number mean?”

“Price.”

The whimper that escaped her lips was enough to send Levi into hysterics. He laughed so hard he needed to clutch his abdomen to steady himself.

“Oh, I’m glad you find my decency so amusing,” she snapped. “So is Sweetie Street frequented by everyone in the City of Sin? Is this where you come every night after...whatever illegal things you do?”

“Me? I don’t need to come here,” he said, only somewhat in earnest, but mostly because he couldn’t help himself. His cockiness earned him a disgusted but embarrassed look from Enne. “Think of it this way,” he said. “When you go back to Bellamy, you’ll be able to scandalize all your uppity friends.”

Enne laughed hollowly. “As if I need them thinking any less of me.”

“Less of you? Are you not snobbish enough for their preferences?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a Salta. There are much better, richer families at my finishing school with more impressive dancing talents. No one notices me. Most of the time, they hardly acknowledge I’m there.”

Must’ve hit a nerve, Levi thought. That was the most she’d said about herself yet. It also struck him as rather unbelievable. Her doll-like features, her determined dark eyes—how could anyone not notice her?

“Then why go back there?” he asked.

“Because I have only a year left of school before my debut. It’s why...I’d really love to be able to return before the start of term.” If Levi didn’t find the thought of a “debut” so ridiculous, he might’ve felt sorry for the longing in her voice. She was sacrificing a lot to find Alfero, assuming Alfero could even be found.

“And if you don’t find Lourdes before the summer ends?” Levi asked Enne quietly. “You’re willing to risk that?”

“Of course I am. She’s my mother.”

Levi’s stomach tightened, and—to his own surprise—he was about to say something consoling, but then she bit her lip. Maybe dealing cards made him hyperaware of bluffing, but that was a straight-from-the-book tell. He wondered if she was hiding something after all, but he didn’t press her on it.