“Don’t even ask if I’ll blow Garvin off,” Taava started as soon as we’d sat down in our closed-off room. She twitched her tail irritably behind her, ears low and eyes focused. “I do that, and he goes ta the guard and I end up wanted—prob’ly not even for shit I’ve actually done.”

I took a breath, but the Kazzel continued, staring at me. “And we can’t just kill ‘em all either. They’re not all gonna be in one place and ya can bet your big red tail they’ll have a ‘witness,’ and we’ll end up wanted by half the damn city.”

“Okay,” I replied, tapping my forehead in lieu of a horn. “Why can’t we go with you?”

Taava hissed a sigh. “I get it: you’re wrath, not brains.” She glanced over at Seyari and Salvador, sitting next to me around the room’s small table. “One of ya—tell Renna why that’s a stupid question.”

I bristled.

Salvador looked to Seyari who replied with a thin-lipped frown, “Taava, don’t be a bitch, we’re trying to help you.”

““Hsssss,”” Taava and I both hissed.

My lover raised an eyebrow, her lips staying thin.

“Right, yeah,” I grumbled in concession. “We all go and suddenly the guard will get a tip we’re all working with the gang, that’ll get back to the Gelles Company and with how suspicious they already are of us, it’ll slam our door right in our faces.” I glared at the pleased-looking Taava. “Is that smart enough for you?”

“Yep!” Taava beamed, standing up from her seat and walking to her things. “I’m gonna take the window outta here. You lot sit tight and act pretty—if anyone comes ‘round askin’, ya don’t know this parta me.”

“If we can’t go with you, can we at least do something to help you not get killed?” I glanced to Seyari while Taava had her back to us. She shook her head. “I might be able to do something.”

Not revealing angelic stuff yet, Sey? Can’t say I blame you, I guess.

“Killed?” Taava loaded a small crossbow and stowed it… somewhere. “Garvin’s a drug runner, not an idiot. He’ll wanna get more money outta me an’ the Black Claw. ‘Course they’re gonna skewer him if they haven’t already. But right now, he thinks I got no power, no backup, and no way out. He doesn’t know what ya are, but he’ll ask ‘bout the company. I play my cards right, and I get ta know how corrupt the company is, and walk away with mosta my fingers.”

I furrowed my brow. “So there’s nothing we can do to help?”

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’, dingus.” Taava walked over and poked my forehead. “No demon-ey stuff either. We’re keepin’ that secret ‘till I need it.”

I felt a flare of rage at being told what to do. “Until we need it, Taava.” Even in human form a wisp of flame licked out on my breath.

Taava faltered. “Yeah, uh, we. Gotcha, boss.”

“Damn.” I leaned back in my chair, thankful for its sturdy construction. “Do we just let you go and sit up here alone and hope you come back? And we can’t go after you either, even if you don’t come back?”

“Yeah.” Taava’s tail drooped. “You’re catchin’ on.”

“Are you certain we cannot go to the guards if you don’t return?” Salvador asked. “If we’re persistent, our concern may reach someone who will do something.”

“If I’m not back by mornin’, I’m dead, Salvador,” Taava replied, ears low against her hair.

Salvador frowned in thought. “If you do not come back, through the mercenaries or the guard, I—no we—will find a way to help if we can or get closure if we cannot.”

Salvador’s sudden sincerity struck a chord with me. I wondered where it came from—did he perhaps see Taava as similar to his daughter? I didn’t dwell on what the reason might have been, I nodded, and even Seyari’s eyes softened.

Taava, for her part, hid her reaction well, but her breath quickened. “Right, yeah. I’m gonna get outta here before we get all sappy on each other. Chances are I’ll be back ‘fore ya get up, but I might have ta hole up somewhere. If I ain’t back tomorrow, go without me.”

“Stay safe.” Salvador said with finality.

Taava nodded, then crept to the window, lifted it open, and was gone.

Seyari got up and closed the window. “Fuckin’ hell, I hope she comes back.”

I looked at Salvador’s concerned face and back to Seyari. “We all do.”

***

From a nearby rooftop, Taava took one last look at the inn window where her friends were staying. Friends. What was she thinking? Whether she enjoyed their company or not, there was no use attaching labels to that sort of thing.

Just ends up hurting more later.

