The following day began with tea.

I stared at my small teapot, focusing on counting the seconds. It helped distract me from the pounding also on the inside of my head.

I’d come here after waiting outside my lab for half an hour. Making sure that the intruder didn’t just have a key to all my locks, or the tools to pick it, or even just a weapon to work his way through eventually had taken out a chunk of my night.

They deserved their freedom if they’d been patient enough to either work at it for longer or wait that long before starting.

That had been my sleepy reasoning as I’d tiredly trodded my way home. Woken-up Falara was currently not very happy with sleepy Falara’s decision-making.

Oh, enough time had passed! I poured the teapot’s water out, put the leaves in, and poured in more hot water.

There were a few more minutes of waiting. I grabbed the milk while I waited, pouring some into my cup. I kept my movements slow and deliberate after my first attempt to get up had ended with my face smacking into the floor.

My body and mind were tired, and I needed something, anything, to prepare me for today. A quick rinse and scrub before I’d lain down to bed to erase the tannery stench had been my only path to sleep. I needed something else to serve for the morning. Tea would be my salvation. Oh, it should be done boiling.

I poured it into the cup, as close to the rim as I risked it. I needed to be alert today. So much would have to be done because I couldn’t afford to have anything occur during tomorrow afternoon.

Sitting down on an uneven chair, I ignored its tottering as its shortened fourth leg made it shift underneath me. I focused instead on the cup.

A darker tea, since I couldn’t afford any better, but any tea would be a salve in a tired body and mind. Grabbing the cup in both hands, I brought it to my lips and took a sip.

Bliss.

Someone hammered on my door, the noise like a gunshot right next to my ear.

I dropped the cup reflexively and then watched it shatter on my floor.

“Shit,” I muttered tiredly, then immediately rebuked myself.

Katheryn Falara did not use vulgar terms like that. I’d broken character twice now, both in and out of my head. One of these days, I’d mess up with someone around, and they would know something was wrong.

Even small cracks in the mask could become greater if I let it. Become Katheryn Falara. I'd put too much effort into wanting to be here to let those cracks form now.

The pounding continued, and it felt like the knocking was hitting me right in the side of the head. Who had just broken my cup? It wasn’t a particularly expensive cup but it was the principle of thing…the hammering on the door happened again, each blow mirroring the pounding in my head.

“Just a moment, please!” I said, trying to gather fragments of the cup off the floor. Be calm, be polite, be ruthless in negotiations but not in attitude. Be Katheryn Falara.

I was thankful I’d already dressed, a long ankle-length skirt and blouse covered in a coat. Even with my windows shut, the cold still seeped in.

The hammering happened, matched by my flinching every time. I hurriedly put what fragments I’d collected on my table.

Approaching the door, I could hear arguing between two familiar voices.

“-listen to me you vagrant, I was here first, and besides my matter is more pressing-”

“-fuck off you brightly colored peacock, I got my own thing I need to talk to the miss about, and you ain’t going to stop me-”

My headache already intensified as I grabbed my door handle. I opened it, revealing two figures behind.

The first was well-dressed by the standards of the quarter, green skin flushed red, monocle on the verge of falling off his face. He argued with the second, whose clothes could best be described as tatters stretched over indigo skin, a ratty beard descending from his chin.

Kalaysp and Zarrow were two people I knew but hadn’t expected and didn’t particularly want to see.

I knew Kalaysp professionally. We both plied the same trade, the shady alchemist with everything you could want in a bottle. Just ignore anything off about us and how we source our ingredients, and we won’t ask anything about what you use our creations for. It was a rather profitable business in a city this large and lacking in the morals priests said we needed to keep to. Not that they were any better at it.

They tended to pay some of the highest prices away from their pulpits.

Kalaysp being here was abnormal. We rubbed elbows professionally, of course, but never privately. I’d never guessed he knew where I lived.

Zarrow was a vagrant from the streets, and I knew exactly why he was here.

“Mr. Kalaysp, Mr. Zarrow. I’d say it’s a good morning, but so far for me it has not. What has brought both of you to my doorstep at such an early hour?”

It couldn’t be more than five in the morning—six at the earliest. The rays of whichever sun had risen were barely visible.

Kalaysp spoke first. “Miss Falara, it’s a pleasure to see you, but first might I ask if we can remove this vagrant as he has repeatedly offered me offense-”

“Take your fancy words and screw yourself with them, you little shit. I’ve got just as much right to see her as you do, and I ain’t no vagrant either.”

Their voices echoed inside my head, their volume like screws to my ears. I winced and tried to cut off their arguing.

“Gentlemen, please don’t yell. My ears can only take so much.”

“I wasn’t yelling. Was I yelling, vagrant?” Kalaysp asked.

“Fuck off. Also, no he was not.”

