Sunny smiled up at me, the torchlight gleaming sharply off her teeth. “What, can’t you find him again?”

I shut my mouth so hard it was lucky I didn’t bite my tongue.

“Besides, I think he will keep his promise. You heard what he said about Faerie. I think his bridges are burned in a big way there. And if he’s grateful for a little mercy, we might be able to get some help out of him.”

“Testimony.”

“That, too. I was thinking of the kids that are half-changed, and the virus. If he’s actually the originator of the passport, he may know enough of his stuff to repair some of the damage.”

She stood up, and the torchlight fell full on her face. She was tired, and angry, and nothing like any movie cop I’d ever seen. I was fascinated by the texture of the skin on her forehead, the tight lines of her lips. She met my stare and frowned.

“Vengeance is somebody else’s,” she said. “Don’t ask me whose. But it’s not in my job description, no matter how much you or I wish it was.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” I said.

Lightning was shuttling between clouds, where the sky showed between gaps in the buildings. “I need to take the bike back to the garage,” I said, as she settled into the sidecar. “Do you want me to drop you at home?”

“Are you staying at Tick-Tick’s apartment?”

“No, I’ll walk back to my place.”

“I’ll stick with you, then, and walk you home.”

I looked at the sky. “You’ll get rained on.”

Sunny shrugged. “Now that I’ve lost my wheels, I better get used to walking in the rain.”

I pulled my helmet on, to avoid saying anything else, and to dodge her eyes. As we pulled away from the not-a-cooking-school, I thought about how it might work. If I had the nerve. I wouldn’t have the nerve. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of my building, inviting her to come up for a beer—did I have any beer? Damn it, no, I didn’t, and I couldn’t invite her up for one and stop at Yoshi’s on the way to bum some more beer. Well, tea. I could offer her tea. I wondered if the apartment was marginally clean. I should have said I was staying at the Ticker’s, where there was something in the icebox.

Someone sprang up off the stoop of the Ticker’s building as we drew near in the street. I almost recognized her. I stopped the bike and tugged off my helmet, and it came to me. Small, with a long brown braid—she was the one who knew history at the Daughters of Brede. The temperature around me seemed to have dropped ten degrees.

“Orient? You’re Orient, right?”

I nodded. Sunny had her helmet off, too, and was watching me. I didn’t look at her.

“Can you go to the care hostel right away?”