Mookie’s not blazing. Not right now. So he’s just as blind as the rest of them.

But that doesn’t change what he knows.

He knows that the monsters are real.

And they’re here. Hidden in plain sight.

Skint is an ashy, dry-skinned albino. Sells flowers all around TriBeCa to make a buck. At least, that’s what he wants people to think. Nora knows him for something else: he’s a guy who brings people together. He knows everybody. Sets up meetings. He’s not an info broker like that Snakeface in Chinatown, but he can plant a whisper in every ear that matters.

He’s also not human. Not all the way, anyway.

He’s a half-and-half. Were she Blazing, she’d see a long-limbed freak with skin like cracked vellum and eyes like unpopped blood blisters.

Thankfully, right now she’s Blind.

She shoves a cuppa coffee in his free hand. In the other hand, he holds a bundle of roses. Other flowers sit in makeshift containers around his feet.

“Little Miss Thing,” Skint says. “Whadda you want?”

“Bought you Starbucks,” she says, smiling.

“I don’t drink Starbucks. Their coffee tastes like burned pubes.”

“I think you’ll like it.”

“I said I don’t drink this nasty-ass–” Suddenly he stops. Weighs the cup, finds it lacking. Skint’s dusty eyebrows lift in a curious arch and he pops the top. He sees the money curled inside. “Yeah, OK. What?”

“Don’t act so surprised I’m coming to you.”

“I just figured you were done in this town. Hadn’t heard much from you in the last few months. One minute you were selling Blue, next minute, poof.”

A jogger in a blue knit cap almost knocks her off her feet. She gives him the finger and barks some profanity about the jogger’s mother, then turns back to the albino. “Yeah, well. Things cooled down. But I’m back. I need you to get word out.”

“To who?”

“To everybody. All the gang heads.”

He looks at the cup. Then back at her. “This for that?”

“It’s enough. Besides, when I’m done, there’ll be more. A lot more.”

He’s dubious. That’s fine. Let him think she’s blowing hot air. He says, “I think you’re a bad investment, so let’s just call this charity, eh? What’s the message?”

“I want you to tell them that the Boss is a dead man. That it’s time to take back the city. You tell them I have a guy on the inside and a plan to bring it all crashing down.”

He laughs. “Big talk. And sounds like bullshit.”

“Just tell them, already. Unless you like all this?” She sweeps her arms as if to encompass the grandeur of standing on a shitty city corner. “The Organization doesn’t think a split-skinned freak like you is fit to kiss Zoladski’s dirty shoes. You’re a nobody out here. A piece of monster trash. But that can change. You can make them kiss your feet. Then kick them in the teeth as they pucker up.”

He pauses. Shifts from foot to foot, all anxious-like.