Oh gods I’d probably picked up some disease off the Pure-bloods, or that jail cell, or whoever that intruder stuck in the closet was. No matter.

“Gentlemen, I’m dealing with a few things, and I had a rather busy day yesterday, but I will take some time out of it to deal with whatever has brought you here. As long as you speak softly. Now, who was here first, and what do both of you want?”

“A business proposition. It should take only a few minutes of your time,” Kalaysp said.

Zarrow coughed, a wet hacking one that made Kalaysp put some room between them.

“I need some medicine again, miss. And I’m not waiting for this fancy-horn blowhard to talk with you while I’m here wasting away.”

“You mean you want drugs to sell to someone for three times their normal cost,” Kalaysp sneered.

Unfortunate as it may be, that was decently close to the truth. “Your last dose was not that long ago, Mr. Zarrow, but if you’ll wait just a moment?”

His expression screamed an argument coming, so I kept talking.

“It takes time to prepare. You’d have to wait, so please hold on for a few minutes. Mr. Kalaysp, please come inside?”

My apartment was a tight little affair: two rooms, a bathroom, and a closet. This first room was my kitchen, table, reading nook, and everything the bedroom could not serve. There was enough room for two people to sit down comfortably, which was the way I preferred it.

If things ever got too dangerous, I would just kick down the table, blocking off access to half the room for long enough for me to escape out the window without needing to jump through it. Cheap glass was not the safest surface to leap through.

The furniture might be second-hand and falling apart, the chimney might get clogged at times, and the walls might be made of chipped wood and be a bit too thin for winter, but it was enough for me. I did not want to receive guests, so I usually did my dealings at Hells' Own.

“Well, this is my home. A little modest but comfortable enough.”

Kalasyp didn’t reply. He had instead spotted my teapot, I realized to mounting horror.

“Oh, you brewed some tea?”

“I…yes.” Please don’t ask for a cup

“Do you mind if I have a cup? I had a long day yesterday.”

He’d had a long day? Had he been in the Coffin for hours on end? Had he fought a pack of human racist gang members? Been interrogated by the never to be sufficiently damned Voltar? Fought an intruder in his own lab? Been extorted by that leech Carnly? Has his morning tea been interrupted and his cup shattered by someone pounding incessantly on his door?

Kalasyp seemed focused on a particular part of my face. Was my eye twitching? My eye was probably twitching.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Of course, you can have a cup. Give me one second, and let me get some new cups and clean up my other one. Please sit down.”

“Should we see if that vagrant outside wants some?”

You know, indulging in my diabolism-induced urges to consume sentient flesh was beginning to sound somewhat rational at this moment.

“Please don’t insult Mr. Zarrow. He’s not a vagrant.” He probably has some building he’s currently squatting in. “Mr. Zarrow, do you want a cup of tea?”

From my still-open door, Zarrow poked his head in. “Tea? Can’t stand the stuff. Got some coffee?”

I beamed at the joy of keeping at least one cup of the precious drink. “None brewed at this time. I can have some ready by the time I’m done with Mr. Kalaysp?”

“That sounds alright. I can wait.” Zarrow said.

“You could try some. It’s a rather excellent drink with the right brand. I assume Falara is using a good brand. You are, aren’t you?” Kalaysp said.

“We should respect Mr. Zarrow’s wishes,” I said, maintaining a polite tone. “You wanted to discuss something, Mr. Kalasyp?”

“There’s no reason he can’t try both drinks.”

There is a reason, my teapot only has three servings, and you two already ruined one!

“Not interested,” Zarrow said. “Tried the stuff a few times. Disagrees with me. Coffee’s got more kick to it anyway.”

Huzzah! I poured both cups, then restarted the process they so rudely interrupted.

“Hrrm. Black tea. Flavors are a bit strong. Admiral Givens I think? Not the worst, I suppose,” Kalaysp said.

I ignored him, focused on my cup as the pounding in my head lessened to a low, distant ache.

Perhaps an exaggeration, but by the time I finished my cup, the world was infinitely more bearable than it had been a few moments ago.

“Is the business proposition you wanted to discuss something you want to be kept private?” I asked.

“Yes, but don’t bother with the door. I imagine he’ll just listen in through it.”

Zarrow gave Kalasyp a pointed look, then reached in and pulled my door closed.

These two must have had their paths crossed at some point before. Kalasyp knew Zarrow too well. Either that or Kalasyp held prejudices against the lower class I had never encountered before.

That was probably not the case. He would despise ninety percent of the district if he hated the poor.

I grabbed a three-tiered drip pot from my cupboard. Battered, it still functioned well enough. I put in a few cups of beans, poured water in the bottom, and hung it above the fire.

Kalasyp seemed reluctant to speak, the words seemingly stuck in his throat till he forced them out. “I have a client, several actually, whom I want you to care for for a few days. You’ll be paid fairly for the work.”

