Free Rooks and Romanticide by J.I. Radke Page A

my whims and all. And there you have it. That’s my pathetic deposition, my reasoning as to why I should like to work for you. I just want to.”
    When he spoke, it was careful and calm. Maybe too collected, too composed—but there was something in the shadows of the young man’s face, a muted kind of honesty, the look of someone who had lived a life full of suppressed opinions and subdued thoughts and was finally speaking his mind, as uncomfortable as it was. Cain felt himself giving way to that subtle pinch to Levi’s brow, and whether he believed Levi more out of pity or sympathy or something more shameless, it didn’t matter.
    That wasn’t to say he could trust him completely yet. Oh no, not at all. In a world such as theirs, nobody was innocent. He shrugged, face twisting in a tart frown. “Well, Levi,” Cain countered, “as endearing as you are, I already have a capable team working under me, and plenty of private hit men, and I’m afraid I’m not in need of anyone new.”
    The words hung in the air like poison. It seemed fate had already decided things for itself.
    Cain sighed.
    â€œBut perhaps I could use someone with different experiences, or if I need counsel from someone of your, ah… status. If you understand what I mean,” he added hastily. “Maybe you could be a street runner. If you’re as unsided as you claim to be, your anonymity could be highly beneficial. You could dance the border between Ruslaniv and Dietrich. I could send you into places that are too risky for even my armed agents—Ruslaniv territory, the seediest pits of the city. You’ll be my spy, my double-hander. My connection to the dregs of society that just skitter away into hiding when we scout the streets. Levi, how does that sound to you? Would you be willing to be that, my ace in the sleeve?”
    The echo of his offering was cold. The silence that followed was thick and daunting. It seemed Cain could hear the crackling of all the wicks on all the candles, the world was so quiet in the wake of his admittedly brilliant plan. Well, it was brilliant to him, at least. Was Levi offended? Was he unconvinced?
    â€œI’ll pay you, of course,” Cain offered, and he wasn’t sure why he was so desperate, “but don’t expect a sum of money as large as you might have gotten when contracted by certain others—well, never mind, I suppose we can discuss it.”
    Levi leaned back on his arms and kicked a foot up to rest his heel atop the pew in front of him—and then he laughed. It was a dry, rustling chuckle under the breath, but it was laughter, and Cain was a little perplexed by the way Levi shifted from embittered to cocky again, all in the blink of an eye. Clearly he was the type of man who did what he wanted, how he wanted, and when he wanted. It was almost sly, like a fox. Cain shifted, tapping an impatient finger on the butt of his revolver. Levi didn’t exactly look like a whimsical killer either, in his sable-collared jacket, loose shirt and leather weapons belt. God, that blond hair, that dimpled smirk, and the silvery sound of belt buckles and buttons hidden along his body. His eyes sparked with the worst kind of intelligence, and Cain wanted to kiss him again already. Ah, this was bad. He couldn’t mix business and pleasure, but damn it, he really wanted the pleasure.
    â€œOh, I don’t need money,” Levi insisted, almost cavalierly. His kind smile seemed patronizing in the throb of candlelight. “Rather… I won’t accept it for an odd job such as this.”
    â€œAre those your whims talking?” Cain cut across the aisle, hatefully. Really he was just angry at himself, because he couldn’t not like this Levi fellow. He despised it, and yet he was relieved by it, and he kept seeing the way Levi had moved through the crowd the night before, black mask and gold brocade waistcoat.
    â€œMaybe.” Levi