The former assassin flicked an ear to banish her thoughts. She had to be careful tonight; Garvin might want her dead, too, and that’d make things tricky.

Taava scampered down from the rooftop and started darting through alleys and over fences. She wore no colors—no protection, but would also draw no attention. If, however, she moved well enough.

Old training applied to more recent instincts, and Taava slowed once she was out of Drytown. The next few blocks she stuck to the shadows, and the tighter, slouching buildings helped her get out of the muck and farther away from unwanted eyes.

The moon was out tonight, waxing full and heavy in the sky, bathing the rooftops in a glow that’d outline anyone foolish enough to stay up there for long.

Or anyone coming down from above.

A shadow fell over her. Taava twisted to one side, dodging a knife aimed for her neck. Her tail reached out and grabbed for the man’s leg, shifting his balance.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Her attacker recovered, grabbing onto a gutter and flipping to land on a fence. Taava crouched lightly on the windowsill, tail hardly brushing the damp-slicked shutter behind her.

“If it ain’t Garvin’s singin’ rat,” the man drawled. “Ya know this ain’t yer turf.” He wore dark clothing, and a dirty red strip around his wrist.

“Don’t suppose you’re lookin’ for a song.” Taava hissed softly, checking her surroundings and buying time. One more, on the ground near the alley’s exit: a crossbow aimed her way.

“Nah, think I’d rather hear ya scream,” the man chuckled darkly, blade gleaming in the moonlight.

How creative.

Taava jumped just in time for a crossbow bolt to thud into the shutter behind her. The man leapt up after the kazzel, but caught a knife across the face, falling short of the more agile woman.

He cursed and wiped at the blood, landing on his feet on the muddy ground of the alley. With a shout, he gave chase, several pairs of footsteps following behind.

Up ahead, Taava’s ears swiveled around, trying to find a way out. Are they a patrol, or a hit squad?

Her feet carried her out of one alley and swiftly into another. She rolled under a goon that was waiting to grab her, driving a knife up and into his groin on the way by. He stumbled, and it gave enough time for Taava to kick off a wall and up onto a low roof. She headed toward Mudrat territory.

This doesn’t seem like a coincidence. At least if Garvin wants me dead, he’ll gloat about it first.

And maybe, just maybe, she could keep him talking long enough to either figure a way out, or let him talk himself into a reason to keep her around. A bolt skittered off a shingle next to her.

She turned course and headed for the worst place in the city—and her best way out. The old sewers—ironically called the Underwash. Back when Lockmoth had just been a fort at the river’s mouth, they’d probably helped clean away filth. Now, broken and sunken, the tunnels filled and drained with the tide, spilling their reeking stench all over Riverside and the nearby parts of the city.

The smell of filth was enough to make her sensitive nose burn even up on the rooftops, which meant the tide was out, and the Underwash wouldn’t drown her. Probably.

Taava dodged a few more goons before she found an entrance: an old archway half-buried in a silted-in canal. She gripped the edge and swung in, careful not to put her weight on the mud in the canal. That sucking mess could trap a person until the tide came in.

A rusted, barnacled spike of iron was Taava’s next handhold, and from there, she twisted the rest of the way inside, landing near the edge of the wall where the mud was shallowest. Immediately, she sank halfway up her shin and stifled a curse.

Her other foot wobbled on a barnacle-crusted piece of something she didn’t care to know about. With a stretch, she could reach back to the iron spike, which had probably once been part of a grating.

She was about to try to pull herself out when she heard voices. Her ears turned and she strained to hear, holding her breath to keep silent. She felt her heart beat urgently; no amount of training could truly erase the effects of running for one’s life.

“—this way,” someone said.

“—wash?” another asked.

The first replied. “If she… well I ain’t—"

“—tide comin’ in anyway!” the first voice finished with a barking laugh.

Crap. Taava looked down the dark tunnel. Ahead of her, the floor was full of mud up nearly to the curve of the passage all the way to the edge of her vision. Those idiots might actually have saved me! She waited until the voices left before her breath let out in a soft, shaky hiss.

Taava wasn’t the type to pray to any gods. But she did wish for the rusted spike to hold as she straightened her ankle and lifted her foot slowly.

Her foot, and the shoe laced tightly to it, came out slowly with a wet sucking sound. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then the spike snapped.

