“Alright,” I say to Jane, taking her off the trash can. “See? Told you that would work, and now everyone’s a winner.”

  “You’re very upbeat for someone who’s home is in ruin and looks like she’s been run over by a semi truck,” Jane says to me as I tie her hair to my belt. “Are you always like this? So…optimistic? Aren’t you exhausted? I mean, you literally just cut yourself so you could haggle with some dead people. Isn’t that at least a little tiring?”

  I shrug. “Nobody’s gonna come wipe the blood off my lips for me, so what else am I supposed to do, you know? Besides, something good just happened for us, and I’m not hearing voices in my head right now, so it looks like I’m not crazy. As for being optimistic, I’m not. My house got ruined. The cops wouldn’t care. All I want to do is hunt down whoever killed you, so I can do them a favor and kill them back. Or maybe beat him until he pisses himself wet. Haven’t decided yet.” Then I might rob them for all they’re worth so I can fix my place up, but I guess we’ll see when the time comes. I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Besides, no reason to be gloomy. It’ll be sunrise in a few hours, and that means the sun doesn’t give a shit about if you’re sad or not. Clock is ticking, Jane.”

  “I mean, that’s one way to look at it,” she mutters. Then I stumble and curse as pain shoots up my ankle. I look down, but there’s nothing that tripped me on my way out of the alleyway. I put weight down on my right foot again, then swear under my breath. Great. My sock feels wet and warm, and when I sit on a stack of forgotten cinder blocks and pull off my shoe, I find a nasty gash along my heel. I already bandaged my hand with a handkerchief I found in my bag, but this? This is just straight awesome. It doesn’t take long for me to find the rusted nail I stepped on sticking out of my shoe. “Wow,” Jane whispers. “Have you considered a shrine? You’ve got a lot of bad vibes.”

  “Thanks for the advice, I’ll remember to check if I’m still banned from the one two blocks away,” I mutter, sliding my sock off my foot, peeling it away from the bloody skin. I squeeze my eyes shut and swear again, praying to the Gods that I haven’t just given myself some kind of disease. I swear, this shitty building keeps shedding bricks and paint, rivets and nails every other day like some stripper living in Oceanica. Fuckin’ cheapskate landlady Elf.

  She can sell that stupid purple poodle of hers and spend the money on fixing the place.

  Gods, the next time I see her…

  “How, if I can ask, does one get banned from a place of worship?”

  “Long story,” I mutter, fishing for a sewing kit, and instead finding a needle, staples, and glue. I guess I’ll take the glue. Fuck. “But just know that Angels really hate it when you try to save the Fairies in their basement.”

  Jane remains silent for a second, mulling over my words, then says, “So the rumors are actually true?”

  “Beats me. I got beaten halfway to Sunday by those chicken-winged priests ‘for I even got down there.”

  “And…this is your chosen lifestyle, a bounty hunter for hire?”

  “Beats working at MageDonald’s, doesn’t it?”

  “But it’s safer!” she says, watching—horrified—as I pinch together the wound and begin punching the few staples I’ve got into my skin. Hurts, but…well, you grow up without shoes, your feet get kinda numb to this kinda stuff. Next comes the glue—not normal glue, at least. MageCo stuff. They sell it for a dollar a pop, so I’ve got a few in my bag that can keep two things together for months. Is it bad for your skin, Kace? Don’t know, don’t really care.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Yeah, and it’s more boring,” I tell her, the bottle of glue now in my mouth as I pull my sock back onto my foot. It hurts. Hurts like fucking hell. Can’t afford to sit around and wait, though. “That’s not the life I wanna live.”

  “What kind of life are you living right now, bruised and cut up and bleeding?” she asks me. “Alone?”

  I immediately tense halfway through putting my shoe back onto my foot. It’s that brief spike of anger that lets me force my foot into my Converse, tying the laces loose enough to not have pain throbbing up and down my leg, but tight enough to keep it actually on my foot—double knot and everything. I stand up, put force down onto my foot, and swallow the heat of agony that burns up my foot. It’ll get numb eventually, then start healing. Maybe.

  “I’m not alone,” I say to her. “I’ve got a talking head to keep me company on my way.”

  “Once again,” she says, smiling, her cheeks flushing red a little, “woefully optimistic, Kacey.”

  “Anyway,” I say, limping out of the alleyway and onto the street. I look left and right, trying to weigh my options right now. The ring is around my neck, laced together with an old necklace with a tiny golden sword. “I’m thinking we hit a forge and see if they can find where this ring comes from. I know a couple people who might not want to see me, but they owe me, and I can cash in on those.” I limp for a moment down the street, then pause.

  Jane is shaking her head, which means rubbing her cheek against my thigh. “Uh, can I recommend something?”

  “All ears.”

  “That ring doesn’t look cheap,” she says, and this isn’t a conversation we should probably be having with people sitting on curbs and footstools, looking for an easy picking. I duck back into the alleyway. “Can I…?” I pull off my necklace and show her the ring. For a moment, her brow raises at the sword crest emblazoned on the shield pendant, but I’m not gonna talk to her about that, and she takes my face as an answer. “See the ruby? That’s easily somewhere North of a handful of gold, maybe just Drachma instead. It’s also worn down. Edges are smudges and there’s no silver underneath the gold, so it’s the real deal. Going to ‘some forge’ probably isn’t a great idea, Kacey.”

  We’re thinking the same thing, because I’d probably be lied to and mugged for it, considering my previous debts to most of the forges around these parts. Good thinking, Jane. I sigh under my breath and say, “What now?”

  “I…” She hums a little, then says, “I think I might remember someone. Someone I think I trust.”

  A lot of thinking in that sentence. “Are you sure they’d be able to tell where it’s from?”

  “Are Fallen Angels perverts?”

  “Touche,” I mutter. “But do you remember where they used to be?”

  “Yes!” she says. I let her have this win. The brain fog must be clearing up. Then she frowns a little and bites the corner of her lip. “The bad news is that it’s all the way in Dogway East. But it’s a great forge. Great people, too.”

  I stare at her. “Did you just say Dogway East? That’s, like, a death sentence for me!”

  She sucks air through her teeth. “That many people hate you, huh?”

  I don’t bother explaining, and instead run my fingers through my hair. She’s got a point, though. I can’t just take something this expensive to ‘some forge’ and hope for the best, especially if it’s around here. One of these guys talks, and then that Mage knows who exactly has their ring. Or I can travel all the way to Dogway East and use someone that Jane trusts instead. Dogway isn’t exactly known for its trusting and loving citizens, though, is it? But I kinda have both arms behind my back right now. Common sense is telling me to risk it here, but my gut wants to gamble on the underground forges instead. I groan, more out of frustration than anything else, and look at the head.

  “You remember the way there?” I ask her. “To the forge?”

  “Yep!” she says. “At least, I think so.”

  “Let’s hope you do,” I mutter. “Or else I’m about to get mugged and shot.”

  Alrighty, then. Let’s go downtown.