“Harry?” I rolled the vial in my hand, letting the liquid catch the light.
“The usual. Ward it.”
Ah. Easy.
Creatures and humans alike had been warding things for millennia. Humans used prayer, blessed objects, holy water, fire—all sorts of things. Creatures used bones, blood, sticks, and stones. It was something beings had always done. You could find wards at the mouths of caves from twenty-five thousand years ago, skulls and bones laid out in particular patterns. Warding wasn’t anything new.
I dropped the vial in his hand. “Deal’s done.”
Faster than the eye could track, he flicked his fingers, and the vial disappeared into a hidden pocket. He gave me a cheeky grin, reached out, and tugged on my braid. “Knew you wouldn’t murder your favorite slipshot. Not today, at least. You’re a thief, like us.”
I knocked his hand away, and he saluted me.
“By the way, I’m glad you’re a mine. You’re stronger now. Stronger for Hell Gate. I saw the Smith there just now—he had murder in his eyes. I heard you killed him and he wants to kill you back.” He narrowed his eyes and said in a conspiratorial voice, “If I were you, what I’d do is steal his heart. Then, when you got it, you can keep it, or you can eat it.”
I stared at him, my skin going cold at the mention of Finn stalking the burned grounds of Hell Gate.
He shrugged again. “That’s my advice. You might not win in a fair fight against the Smith, but who said we fight fair? You could win with a trick. A lie.”
He left, and I stared for a moment at the empty door. Then I slowly opened my box.
I let out a surprised laugh. Harry had taken his own advice. He’d won with a trick. The comb of discernment was gone.
I shook my head. I wouldn’t catch him today. He’d be long gone and hiding out.
I sighed and dumped the box’s contents onto the stone. Then I pulled one of the sconces’ candles from the wall and held the conjured flame to the dried daisies. The candle sparked, and the petals caught fire, releasing a sweet, herby scent. The flame flared and consumed the flowers. Within seconds, the fire had burned out, and all that was left of the daisy chain Finn had woven me was a pile of ash. I took the mica and crumbled it in my hand. It fell to pieces, flaking in bits of glitter. Then I took a deep breath and blew the mica and the ashes away.
The only thing left of Finn was the small pebble. It was pink and round and had been the dot of the “i” on the word “Hi.”
I walked to the bed frame, gripping the pebble so tightly it left an imprint in my palm. Then I opened my hand and dropped the pebble into the void. I waited to hear the soft plink of it hitting ground, but nothing happened.
When I looked up, Rou was standing in the doorway. She frowned at the abyss under the bed.
“Found a spot?”
I nodded. “Looks like it.”
“Well, good enough. I’ll send the slipshots out today to procure us some furniture.” She gave my wrinkled outfit a hard stare. “And some clothing. But in the meantime . . .”
My stomach sank. I knew that look. I wasn’t getting any sleep, and I wasn’t getting any breakfast. “Yes?”
“The Clark girl. The female conjurer who looks like a rabid badger, all skin and bone and claws and teeth? That one’s here for you. She and Jagger took over my kitchen, kicked me out, and when they were finished, he was rubbing his hands, satisfied. I’ll tell you something, Mari. No one sends me out of my kitchen. Even if I only claimed it this morning.” She pursed her lips. “The porridge burned, and if that skin-and-bones Clark thinks I’ll cook her another breakfast, she has something to learn.”
I shook my head. “Last’s here? But I already spent a day with the Clarks this week. And the Bards. I’m free?—”
“A mine is never free. What’s wrong with you? You had your freedom. That’s done. Go on. Jagger’ll want to speak with you before you go.” She clicked her tongue and then patted my arm. “Be sure to have a coffee. That girl looks like she’ll thrust a conjured knife under your fifth rib if she suspects you’re tired.” When I yawned at the word “tired,” she pinched my arm. “Two coffees.”
I smiled. “All right. Two.”
She patted my arm again. Then, looking at the bed frame, she said, “Before you sleep in here, you might want to seal that hole. You never know what’ll come crawling out from under your bed if you don’t.” Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “Or come sneaking into your dreams.”
I left to find Jagger, coffee, and Last.
50
“We are going to have so much fun.” Last spun in a circle and clumsily pirouetted on the sidewalk, laughing as a pigeon flapped away. She wobbled, spun again, and then, pointing at me, she asked, “Won’t we?”
It was half-question, half-demand.