Eyes flaring, and with a surge of adrenaline, Taava kicked the wall with her muddy foot, sliding nearly back into the silt. She grabbed for the lip of the tunnel and her sharp-nailed fingers scratched stone before finding purchase in rotted mortar.

Keeping her momentum, she swung up and over, back out onto the street. Her hearing alerted her before her eyes did, and she dove behind a rotting barrel just in time for another crossbow bolt to smash into it.

There was a shout of alarm from the direction the bolt had been fired.

They’re waiting for me!? Something’s up. Red means they’re Bleeders, and Bleeders shouldn’t hate Mudrats this much.

Unless they’re after me specifically. Garvin’s doing? Maybe.

Taava was up and out from behind the barrel before the second bolt could take out what remained of her cover. She threw a dagger into the darkness where she’d heard a voice. The shuffle of movement and the ring of metal on stone echoed from the alley.

No hit—but the shooter wasn’t aimed up anymore. Taava took off across the open of the street, kicked off a closed stall, and scrabbled onto the rooftop. Subtlety be damned—she was close to Riverside and Mudrat territory.

Unless they’re waiting for me there, too. No, that doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

There was shouting from below and around her. Gangs didn’t usually operate like this, much less pull out so many people for one target. They were losing money tonight to do this.

And that meant one thing: Whatever they gained by taking her out was better than a whole night’s operation. Probably more, considering the total absence of a night watch in the area.

Something I should have noticed. I’m slipping. Head’s too far ahead to see what’s right in front—

Taava ducked and rolled, but not fast enough. Behind the chimney, really? And I didn’t hear him?

The man grabbed Taava’s shoulder and wasted no time taking a knife toward her throat. His hand gripped her shoulder painfully, but the hold was weak. Taava twisted out and under, bringing a knife up through the man’s jaw before he could take a second swipe.

He gurgled and Taava reflexively slid the blade down and out, slicing his throat all the way open. His weight fell onto her and she kicked it away. The dying man cracked the shingles where he fell, and he rolled off into the night, his blood mixing with the crimson scarf he wore.

The thud of his landing came after Taava had already jumped to the next roof. She saw the glint of something metal from a nearby alley. Cursing, she dropped into a slide off the side of the building, grabbed the drainpipe and swung to the next building over. Something flew by where she’d just been.

It’d better not be too wet for this, she thought as she kicked off the wall.

For a tense moment, her mud-slicked shoe started to slide, but it caught on the rough wall and Taava bounced onward, kicking forward between walls of the narrow alley. Her legs burned. Too much tavern food and not enough training.

She made it two blocks before she dropped into a roll and resumed her run. A shout came from the corner behind her; turning her foot, Taava pitched forward into a roll, a crossbow bolt whizzing over her head.

She came up on the other side and kept running. This time, there wasn’t anyone waiting for her around the corner. Another tense sprint past a row of miserable, slouching buildings, and Taava made it into Mudrat territory.

Fast as she could, she went for Riverside’s main street down toward the water and her meeting place. That might not stop the Bleeders from chasing her, but it’d make it harder for them. Unless the Mudrats are also after me, she thought grimly.

Thankfully, she was soon proven at least partially wrong.

“You’re late, Taava,” Vink said, sliding out from the shadows.

“Sorry,” Taava replied curtly.

“No insult?” Vink smiled. “Ya must really be nervous tonight.”

He knows something. “I guess.” Taava shrugged. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Oh sure, sure. Boss’s real excited ta see ya.” Vink’s smile shone far too brightly in the shadow of the alley.

Taava nodded, then turned and started walking quickly toward the waterfront, not waiting for Vink to follow.

He jogged quickly to catch up. “You’re alone, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Taava gestured to the wide-open street.

“What’s up with that new bodyguard a yours?”

Taava’s ears turned toward him. “Ya can ask Garvin later,” she hissed.

“Bitch.” Vink took a swing.

Taava ducked, biting back a retort. Even if Vink couldn’t get her angry, she didn’t need to waste time. “Let’s just go. Ya can sit in if Garvin okays it.”

“Oho, you’re really in trouble, ain’t ya?”

“Do you want to keep poking me, or do you want to find out, Vink?” Taava’s voice lost its accent and gained a cold edge.

Vink shut up.