Page 89 of Heart of Thieves

“What about the cabarets over there?” She points toward Waterside, where lights still flash even though the sky is beginning to streak silver with sunrise.

“I mean, sure, but I doubt any of them have ever done ballet . . .”

We toss ideas back and forth until it finally strikes me. I grasp Lola’s arm, yanking her to a stop. “You know what it could be? The old theater out near Warthington. It’s still in Aethera, but right on the boundary line. My brother and I used to go see plays there all the time.”

“You know . . . ,” Arden says, waving the taxicab to the curb. “That kind of fits. Stories on display, disguises in decay . . . It’s old, right?”

“They haven’t done a show in probably ten years. I bet the costumes are all moth-eaten by now.”

“Velvet curtains,” Jade repeats. “Did they have ballets?”

“Oh, it did all kinds of shows. Ballet, drama, cabaret, comedy . . .” My cheeks flush with excitement. “That has to be it.”

“You’re a genius,” Lola says as we all squish into the back seat of the cab. “I say we head straight there after supper.”

“Rest up, you fools,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. “We’ve got another round to win tonight.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LOLA

I get little sleep, spending most of the afternoon stressing about whether everything is in place for round two. To stop the spiraling, I sneak into town to help Estelle lug the lumenoring equipment to the theater, then make it back to the Brig in time for the others to awaken.

Now it’s ten o’clock in the evening, and I lean my forehead against the cab’s windowpane, rattling my fingers against my knee as the city lights trickle away and the hulking shadows of hills and trees rise around us on our way to the Warthington Theater. Everything should be fine. The voratium and lumenoring devices are all where they’re supposed to be. And there’s been no further sign of my father, Ostena, or Forsyth.

We should be okay.

But my fingers knot in my lap and sweat collects in the back of my dress as our cab trundles over cobblestoned roads.

Enzo places his palm over my hand. “It’s going to be all right,” he soothes as Septavia wraps herself around my wrist. “We’re going to win.”

I force a smile, stroking one of her suckers. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too.”

The cab pulls in front of the theater alongside a few others. It seems we aren’t the only players who thought it would be a good idea to arrive early. Three men lounge on the front steps, while an older woman pries open the bolted-shut front door. Estelle should be somewhere inside planting the voratium clues I gave her this afternoon. Decoys to keep people preoccupied.

We mount the stairs to the slumping theater, nodding at other contestants as we pass. A few of them watch us warily, their gazes lingering on the slip of tentacle visible on my hand. I tug my sleeve to cover Septavia.

“Why don’t we take a look around?” Enzo asks, pulling on the door. It creaks forward, hinges mewling like a feral cat.

“I imagine Nocturne’s clues aren’t going to work until midnight,” I say, eyeing the darkness within.

“If that’s the case, we’ll be able to tell they’re new when they appear,” Arden points out, his words clipped sharp as slaps. I glance at him, but he’s avoiding my gaze.

I frown. The Tentacles have been stiff all evening. Even Jade, who usually laughs with me, shoves past without a second glance.

“Come on,” Enzo says, tugging me forward.

I sigh. “Fine. But if there’s an axe murderer inside waiting to hack off my head, you’re in trouble.”

“If someone hacks off your head, I promise to kick him in the shins.”

“That makes me feel better.” I shuffle past him into the cold, dank interior.

The door slides shut, and darkness swallows us entirely. With the windows boarded over, not even the moonlight penetrates.

“I can’t see a thing,” Jade whispers.