“I saw you,” he said. He held out his hand. She stepped back. “I saw you held by the Watch, in that station. A vision, clear as mine used to be. I came to find you. I’m wondering. I don’t … I don’t know how to say this. I’m looking for the Blue Lady. I’ve lost her. Can you help me find her again?”

Izza stared from his palm to his bulging green eyes, and back again to the hand.

The Lady. How did he know that name? How could he have known?

Didn’t matter. In the end, this was just another cry for help.

You can’t leave. Nick stood in the broken warehouse of her mind.

Margot reached for her.

She ran.

“No!”

She was fast, and young, and though a Penitent might catch her on an open stretch no fat Iskari poet could do the same. She crested the fire escape, scampered onto the roof, and threw a handful of gravel onto the roof of the next house over so he’d think she’d run farther. Then she lay sprawled, and listened.

“I miss her, too!” he shouted from the street, not after her so much as at the stars. His voice was ragged with fear and longing. “I need her!” Footsteps on concrete. “Help me.” Fainter now, and distant. His back turned, given up.

Soundless, she stood. Margot shuffled down dockside streets, green dyed black by night. The moon hung low in the west, a sliver sharp as a smile. She followed him.

Across the street, blind eyes watched them go.

Chapter 15

15

Izza returned to the warehouse late, tired, scared, and found Cat seated in the center of the floor, legs crossed so each foot rested on the opposite thigh, hands palms up on her knees. Cat’s green eyes reflected the thin light that filtered through the broken warehouse roof.

“I found Nick,” Izza said. Her voice shook. She steadied it. “I told him off.”

“Thank you,” Cat said. “Must not have been easy.”

Izza nodded. She stood by the hole, and did not enter the warehouse.

“You want to talk?”

But the words hung on empty air. Izza was gone already. She climbed to the rooftops, and crossed a few blocks over to bed.

The next night she brought Cat food and water, and the next and the next after that, but each time she said “you’re welcome” when Cat said “thank you,” and left.

On the fourth night, when she entered the warehouse, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned fast, felt the food she’d brought slosh in the wicker basket. Cat crouched in the hole they used for a door, blocking Izza’s avenue of escape. “Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Get out of the way.”

“You’ve been on edge. If we’re watching out for one another—”

“I never asked you to watch out for me.”