Figures were visible milling around on the roof of the Wreckage. Kit looked at them, eyes gleaming. “You think they’ll try to come after us?”

“If they do, they’ll probably lose a finger,” Gyre said. “But we can make sure.”

He dug a firestarter out of his pocket, flicked it open, and applied the tiny light to the end of the cable. It caught immediately, burning with a cool blue flame that zipped up the way they’d come, briefly outlining a curve of light through the red-tinted darkness. Then it fell away in pieces, still burning as it dropped into the Pit.

“Where do you get these toys?” Kit said, delighted.

“I know an alchemist,” Gyre said, closing the firelighter.

He realized, abruptly, that he didn’t have a clue what to do next. They were standing at the end of a dingy alley. A single lamp provided the only light, throwing Kit in profile as she leaned her head back and squeezed her nose.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“I’ve had worse.” She looked down her bloody nose at him. “You?”

Gyre touched his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” Kit said, producing a handkerchief from somewhere, “but your scar is coming off.”

“My—” Gyre explored his cheek more thoroughly and found that the pasted-on scar was indeed falling apart where the Auxie had punched him. Damn. He slapped a hand over it, feeling stupid, and turned away.

“I imagine that’s why you usually wear a mask,” Kit went on. “More durable.”

Gyre froze.

“You are Halfmask, aren’t you?” She cocked her head, still holding the handkerchief to her nose.

“That depends,” Gyre said. He turned back, hand behind his back creeping to the handle of another knife.

“On what?”

“On who’s asking.”

“Oh.” She swept her arm out and performed a wide bow, inadvertently letting a stream of blood patter on the stone. “Kitsraea Doomseeker, at your service.”

“Kitsraea—” He stopped. “You sent me that note?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And you kissed me?” His lips tingled. He’d almost forgotten that part.

“It seemed like a good way to start a fight.”

“Why?”

“So that I could see if you could handle yourself,” Kit said. “You have no idea how many people don’t live up to their reputations.”

Gyre’s hand clenched into a fist. “This was a test.”

“And you passed! With flying colors.” She looked admiringly back at the Wreckage. “I was not expecting that, I must say.”

“What did you think I was going to do?”

“Start killing people, frankly. Isn’t that your line of work?”

“I …” He shook his head. “It feels impolite to kill people on their day off. Even Auxies.”