“The harlies. And the scarred ones. The mysterious Rephs that rose up against Nashira.”

“Are they still alive?”

“No one knows. But I’m willing to bet they’re not. Why would Nashira let them walk around the city, knowing they’re traitors?”

My fingers shook. I hid them under my sleeves.

“I’ve seen enough,” I said.

David walked me back to Magdalen. It was still a few hours until dawn, but I didn’t want to see anyone else. Not tonight.

When the tower was in sight, I turned to face David. “I don’t know why you spoke to me,” I said, “but thank you.”

“For what?”

“Showing me the shrine.”

“You’re welcome.” His face was cast in shadow. “I’ll give you one more question. Provided I can answer it in less than a minute.”

I thought about it. I still had so many questions, but one had bothered me for a few days.

“Why are they called Bone Seasons?”

He smiled.

“Don’t know if you know, but bone used to mean ‘good,’ or ‘prosperous.’ From the French, bonne. You might still hear it on the streets. That’s why they named it: the Good Season, the Season of Prospect. They see it as collecting their reward, the great condition of their bargain with Scion. Of course, the humans see it differently. To them, bone just means that: bones. Starvation. Death. That’s why they call us bone-grubbers. Because we help lead people to their deaths.”

By now my whole body was cold. Part of me had wanted to stay out here. Now I wanted to leave.

“How do you know all this?” I said. “The Rephs can’t have told you.”

“No more questions, I’m afraid. I’ve already said too much.”

“You could be lying.”

“I’m not.”

“I could tell the Rephs about you.” I stood my ground. “I could tell them what you know.”

“Then you’d have to tell them that you know, too.” He smiled at me, and I knew I’d lost. “You can owe me a favor for the information. Unless you want to pay me back now.”

“How?”

My answer came when he touched my face. His hand pressed against my hip. I tensed.

“Not that,” I said.

“Come on.” His hand stroked up and down my waist, and his face came closer to mine. “You hock up your pill?”

“What, you want some sort of payment?” I pushed him away, hard. “Go to hell, red-jacket.”

David never took his eyes off me.

“Do me a favor,” he said. “Found this in Merton. See if you can make anything of it. You’re smarter than I thought.” He pressed something into my hand. An envelope. “Sweet dreaming, 40.”