Velvet Mirage's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The lounge had emptied by two. Velvet locked the stair door and drew the velvet across the arch. She sat at the low brass table with the auditor's napkin flat under her palm and the black notebook open beside it. Tonight was not for stealing. Tonight was for choosing which debts became allies and which stayed debts. Zira came in from the balcony first, wet footprints on the wood. She sat across from Velvet without a word and set her hands flat on the table. The storm-siren always chose the seat facing the door. "Ask," she said. Velvet turned the notebook so Zira could see one line. A tally mark, a wave, a date. "You already offered. I want to know what part." Zira read it. "The water side. The auditor meets his buyer near the canal. Give me that piece and nothing else." Velvet drew a small circle beside the wave. One ally, sealed. Zira would move the body and never know the room. Omaha came up next, still in stage glitter, tail curled around the chair leg. She leaned over the napkin and read the price without touching it. "Forty-five thousand for a lost file," she said. "Sweetheart, he charges rent on his own spine." Velvet tapped a symbol in the ledger. A door, a paw print, a time. "I need you inside the private dining room. Serving. Nothing else." Omaha's ears flicked. "Serving is my second language. What's my first?" "Leaving before anyone remembers your face." Omaha grinned. "Cats remember. People don't." Velvet marked her in. Inferno Diva arrived last because she always did. She dropped into the booth like heat settling into a room. Her wings folded small against her back. She lifted the napkin with two fingers and read it. "You want me to burn him." "I want you to want him," Velvet said. "Publicly. Loud enough that the council sees him as yours before he's ours." Inferno's yellow eyes narrowed, then warmed. "A stage part. I don't burn bridges, Velvet. I make altars from them." "Then build one." Velvet drew a flame beside a crown in the ledger. Sealed. She closed the book. Three names in, seven left off. Marina stayed a debt, not an ally. Jolt stayed a debt. Skyline, Neon, Starlight, Gearspark, Storm Grit — all still owed, none told. If the job cracked, the blame would spread across every debt she hadn't spent. The council would chase one. The underground would chase another. None would chase her. Velvet folded the napkin into a smaller square and slid it inside the notebook's back cover. Three allies at the table. Seven scapegoats in the wind. She poured three glasses and pushed them across the brass. "We meet again in four nights," she said. "Bring only what I asked for." No one asked what the others were bringing. That was the whole point.