At last, I swing into the saddle, the leather creaking like a warning. I’ve dawdled long enough. The city waits, and whatever work is there, waits for me.
The ride is almost merciful. A cool-warm breeze drifts across the fields, clouds floating like lazy sheep, the sun spilling gold between them. Ada’s gait is a metronome, each hoof-fall sanding the splinters from my nerves. I leave her at the city stables with the stableboy, and he catches my sleeve before I turn.
“Two more shoes by week’s end, Miss?”
I nod, clasping his calloused hand to shake. As I step away, his gaze snags on the mask. I turn and think nothing of it as I head towards Bernie’s tower.
He’s hunched over ledgers, a cup of something dark and sharp in his fist—it’s too early for that, even for him. The room smells of ink and worry.
I linger in the doorway. “You alright, Bernie?”
He startles, then softens. “Mary. Door, please.”
I shut it, then settle in the chair opposite him. “What’s the word, boss?”
“No blades today.” His eyes flick to my empty hands, to the space between us, measuring the distance like I’m a loaded crossbow. “Sorry, girl.”
I lean back, palms open on my knees. “Whoa, easy, I’m not lunging at you for this.”
Regret shadows his face. He drinks, swallowing deeply. “Witch-hunts have the whole city knotted. Nothing moves unless it’s rape or murder. And the murder they can’t pin…”He meets my gaze, voice dropping. “Whoever carved that poor bastard did things that’d turn your stomach inside out.”
The words strike like a thrown knife and my pulse drums in my ears, but I keep my face still. He can’t know. He can’t.
I need to leave. I stand. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Might be something. Might not be blood.” A tired shrug. “See you.”
Outside, the tower green is too bright. I drop onto a bench, drag air into lungs that feel lined with frost as my hands tremble and my heart batters my ribs. The morning’s clumsiness, Ada’s skittishness, Benny’s unearned kindness—omens, all of them. The hunt is on, and the rope is already brushing my neck.
I have to vanish before it kisses skin.
I fetch Ada from the stables, her ears pricking at the sight of me and we ride the short distance to De-Vil’s Delights. The brothel’s painted sign peels like old skin, raining down debris as I tie her out back, give her neck a grateful rub, and step inside.
The place is a hollowed-out shell. No laughter, no perfume thick enough to choke on, just dust motes drifting through the stale air. Sparrow’s bar stands abandoned. A girl I barely know—Alli, she tells me—is moving bottles with the quiet efficiency of a funeral.
“Hey, Evie. Sparrow left yesterday. Half the girls are gone. Twins are still here, Sirena too—she asked us to send you up if you came. De’s in her office, I think. We’re shutting soon, so say your goodbyes.”
Straight to the point attitude, I like that. I offer my hand. Alli hesitates, glances at the grime on her fingers, then sets the rag aside and grips mine firmly. I nod at her and move on.
Down the hall, the Twins’ door is ajar, and I knock once. Their voices braid together: “Come in!”
They squeal my name in perfect unison, leaping from their beds, and pulling me into a storm of silk and warmth. White nightgowns cling like moonlight; the scent of jasmine and skin wraps around me and a tumbler of my favourite whiskey appears in my hand before I can blink.
“We leave tomorrow,” Scarlet says, nodding toward Raven. “Going to go back to my family’s estates in Yorkshire.”
I laugh, startled. “Estates? You’re rich?”
She shrugs, unashamed. “Rich as sin. I came for the thrill—sex on someone else’s coin, a life that glittered. Then I found her.” Her gaze slides to Raven, soft as candlewax. “Couldn’t leave her behind. Didn’t think I’d leave any of you. Until now.”
Raven takes over, her voice trembling. “She’s the other half of my whole.”
The words hit me like a thrown stone. I feel the bruise bloom. They’re crying quietly, tears catching in lashes like dew. I stand. They stand. Then comes the hug—fierce, fragrant, a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.
“Be safe, Evie,” Scarlet murmurs into my collarbone. “You’ll always be our favourite.”
“Don’t go getting dead,” Raven adds, half-laughing, half-sobbing.
I nod, throat thick. “Love you both.” The words feel clumsy in my mouth, but true enough. They echo it back in perfect harmony as I slip free, heading upstairs.