I frowned. This was new. “Perhaps employ Meloment to do it? I’m rather busy with clients at this time.”

Kalsyp shook his head. “Meloment is also busy. Terminally so. He apparently tried to cheat some people in the docks who didn’t appreciate it. Drasseck is underground, Litchen is out of town. Everyone else is also busy.”

I winced. That was unfortunate. I’d have to send my condolences to the widow. “Gallows, perhaps? He’s never busy.”

His face scrunched up like I’d suggested chopping his limb off. “He’s never busy because his quality is terrible, and his mixtures are trash. I try to get Gallows to cover these clients, they’ll leave. These are good clients, Falara. They actually pay in money and not favors.”

“If they’re good clients, you’d do more to keep them. Instead, you’re trying to pass them off on to me while pursuing where you think the real money is.”

He was pursuing the same strategy as me, except in a worse fashion. I’d be slowly trading off existing clients for new ones and making sure all my dues were paid and no ill feeling left behind. He meanwhile was trying to switch the entire lot.

All in all, it sounded like a quick scheme to get money with a lot of risk. Kalasyp and Zarrow had more in common than either would appreciate me saying.

Kalasyp frowned. “I could let you in on this opportunity if it helps?”

“It doesn’t. But I’ll help you out anyway. In return for the pay and the story of what you’re doing once you’ve finished. And within reason. What are the names and the orders?”

He had a list ready, handing it over before I’d finished asking. “I can’t say anything about the offer. I was told that if I did, I would lose the opportunity, along with the usual threats to my well-being that are part and parcel of these deals. I’m allowed to bring new people in for them to consider, but that is all.”

“Of course,” I said.

I was more focused on the list. Half of these names were outside the district, probably people who wanted alchemy in secret, much like Lord Montague. I recognized two of these names, though. I put the list down and flipped over the drip pot.

“You have two associates of Versalicci on this list?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

It wouldn’t usually be one for Katheryn Falara. It would always be one with Malvia Davies. But I’d have an excuse for why Katheryn Falara would want to avoid them.

“I have a particular reason for wanting to avoid these people in public. It is workable but requires a bit of extra effort on my part.”

“Are you entangled with the Black Flame gangs? I wouldn’t have guessed such a thing.”

Oh, I was entangled. More than even some of Versalicci’s closest lieutenants may have guessed.

“I was involved in an incident yesterday involving a member of the gang, some human gang members, the Watch, and others. The member of the gang died, although not by me, and I tried to keep him alive, but there might be misunderstandings.”

“It would only be the one time. I’ll pay extra for both of them,” Kalaysp said.

“How much would the pay be?” I asked. His main benefit would be keeping steady customers, so he could afford to be generous.

“Half of what they pay me, three-quarters for the Black Flame clients.”

“Make it the full payment for the Black Flame clients and you have a deal. I am putting myself at greater risk there, and you don’t want to miss a delivery to Black Flame.”

He looked like he’d eaten a prune, but he nodded. “A deal then. I’ll handle the payments when I return.”

That sounded like a good reason to ask each client how much they usually paid for his services when I met them. Having him be the source for how much seemed the perfect way to be cheated.

“I do need these all completed by tomorrow.”

Ah, a new issue. “I couldn’t get to all of these till the day after,” I said.

He frowned. “These clients expect punctuality. All of them. Tomorrow is necessary.”

“How about any I don’t get to till the day after tomorrow you only pay me half on then? So, a quarter per client?” I asked.

“Not what I would prefer, but fine.”

We said our goodbyes, and he gave me a spare key to his lab. Soon, Kalaysp departed from my apartment.

With Kalaysp handled, now I could deal with the second problem that had landed on my doorstep.

Zarrow had already come inside, taking Kalasyp’s leaving as an implicit invitation to come in.

“Lungs acting up again, Mr. Zarrow?”

He coughed, wet and phlegmy, the single sputter quickly turning into a fit as I kept a wary distance. The disease he had wasn’t infectious, but he could have picked something new off the streets.

“Ain’t it always them, Miss Falara?”

“And as always, you don’t have the money to pay me right now?”

He had the decency to look ashamed for once. “I’ll have it soon. I have something new lined up that will move some real cash. Just need some time to put it all together.”

“I don’t suppose I get any details before giving you another elixir for free?”

“Sorry, miss. You know how it is. If you tell anyone the details of anything, you’re begging for a one-way trip to the hells.”

Figured. I went for the closet I kept for remedies and potions here at home while Zarrow enjoyed a cup of coffee.

I opened the door to rack upon rack of not just my small home stockpile of foodstuffs but a small variety of preserved goods. I had enough to last a week, no more, maybe a little less depending on when I last had picked up food.

Zarrow was another part of my past, although he was unaware of that. I preferred to keep it that way, too. When I’d first run into him, I’d been shocked to see him alive. He should be dead, if not from his lung’s disease then from someone finally getting tired of his blatant cons and knifing him.

