The man didn’t answer, fighting for a grip. By the look of it, he didn’t have the breath to form words. A dog had a paw on his chest, and was leaning forward, exerting what had to be hundreds of pounds.

“Hold on,” I said. “Wait a second.”

“This is my business, not yours.”

“It’s everyone’s business if you’ve got people at the window over there watching. Word gets around. What happened?”

“He looked at me funny.”

“Y—what?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The guy on the ground was groaning. I was reminded of the day I’d first glimpsed the Siberian. This woman, then a teenager, attacking people in her territory for the crime of being there. Maiming some.

She had henchmen, by the looks of it. I looked at the nearest one. “Am I missing something?”

“Nah. He looked at her funny,” the girl in the heavy jacket covered in patches and buttons said. Her eyes were heterochromatic.

Rachel whistled twice, two short sounds, more like a bird call than anything. The dog lifted its head, peering at her with one eye.

“Soft,” she said. She indicated the mercenary. As the dog lowered its head, mouth open, she said, “Good.”

“Not good,” I said, as I saw the dog take the mercenary’s head into its mouth.

“What the hell?” Rain asked, as he caught up. The Heartbroken were with him.

Rachel, though, turned our way. She wiped at her nose with her sleeve, leaving a wet line on it, then saw something—someone, and smiled. She hopped down from her dog onto snow, gave it a few heavy slaps on the side, and said, “Stay.”

“Stay is good,” I said, eyeing the mercenary.

She walked past me to where the Heartbroken were. Her hug of Chastity was forceful enough that Chastity had to take a step back, awkward with Rachel holding her.

“I’m still annoyed,” Chastity said.

“Get over it. We have work to do. Now hug me back.”

Dutifully, Chastity did. The hug broke, and Chastity seemed very at ease in the wake of it.

For Candy, Rachel bent down, then straightened up. A big hug, Candy’s feet dangling. Rachel’s hand went to the back of Candy’s head, fingers in her hair. Those fingers gripped the hair close to the scalp.

“Don’t muss my hair,” Candy said, into Rachel’s shoulder.

“Long hair is a weakness,” Rachel said. “It’s something your enemies can grab.”

“You have longer hair. You have dogs with longer fur.”

“I’m all out of enemies and my dogs don’t have hair when they’re grown,” Rachel said. “And I have long hair because I don’t care enough to bother one way or the other. But you make your hair this nice, braid parts, put pins in parts, make it all shiny—”

“Conditioner, Aunt Rachel.”