Amanda Foody - King Of Fools

Harrison Augustine hears a lot of things.

He was referring to Chez Phillips, Levi’s previous third in the Irons. A few days ago, Chez had turned the Irons against Levi and challenged him for lordship—nearly killing him. In the end, Levi had overpowered him, but he’d gone further than he’d meant to. Chez would bear those scars for life, and he’d never be back.

If Harrison knew about Chez, then he knew Levi’s friends were few. Yet still he saw potential in him.

It made Levi want to prove him right.

Harrison rolled down the window to let out the smoke building in the back seat. The noise of sirens filled the car, but Levi stayed focused on Harrison’s words. “Visit the Catacombs. Ask for Narinder Basra. He’s on the Street of the Holy Tombs in Olde Town, and he’s well connected. He’ll find you a replacement for your third. Maybe even a new reputation.”

Hesitance pinched the back of Levi’s mind. This was too simple. If Harrison was offering him the world, then what would Levi need to sacrifice in return?

“You’ve thought of everything. This would solve all my problems,” Levi conceded. “So what would you have me do for you?”

“I’m nervous that any violence between the North and South Sides will only fuel the monarchist cause. They believe the First Party has taken advantage of the system to keep themselves in power, to keep the North Side weak. I’m not sure either of us can stop the conflict from escalating, but what I need is information. You were friends with Eight Fingers—become friends with the other lords. I need to know about everyone who matters in the North Side. I want to know the plans before they happen.”

Though it was true Levi had been friends with Reymond—Eight Fingers, the previous lord of the Scarhands—he had no reason to be friends with the other lords. Despite what The Crimes & The Times reported, Levi barely was a lord anymore. And if he was going to cultivate any relationship or influence with them, at the very least he needed to have the Irons back. The Irons might have betrayed him, but they were the slickest, most cunning tricksters in the city, and Levi had spent years scouting his gangsters and building their clientele. He wouldn’t turn his back on them yet. But regaining their trust would mean taking deadly risks, rising up when he should be lying low. Even with the protection Harrison offered, it was a dangerous gamble.

It was lucky for Harrison that what Levi wanted, more than anything, was to have the Irons back.

Lucky for Harrison that Levi was a gambling man.

“That could be arranged,” Levi said. Even as he tried to keep his voice steady and professional, his own excitement betrayed him. This was truly an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Harrison smiled. “I like your confidence.”

“It won’t be easy,” Levi admitted. “But it can be done.”

“There’s one job in particular, though, that my entire plan absolutely hinges upon. What Sedric Torren was providing that I cannot,” Harrison continued, and Levi leaned closer. “The gangs might have monopolies on certain crimes, but the Augustine and Torren Families control almost the entirety of the North Side. If they don’t directly employ someone, they own their building. They provided them a loan. They did them a favor. With the monarchist support growing, the votes that Sedric would have provided for the First Party are pivotal to the whole election. Without them, as things stand now, I would lose by a landslide.”

Levi’s eyes widened. He always thought the monarchists were a radical minority. He had no idea they wielded that much power. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to Vianca’s political lectures.

“It seems Chancellor Fenice should’ve just tapped Sedric’s Family successor, then, rather than you,” Levi said.

“That’s true, but the Torren Family is likely to be without a don for a long time—maybe months. Neither Charles nor Delia—Sedric’s cousins, brother and sister and equally bloodthirsty—will relinquish their claim without a fight. I could help one of them win, but I can’t ensure it. So I need to know who to sponsor. I need the next don of the Family to be in my debt, otherwise my election and your freedom are off the table.”

“You’re asking me to call the winner,” Levi said slowly. “I don’t have the means to do that. I still owe the Torren Family ten thousand volts that I have no intention or ability to repay. I can’t give you more than fifty-fifty odds.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be you . You’ll send someone inside the Torren empire, someone you trust.”

Levi could count the number of people he trusted on two fingers: Enne and Jac. Vianca was certainly already concocting her own plans for Enne as Séance.

Which left Jac.

Levi’s stomach churned. There was no way he could send his best friend, barely two years clean, into the very narcotics empire that had nearly destroyed him.

Levi couldn’t manage even a smile of false confidence. “Surely you have someone you trust?”

“I don’t want this traced back to me,” Harrison answered. “The monarchists—somewhat correctly—believe the First Party is corrupt. The other advantage I offer as a candidate is my blank slate. I might be able to bribe some whiteboots for what appear to be business ventures, but I can’t be caught rigging power struggles in crime Families or making deals with the person who killed the Chancellor, can I?” His smile looked uncomfortably wide.

Levi took a deep breath and swallowed his nausea. He knew what Jac would say, of course. That Harrison was too great of an opportunity to lose. That Levi always had too little faith in him. That Jac was ready for it.

Levi wasn’t so sure.

“These are my terms,” Harrison told him. “Will you accept?”

“Can I think on it?” Even if this opportunity meant everything and then some to Levi, it meant asking a lot of Jac—Levi needed to speak to him first.

“There’s no time for that. I have campaign strategy meetings in a few hours. I need your decision now.”

The car was coming to a stop. Harrison flicked what remained of his cigar out the window.

What Harrison was offering Levi was invaluable. A chance to escape Vianca. A level of protection while Levi built his empire. An opportunity to ally with power instead of merely playing with it.

Harrison was offering Levi his destiny.

But it meant throwing Jac into an assignment that could set him back years—or worse. It meant lying to Vianca for however long it took Harrison to carry out his plans. Those were dangerous risks. Levi preferred gambling with volts—not his best friend’s life, not his own.

Harrison peeked out the crack in the window. “You don’t have much time. The whiteboots are all over Olde Town.” His lips curled into a smile. “But give me the word and a few hours. They’ll be gone before this evening.”

Everything Levi had ever dreamed of versus throwing Jac into a dangerous assignment. He knew exactly what he wanted, of course: to play the game. He wanted it so badly he ached.

A relapse would be Jac’s fault, not Levi’s, but that didn’t mean Levi wouldn’t blame himself if it happened.

He knew he wasn’t being fair to Jac. If his friend were here, he’d be furious that Levi thought so little of him. Jac would tell him to worry about making them rich, and Jac would worry about himself.

Jac would tell him to take the offer.

At least he hoped that was the case, and not just his own selfishness swaying him.

“I accept,” Levi said, nearly choking on the words.

Harrison opened the door for him and handed him a business card. The only thing written on it was a phone number. “Contact me when you have something.”