“I hope so,” Lou said. “For both our sakes—I hope so.”

The thing I wanted to say then, but didn’t, was: Lou, what we did all those years ago—we did together. I took the fall and I owe the Lady and it’s my ass on the line, but it was as much you as it was me. But I didn’t say it. I wasn’t even sure I believed it—that what had happened was as much Lou’s fault as mine.

The glow of the evening had been ruined, and no matter how many of the Bombs Away I gulped, it couldn’t quite lose its tarnish. By the time we decided to go home, get some rest, we were chattering about the usual things, both of us working hard to pretend nothing important had happened.

Lou leaned in to give me a hug as we reached her ride, and I could smell the lemon scent of her hair, her neck. I let go as soon as I could, but Lou clutched me tight. But when she broke the hug, her face was wiped clean of fear like it had never even existed.

“Headed home?” I asked, trying to ignore the feel of her still lingering in my arms.

Lou winked at me and turned away. “Tell Jackal I said hello,” Lou called over her shoulder, her flinty grin a little cut beneath my breastbone.

“I don’t think we’ll have time to talk about you at all,” I managed, feeling glad to see her go so I could process the Lady’s threat on my own—even if it meant losing the plugged-in zip of her presence, of watching her face as I made her laugh.

At the last possible moment, I reached for her hand but caught only air and told myself it was for the best.

Jackal kept a key taped to the back of the fire extinguisher outside his apartment door, snuggled against the dry and gummy cobwebs that crisscrossed the back of the box. He trusted too much in the laziness of other people; it was a hiding place that would stop a determined thief for all of thirty seconds.

The apartment was still hot from the day, clammy almost, if walls can be clammy. I could hear the whirr-buzz of Jackal’s air unit propped inside his bedroom window. I knew his place almost as well as my own. But I didn’t want it to feel like mine. I didn’t want anything of his to feel like mine.