Auster gave his best attempt at a playful smile. “Then we’re screwed.” He pulled Paj toward him until he was low enough for Auster to kiss him. Right there in the street, for anyone to see.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Finished?” West said impatiently.

Auster looked at Paj as if he was waiting for him to answer.

Paj sighed. “Finished.”

Auster let go of him, satisfied for the moment, and we followed him into the narrow alley between the last two buildings on the street. The opening lay between the signs for a tea house and a launderer, and the bricks turned black, painted with the soot.

Auster walked with his shoulders pulled back. I could see the armor going up around him, the softness of his face changing, and the weight of his steps growing heavier. Whatever he was about to face, he was bracing for it.

The alley came to an end, where an iron door lined with rivets was fit into the brick.

A string of something above it caught the wind, swinging. I squinted, trying to make it out, and grimaced when I realized what it was. “Are those…?”

“Teeth,” Auster muttered, answering before I’d even finished.

“Human teeth?”

Auster lifted an eyebrow. “The price of lying to Henrik.” His hand curled into a fist before he raised it, and he looked over his shoulder to Paj once more before he knocked.

“You should wait out here,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Paj laughed bitterly in response, shaking his head once. “That’s never going to happen.”

Beside me, West’s hand went to the back of his belt, ready to take hold of his knife. There was only the soft drip of water filling the silence as we stood before the closed door. I couldn’t stop staring at the string of teeth.

Paj tapped the buckle of his belt restlessly, but Auster didn’t seem concerned. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, and when the latch finally creaked, he didn’t so much as flinch.

The door cracked open enough for a young boy’s face to appear. The deep valley of a scar curved over his cheek. “Yes?” He looked more irritated than interested in whatever we wanted.

“Looking for Ezra,” Auster said flatly. “Tell him Auster’s here to see him.”

The boy’s eyes went wide as he stumbled backward. “Auster?” The way he said the name sounded as if it came with a story.

Auster didn’t answer, stepping into the dimly lit entry with the rest of us on his heels. A series of hooks lined the wall, where a few jackets and hats were hung beneath a series of gold-framed oil paintings. They were depictions of the sea in different styles and colors, and completely out of place on the cracked plaster walls. Even the tiles under our feet were fractured, their mosaic patterns tipping and turning where pieces were missing.