“The one for my friend is good,” she said, casting another quick glance at the photo of the man he’d procured for Teo, taped to a white card with Spennard Cleaning Company at the top. The man in the photo was older than Teo, but had the same dark hair and a similar cut. She pocketed that one, then said, “Come on, show me what else you’ve got.”
He leaned back and put his feet up on the desk, his eyes roving over her once before he said, “Show me what you’ve got under all those clothes and maybe I can—”
Before he finished speaking, she’d jumped over the desk and placed a knife at his throat. When he gulped, the cigar tumbling from his mouth to the floor, she said, “I don’t have all day.”
Minutes later, he found a suitable photo of a girl with Sumeranian features—dark hair, light eyes and skin. It was hardly a match, but at least they were the same age, and the servants wouldn’t notice smaller differences if she flashed the card quickly enough. It took the man a while to tape the photo to the card while her knife was still at his throat, but he managed, and then she set off to meet Teo.
Since that had taken longer than expected, she had to take shortcuts to meet Teo on time, passing as quickly as she could through the Center.
Her first year as a Blade, Kohl had kept her close on his forays into the city. At first, she’d been miffed, thinking he didn’t trust her to go anywhere on her own. But it was something else. Those nights skirting authorities, discussing technique in the train station’s tower, Kohl introducing her to all his contacts, were a special type of training. While the others had been left to figure out Kosín on their own, Kohl had given her a front-row seat to his mastery of the city. She’d never known why he did this for her, but she hoped it was because for some reason, he didn’t want her to fail.
She entered a café, waved to the owner, and proceeded to the alley of overflowing dumpsters behind the building. She passed the receiving doors of shops, restaurants, and bars until a street opened on the right and a small huff of air caught her attention.
The alley served as a grimy courtyard where the residents of each building could hang lines of clothes to dry. Halfway down was the person she’d been thinking of: Kohl.
But he wasn’t alone. Three men were with him, including their Shadow, Mazir. Kohl slammed one of the other men to the ground, his movements swift and nearly soundless. The second man lunged at him, but Kohl grabbed his arm, stretched it taut, and slammed into it above the elbow to break it.
A sliver of red moonlight flashed on the barrel of Kohl’s gun. He raised it, and with one bone-shattering shot, Mazir fell to the ground before he even had a chance to defend himself. Two swift shots took out the other men. Aina had stopped breathing. Something about Kohl’s kills always stunned her, as if they were an unattainable level of efficiency that would forever mark her his inferior.
“Kohl!” she whispered before ducking in case he might fire at her. But he merely looked up, his blue eyes latching on to her without any hint of surprise, as if he’d known she was there the whole time.
Once she walked toward Kohl, Aina nudged Mazir’s body with her foot. Just like that, one of their own was gone. No one in the Dom would speak of Mazir again after learning that Kohl had killed him. Every time they’d ever joked or worked together evaporated into distant memory. Blank eyes stared up at her, declaring, Screw up and you’ll be next.
“What did he do?” she whispered, pushing loose hair behind her ear and trying not to picture Mazir’s body being carried on the barge toward the mass graves in the south.
Kohl pointed to one of the other bodies. “He’s the one who gave the baker information. They were both at the casino together, Mazir drank a bit too much firebrandy and spilled some secrets. Tannis found out that it was him.”
Aina briefly wondered what secrets Mazir had told the baker, and which of those the baker had sold to the Jackals, but kept the question to herself. Kohl would only tell her that if he wanted to. Too much curiosity would make him distrust her, and then he might become suspicious of her own secrets.
When Kohl holstered his gun, he bent to confiscate some kors from the dead men’s pockets. He was close; close enough that she could see the crease of his shirt along the muscles of his back, close enough to smell the sweat on him and feel the heat from his body.
There was an odd tension between them, one partially fueled by the challenges of their job and by … something she hadn’t quite experienced before. It was admiration multiplied by the competition to always be the best. Her body didn’t seem to know the difference between that and the strange heat between them now. What was this push-and-pull dynamic that always kept them just inches away from each other? Did he feel it too, or was it all in her head?
She shoved down those thoughts. If Kohl could keep emotions and impulse out of his work, then so could she. If she wanted to prove herself to be more valuable to him than Mazir ever was, then she had to be flawless in killing Kouta Hirai.
“Tonight is the night,” she said, meeting his gaze with nothing but confidence.
“For your Hirai hit?” Kohl nodded slowly, pride tinging his voice. “You know why I picked you, right? I see a lot of my own ambition in you. You can do this. Good luck, Aina.”
He walked by her, their shoulders touching briefly. Then he disappeared down the alley without a glance back.
“I don’t want luck,” she whispered to the dead men.
* * *
Minutes later, after a few more shortcuts, Aina reached a burlesque theater on Lyra Avenue. Teo stood off to the side with a bag in hand, his shoulders hunched against the cold wind blowing through a gap in the buildings.
“Is this your side job?” she asked, gesturing at the theater. He rolled his eyes and led the way.
As they walked, the crowds grew rowdier. Nighttime revelers were on their way to whatever entertainment they could find: bars that never closed, burlesque theaters and brothels that catered to every taste, the casinos sucking in addicts every day. Music blared on street corners, mixing with loud, drunken shouts that kept her senses sharp and eyes peeled.
Soon, they reached a garden-lined street of Rose Court lit by purple and silver lights from the window of a shoe shop. Between a bakery and a silk clothier across the road, a curving bridge led to Amethyst Hill.
The Tower of Steel loomed to their left as they walked, a black monolith against the starlit sky. The streets became dirt, and trees soon surrounded them. She was always uneasy when walking through forests, since the concrete and stone of Kosín were much more familiar to her than grass and tree roots. She had to watch her step carefully to avoid tripping. Teo, on the other hand, had no such problem with the terrain. His parents had been falcon riders in the steppes of Linash, using giant falcons to hunt and to spot gold in the terrain. They’d taught him how to navigate nature. He stepped with a limber gait over fallen branches and twisted roots, his hands touching cypress trunks like they were extensions of his arms.
The plan was simple. This far from the city, the guards never saw any action, so they wouldn’t expect her and Teo until it was too late and Kouta’s maids were screaming for help. It would be done in less than an hour, and she hoped no more blood would be shed than was necessary. The goal was to take out the mark as quickly and efficiently as possible, not to cause a massacre in a city that already leaked blood from the gutters.