I found a spot in an alley and edged the car in, deciding to drop the argument for the moment. There, in the dark, Malachi handed me my knife belt. He slid a baton into a holster on his back, hidden under his shirt. Our movements were practiced. We didn’t need the light. I barely needed to think. He’d trained me like this, in the dark of the basement of the Guard house, so now my fingers moved on their own to check the knives and secure them along my waist, to make sure they were in exactly the right position in order for me to draw them quickly. Wordlessly, we got out of the car and walked down the street, side by side.

The cool breeze blew my hair around my face as we walked block by block, keeping an eye out for alley dwellers and hookers, anyone looking like they were seeking company for the evening. Up near one of the massage parlors, I spotted a familiar face. It was one of the two boys I’d seen the night Henry and I stayed in the homeless camp. “Hang back,” I said to Malachi.

He slowed his pace and let me walk ahead, sniffing the air. The kid, lanky and narrow-faced, watched me approach with wary curiosity, probably wondering whether I wanted drugs or sex or both. Which seemed incredibly sad, because he looked no older than fifteen. He crossed his arms while his fingers fiddled with the loose cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “How’s it going?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. Do you remember me? We met a few weeks ago, out at the camp by the interstate.”

He took a cautious step back. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Where’s your friend?”

His brows drew together. But he didn’t run.

“The camp was attacked that night. I never got to see who got away. I heard you and your friend screaming.”

He looked at the ground at my feet and tugged at a greasy curl of hair on his forehead.

“I’m not a narc,” I said.

“Is he?” The kid raised his head and stared at Malachi, who must have been standing behind me.

“No. He’s here to make sure no one gets dragged off. Is that what happened to your friend?”

The kid’s gaze darted back to mine. “He wasn’t my friend. We were just hanging out.”

He and I took a step away from each other as a cop car cruised by. “Have you seen him since then?” I asked.

He nodded. “A few times. There’s some kind of new weed on the street, and he’s deep into it. Selling it, I think. They’ve got some kind of crazy scene going on in this abandoned warehouse down in the Jewelry District. I think it’s off Eddy Street?”