A corner spigot came free, so I ducked in and soaped up fast. The water was outdoor temperature, warm enough to cut the grease and dirt. If it went below sixty, heaters would supposedly kick in. Had yet to see that happen.

The woman next spigot over wasn’t cheering. Ash-brown skin drawn tight over raised veins, gray dusting her stiff curls. Rosemary or Thyme, some herb name I couldn’t bring to mind.

I nodded toward Gracie and her audience. “She say how it went down?”

“Ummm. Likely a guy from Tall Tommy.”

A solid, older den over west. “Not them!”

She shrugged.

“But we have a deal with them.”

“Well, it was dark. But she saw a lot of tattoos.”

Tall Tommy, for whatever reason, was into full-body decoration. They were also—or at least, their leader was—famously hot-tempered, and dens tended to clump like to like. But we’d never been warned against them. “Why would they go after her?”

“Why would anyone?”

“I mean, it could’ve been anyone . . . some rogue, even an Adder. Adders like tattoos.”

“An Adder would’ve finished her off, just for the fun of it.”

Then dragged her home for the cook pot, if rumors were actual.

My neighbor lifted her face to her spigot, lips tight. This water you did not want to swallow. “Word is the deals aren’t being enforced like they used to.”

The trickle down my back was turning colder. “Why not?”

“Hard to say.” Her look said: yet another thing I can do nothing about.

“But that means . . .”

“Yep. The streets will get a whole lot nastier.” She chortled bleakly. “Don’t know why anyone’s surprised. The calm after the storm never lasts long.”

I sucked in my lip. “That’s what Rubio says.”

“Old Mr. Doom and Gloom?”

“He’s not so old.” Just looks it, I allowed. She had to be near senior herself.

“Figure of speech.” She reached to shut the water off. She was missing part of two fingers and had ridged burn scars from wrist to elbow. “He a friend of yours?”

“Tier-mate.” Didn’t want her thinking I was dating him or anything. “He means well.”

“Could’ve fooled me. But in that case . . .” She leaned in to whisper. “Tell him maybe lighten up a bit. Give his cred a boost, y’know?”

“His cred?”

“Yeah. People take it bad, his talking against the den.” She glanced away to check who might be listening.

“He doesn’t!” Well, of course he did, but . . . “I mean, only that he thinks it’s important to share ideas, work out the kinks in the system. Improve things. For the future of the den.”