Page 55 of Queen of Volts

“I told you—I’m making you guess. It’s more fun that way.” When Lola frowned, Arabella added, “It’s more funfor me. It’s been eighteen years since he tricked me—I like to celebrate my victories.”

“So how old are you, then?” Arabella didn’t look older than twenty. “If you’re not ‘ancient.’”

“This isn’t about me.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “Fine. I know that Enne’s mother was Gabrielle Dondelair, who was executed for giving birth to a Mizer, among other crimes. I know she played for Enne’s life during the Shadow Game, that she won and tried to flee—but only Enne escaped.”

Arabella nodded. “I’m surprised you managed to dig that up, even as a blood gazer. Here’s what you don’t know. Gabrielle’s brother wasn’t the good sort—he fell into some trouble and dragged her down with him.”

“Trouble?” Lola asked.

“Kidnapping. Enne’s father—being the last surviving Mizer—was very paranoid. He wanted a Protector, someone with a talent for keeping his secrets better hidden. And so he hired Gabrielle’s brother to kidnap the only Protector who could offer him even more—Malcolm Semper’s daughter. He knew Semper couldn’t make a move against him once Clarissa had sworn her protection to him—otherwise she’d be forced to defend him. Clarissa was Lourdes’s real name. Semper’s daughter. But you already knew that.”

Lola had, but she hadn’t read anything about a kidnapping in Jonas’s file about Lourdes. Semper must have kept the entire affair a secret.

“But how did he convince Lourdes to swear her protection to him?” Lola asked.

“Gunpoint.”

Lola shivered. Maybe therewassuch a thing as bad blood—she’d sworn Enne her street oath nearly the same way.

“So that’s how Gabrielle met Enne’s father,” Lola said. Not very romantic. “How did Lourdes end up with Enne, then?”

Arabella shrugged. “I don’t think she ever hated Gabrielle, the way she hatedhim. But she must not have really hated him, to become a monarchist herself. For her own father to kill her in the game he devised to use againstme...”

Every moment Lola forgot who she was speaking with, the gravity of her situation returned to her. Everything that had gone wrong in Lola’s life had happened because she’d surrounded herself with players, but Arabella was the most dangerous player of all, and—against all sense—Lola kept forgetting that.

They reached the grounds of Madame Fausting’s, and nerves knotted in Lola’s stomach.

“From what you told me about this place, I probably shouldn’t go in,” Arabella said.

“Because you’ll get recognized?”

“Because I’m quite allergic to cats.”

Lola laughed, some of the tension rolling off her shoulders. “Fine, but one more question. I want something to distract me...”from facing all my friends. “What did her father look like?”

“I wouldn’t know. I never saw his face.”

Lola frowned and pondered that as she made her way to the entrance. How could Arabella have made a bargain with him without seeing him?

She knocked on the door, and Grace answered. It was still early—the Spirits often slept in late—and so Grace squinted into the morning light as if it offended her. Then she took in the image of Lola.

She punched Lola in the arm. “I was worried about you after you hung up! I thought you’d gone to Tock’s, but she’s here—she came looking for you—”

“Is Enne awake?” Lola asked.

“She left already with Levi.”

Lola stepped inside the empty foyer, relief washing over her like a cold drink that she’d get to avoid Enne. “I’m just here for my brother.”

Grace locked eyes with her, and she had the sort of predatory stare—smudged eyeliner and cold gaze—that made Lola want to reach for her scalpel, even though Grace could outmatch her without a weapon of her own.

“I don’t think she would have done it,” Grace said darkly. “Enne was just making a show. She wouldn’t have killed your brother.”

“If you think that, then maybe I know Enne better than you,” Lola answered. Grace hadn’t been enlisted in this operation under duress—she’d been bribed with frilly South Side party invitations.

Grace opened her mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it. At least with words, Lola was the one with the upper hand.