Anji glanced at the window—thought about jumping out, about her chances grappling with Kit here on the floorboards. Kit crossed to her bed and sliced a long strip of cloth from the sheets. She ripped the strip away and sheathed the knife, handing the cloth to Anji.

“Tie this around your nose and mouth,” she said.

Anji hesitated, frowning, but took the cloth. Kit swung the bag around and crossed to the dresser.

“What the hell is going on?” Anji said, but she tied the cloth to her face regardless. Her voice was muffled under the moldy fabric as she said, “Are we robbing the place or something?”

“Shut up and listen,” Kit said. She opened the bag and Anji felt a wave of embarrassed frustration wash over her as she tried and failed again to see how Kit opened it. The Hawk fished out a vial.

“Oh, we’re just going to get high, is that the plan?”

“I said shut up,” Kit hissed, jerking the bag closed once more. Anji snapped her mouth closed, studying the container. It looked much different from the vials of Rail Kit had been sniffing at. This one was bulbous and squat, made of a thick, clear glass much sturdier than the leaf-green vial of Rail. A sphere filled with amber powder, perfect save for the cork smothered with hard yellow wax.

Another crash issued from the common room below, followed by a tangle of barked commands and high-pitched yelping. Anji rushed forward but was stopped by Kit’s outstretched hand. The Hawk’s mask shifted in the dim light of the coming storm outside, traced in latticed shadows.

“Kit!”

They both twisted toward the room’s door.

“That was Berip,” said Anji. “We have to get down there—”

“We will, but you need to listen,” Kit said, running a slender thumb against the sphere. “The cloth will hold most of it back, but try not to breathe until you’re—”

“I don’t understand why you won’t—”

“Will you for once in your miserable life stop fucking talking,” Kit said, holding a hand up, her voice so quiet a slight breeze would have drowned it out. Anji snapped her mouth closed. She glanced at the open door once more, and they both heard a sound like a hammer slapping meat followed by a grunt of pain and a tangled clatter of wood. Kit turned back to Anji. “If there was ever a time you would be silent and do as I say, let it be now, both for our sakes and theirs.”

Then Kit squeezed Anji’s uninjured hand, and she felt a rush of—was it comfort? Fear? Anji buried her questions, heart thundering against her ribs. Kit slipped the blue bag off one thin shoulder and piled it along with their other things unceremoniously into Anji’s arms.