Instead, he stayed alive and continued to be in defiance of all the world thrown at him. The ultimate survivor. I’d let myself fall for some of his cons during my first year as Falara. It added to her realness. The District was packed with hundreds of Zarrows, and falling for at least one of their wiles was a rite of passage.

Even after I allowed myself as Falara to wise up, he’d attached himself to me ever since. He wasn’t a particularly egregious one in terms of limpets, so I just went along with it.

He spoke up while I went through the closet shelves, finding the one with disease remedies.

“If you’re having problems with Versalicci, maybe I could put a good word in with him. Him and I, we go way back. He holds me in high regard.”

“And how do you know I am having problems with Versalicci?”

“I was listening in. Peacock bugger was right. Don’t tell him that, though.”

“Perish the thought, Mr. Zarrow. But do tell me how you have the ear of the crime boss of the Black Flame?”

“I used to run with them, the Black Flame,” Zarrow said. “Member of the gang, tattoo, the whole package.”

“I rather doubt that. I’ve heard you don’t have an option to retire from that gang.” I know for a fact you were never a member. “If you were part of it, where is the tattoo?”

“It faded away after all the years I’ve piled on. All this wear and tear, it gets to you, makes you look battered, takes away all your features.”

“I’ve seen the tattoo Zarrow. It’s carved in, and either was enchanted or someone worked some form of permanent dye into it.” Actually, it was Devil’s blood, but Falara wouldn’t know or suspect that.

“Alright, maybe I exaggerate my standing a little. But I did help teach members of their gang. Before they became members, back when they ruled the street, used to have my own little gang I was the head of.”

I smiled. “You as the head of anything I have great trouble picturing.”

He grinned back at me. “Hey. That was uncalled for. I did for a while. We were a merry little band, living charmed lifestyles.”

We scrabbled, ate boots, and scammed folks in the District for what little coin anyone here had back then. In a way, I suppose you could call that charming. “I don’t think having taught some of his foot soldiers will endear you too much to him.”

“I did more than that; I trained some of his best people! Malvia Harrow, Sardasat Stoker, Gavlor Vertain, Mitlau Stricker, all learned the art of crime under my tutelage!”

Half of those names were lies. Gavlor had never worked under him, and Mitlau was an immigrant from an entirely different country. Also, everyone was dead except me.

“Dead names, Zarrow. I used Malvia Harrow myself yesterday off the list at Carnly’s.”

He frowned. “Didn’t know you knew old man Carnly.”

“Tolman told me about the place. I needed their services. An unfortunate necessity of yesterday’s events.”

“Watch on your tail?”

“Oh, them definitely. Maybe others. But that is my problem, Mr. Zarrow, not yours. How about instead of trying to convince Versalicci I’m on his side, you instead do some work for me when you’re free? With my usual rates applying.”

That meant fifty percent to paying off his tab, and fifty percent to stay in his pocket.

Zarrow looked like I’d just put a vial full of piss in his hands. “I’ll consider it.”

He despised making an honest living in any shape or form. Desperation would lead to his asking me later this week, but only after his latest con came crashing around his horns.

“Well, don’t consider it too long. This work might not be offered later, depending on how things are going.”

Where had I put that syringe? It cost me quite a pretty penny to purchase, so I had better not have lost it or left it in the lab. Ah, there.

As soon as he saw it, Zarrow went pale as a sheet. It was an impressive feat with skin that was a deep purple.

“What is that? It’s usually a vial.”

“You’ll get the vial as well. This is an…for lack of a better term, it’s an experiment.”

“I ain’t going to grow a second head or something like that, am I? I ain’t going to have to murder a copy of myself or become some kind of fleshbeast trying to consume people or something like that? Because I’d been reading those thriller novels, and they’ve been real instructive.”

I’d ask where he’d gotten his hands on those, but it would be wasted effort. Trashy novels on the dangers of arcane advancement were everywhere these days. “Of course not, Mr. Zarrow. Firstly, most of what you’ve described is biosculpting, not alchemy. Secondly, I would never inflict that on you. Besides, I don’t think the world would be ready for two of you. This will go into your upper arm. Let me just get some alcohol so we can sterilize it, and then I’ll just poke you with a needle.

Zarrow grew even paler. That honestly was rather impressive. Maybe I could pay him for a skin sample and see if there was something different about his pigmentation from other Infernals.

“It’s just a tiny little needle, Zarrow. It won’t hurt a bit.”

His mouth opened and closed several times until finally, a noise resembling a high-pitched warble came out, driving a spike of pain through my ear.

“I believe he’s reacting to me, Ms. Falara,” a familiar voice said behind me.

Internally sighing, I turned around to face its owner.

“Mr. Voltar, what a pleasure to see you this morning. Would you please step inside?”