The water in the sink had turned pink. I dug under my nails to get every minuscule piece of dried blood out, but no matter how hard I scrubbed, there was always more. Steam bellowed, fogging up the mirror. At least I couldn’t see my face, my eyes, my soul.

A few raps on the door rattled my scattered thoughts.

My gut heaved. I’d already emptied its contents behind Osiris’s garage, but my stomach didn’t seem to care. It carried on heaving, trying to eject the guilt.

I pulled the plug, twisted on the faucet, swirled water, rinsed off the pink splatters, and splashed my face. My fingers trembled, like the rest of me.

“Ace, open up or I’ll kick it in.”

I couldn’t deal with Shu, not in the state I was in. I should have gone home, but the office was closer, and I hadn’t expected her to notice my arrival. She usually went out of her way to avoid me.

“Whatever personal crisis you’re having,” she shouted through the closed door, “I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna count to three. One, two—”

I wrenched the door open. “What?!”

She recoiled, just a fraction, and then her eyes darkened and her brow cut a jagged scowl. “You fucked up.”

I laughed because it was all I had left. “You’ll have to narrow it down.”

Barging past her, I retreated to my office and dropped into my chair. I’d planned to check my emails, but I couldn’t remember why. I had no problem recalling how blood looked in a crystal glass though. How it clung to the sides, thick and dark, almost black.

Shu wisely loitered in my doorway. If she came any closer, I’d likely hurl my letter opener at her.

“That job,” she said. “The kids who summoned something nasty in midtown? Someone had a hobby telescope pointed at the rooftop.”

A little static shock of magic fizzled through my fingers. The girl’s soul had been light and made of brilliance—innocent but for a few dark smudges. Had I weighed her, I’d have found her worthy. She would have rested for all eternity in the afterlife, where she belonged. But I hadn’t weighed her. She’d never gotten that chance.

“Ace!” Shu barked. “Did you hear me?”

She’d tasted sweet. I could feel the light in her still, feel it dancing at my fingertips, plucking on pleasure. My body buzzed with life, magic, power. It had been so long…so long… I’d held out. I’d resisted.

“You’re wanted for questioning in connection with the murders of those three kids.”

“Three?” I asked. There had been four.

“A fourth—Jason Montgomery—is missing,” she said, as if reading my thoughts.

My mind sharpened, focus narrowing. “Does the PD have my name?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“No, just a description. It’s blown up on the internet: the guy with the coat and sword. They’re talking about you like you’re some kind of vigilante bent on protecting the city from the rising dead.”

They wouldn’t say that if they knew I’d spent the morning washing off the blood of an innocent girl.

“You need to lay low. No more jobs. No more sword. Ditch the coat and wear a hat or something.”

She was worried. Not for me, but for her own hide.

“I’ll find the kid,” I said. “He can tell the cops his pal went nuts and killed them all and then did himself in on the roof. He’s terrified. He’ll tell the cops what I tell him to tell them.”

One of Shu’s dark eyebrows crawled higher. “And the vigilante?”

“Urban legend. It was snowing. Whatever footage that’s circulating, it’ll be virtually indecipherable.”

She considered it, but that scowl of hers wasn’t getting any softer. “Let the cops find the kid.”

I could let it go. It wasn’t like I didn’t already have enough on my mind, but I hated loose ends—like snakes, they tended to come back around and bite me in the ass—and Jason Montgomery was one hell of a loose end. At the very least, I needed to have a chat with him.

“Fine.” Shu sighed, seeing the determination on my face and likely sensing now was not the time to argue. “Don’t get caught. It’s bad enough I have to spend every day working with you. I’d rather not be stuck in a prison cell with your righteous ass for the next fifty years.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Find the kid. I turned my mind to that and forcibly denied that morning’s events, pushing them way back where all the darkness of my past hid.

My cell chimed. I read Cujo’s name and waved Shu away. “Hey, Cujo—”

“Funny thing. There’s a video online of a guy in a long coat with a badass broadsword. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“Sounds like a freak.” I grinned, grateful I could call Cujo a friend—one of few. “What kind of idiot carries a sword around New York?”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. I looked into that bundle of joy of yours. Nineteen years old. She goes by the name Chuck.”

“What kind of name is that?”

Cujo paused. “Do you want me to answer that? Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“I earned my nickname, same as you.”

“I got my name because a crackhead bit me and I lost it. Tell me again how you got the name Ace?”

“Cheating at cards,” I lied. He knew it was a lie too, which was why he kept asking. Ace didn’t always have good connotations. Go back far enough, a few centuries, and it was another word for bad luck, or a curse. “Tell me about Chuck.”

“No parents. She was abandoned at a firehouse as a six-month-old. In and out of foster homes since she was nine. A stint on the streets. She has herself a rap sheet for drug possession and theft, which was how I was able to trace her so fast.”

As he talked, that niggling, little voice of truth chipped away at my denials. Cujo was right, the apple never fell far, and Chuck’s background sounded all too familiar. “Cut to the chase, Cujo.”

“Difficult to know if she’s showing any unusual talents, but her name appears in the files of a few unresolved homicide cases. The victims were street douches. No witnesses. No charges. She was brought in but clammed up every time. Can’t say homicide would have wasted much manpower there, but your girl could have been caught up in something that went sideways, and if she does have talents, that might be how some nasty folks got themselves dead. From what I hear, little godlings often make mistakes that end with people dying.”

Ancient gods made mistakes too. I squeezed my eyes closed and pinched the bridge of my nose. A lot of things were my fault, but not this, not her. The girl’s upbringing was all on Bast. I hadn’t known about her. I didn’t get the chance to help.

“Ace?”

“Uh-huh, still here.”

“Short of a DNA test, I can’t tell you much more.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“There’s a shelter in Queens. I’ll email you the address. The shelter offers support for pregnant women in crisis.”

“Okay, thanks, Cujo. Hey, the missing kid, Jason Montgomery. Let me know if you get any leads.”

“Funny,” he mock-whispered. “The sword guy, they say he can walk through Hell unburned.”

I laughed. “It’s not the fire that burns, my friend. It’s the gods you gotta watch out for. Thanks for this, and I owe you one.”

“I’m keeping tabs. You owe me at least fifty. But sure, why not? Gotta get my kicks somewhere. Stay safe, Ace.”