She’d gotten a few hours of sleep—if fitfully rolling around, trying not to think about impending doom, was considered sleeping. There’d been just one period of rest between two and six a.m., until the sound of her dagger falling to the floor woke her with a shout.

Morning’s arrival had been a blessing, restoring some sense of normalcy. After she’d climbed from her sheets, she’d slipped into a pair of thin grey trousers, her thigh-high boots, and a bright blue top—one of the few bright things Kester had bought her. She’d pulled up her hair into a high ponytail, and carefully applied her eyeliner. Monsters be damned, she would wrench back some sense of control and normalcy over her own life.

She took a long sip of coffee and cast an approving glance at her reflection in the chrome coffee maker. So maybe I live in a hellish new world of monsters and headsmen because F.U. sent me here. I’m not going to let myself fall completely to pieces.

The caffeine rejuvenated her. With the radio on, she almost felt like herself again, and she let her hips sway to the music, dancing along as Iggy Pop sang about stars coming out in the night sky. She loved that part…

Footsteps clacked over the floor, and she whirled, nearly spitting out her coffee.

Kester stood in the doorway, wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans. It would have been a perfectly sensible ensemble, if it weren’t for the sheathed sword at his waist, and the strange alchemical tattoos covering his forearms. “I like the way you move.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t just stride in here whenever you want.”

“What are your plans to find Hugo?” he demanded.

“Is there any way you can start knocking, or at least calling first?” What she really wanted to ask, but resisted, was Hey, can you tell me about that gorgeous and terrifying man upstairs? The Headsman clearly wasn’t in a mood for insubordination from a novice hellhound today.

“What is your plan?” he repeated.

“I’m pouring you some coffee first. You seem cranky.” She grabbed a ceramic mug from one of the cabinets, filling it with coffee. “I’ll approach Hugo at the Metropolitan Opera this evening. He’s going with some French model. I’ll get his soul.” She slid the coffee across the table.

“And you think he’ll be more agreeable tonight?” His gaze roamed over her fitted blue top.

Is he checking me out? “My plan is to do whatever it takes so I don’t have to burn for eternity.” She hated what she was becoming, but self-preservation came first. She’d have to sort through the ethics later. “And I was hoping Zee could come again and use her fairy magic.”