I’m finding out the hard way why eating so much so quickly after supposedly getting your stomach pumped is easily a top ten bad idea. The sewer grate outside the garage has had its fill of my lunch by the time I stumble back into the open garage and sit on a stack of tires. I hang my head and knuckle away the vomit in the corner of my mouth. At least nobody saw. There’s a van in here with me, beige with a red stripe along its side, something big enough for several people. Out on the street, the sun is going down, making the water glisten and the street simmer quietly with heat. Kids ride their bikes and guys straggle along, looking for something to inhale for the night. Beer or pixie dust, be my guest. San Fraccuros, like New Salem, just doesn’t sleep anymore. Kinda like everyone’s afraid another Rift is gonna open up and we’ll be thrust back to eating rats as Monsters darken the sky and fill the streets.

  At least, that’s what my grandfather used to say it was like. Seemingly, that mentality has lingered. Nobody has the time of day to sleep anymore. Work to do, money to make, a Rift might open tomorrow and that’ll be that.

  But at least you won’t have to pay your rent for that month if another war starts back up.

  “There you are,” a voice says. I glance over my shoulder. Vicky comes over with a bottle of water and hands it to me, which I down, spit into a bucket full of wasted engine oil, and drink the rest. She leans against the van and folds her arms, looking at me, and then at the street and the waters beyond. “Thought you ran off on me.”

  “Tried to, I’ll be honest, then I had to puke my guts out,” I mutter, crumpling the bottle in my hands.

  Vicky laughs a little. “Lu isn’t gonna be happy to hear that. She’ll think she cooked it wrong.”

  I grunt and keep watching the street, silent for a moment, sitting with my thoughts. Then I look at her, and find that she’s looking at me, circular red sunglasses hanging from her vest. “You’re some kind of bounty hunter.”

  “Yeah?” she asks me. “What gives you that idea?”

  “You remind me of my older sister,” I say. “You wanna play mama bear, but you’ve got rough hands, scars on your back that look like something only a Vampire can give you, and you walk with a slight limp. Sprained ankle or something older. You’re the first to enter a room and the last one out of it. Gotta make sure everybody else gets their cut before you call it quits.” I throw the plastic water bottle into a trash can, which I obviously make first try. “I mean, look at you. You’re physically gifted, but you’re also not what you used to be. Too much wear ‘n’ tear.”

  Vicky’s eyes glint as she says, “Looks like we’ve got a detective in our midsts.”

  “Nah,” I say, waving her off. “People think I’m either an air-head or just don’t care enough about my surroundings to check things out, but I pick up on small details, like how you’re blind in your left eye, Vicky.”

  “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

  “Gorgon saliva,” I say, then tap the side of my head. “Happened to me once. This pair of eyes aren’t even my original ones. Had a ‘mancer friend of mine plug in a new pair after I paid him back with a favor. Black veins in the corner of your eye, involuntary blinking, and you tear up every once in a while and blink it away, but that’s blood, not just salt-water. They look red to normal people, but I didn’t lose my first set of eyes just to see normal shit again.” What I see on a daily basis is magic that lingers, like it had around the dumpster and my apartment. It’s nothing special. Pay enough and you’ll get your fix. Even now, sitting here in this humid and muggy garage, her magic simply doesn’t exist, and that’s what irks me the most. The way she moved earlier? That’s not human, and not just any Mage can do that, and yet here she is with her plain-color eyes and missing magical aura. A pure plain jane.

  But I’ve met people like her before, and they’re the worst kind of people to have on your bad side. Anyone else woke me up in a weird house and entirely new city would’ve gotten their jaw cracked and head smashed open.

  If I try it with her kind, then I’m about to get a fistful of the tire wrench beside her work boots.

  You just don’t fuck with Spartans.

  Which is weird, because I, for one, thought they were all ‘decommissioned.’ Relics of another era.

  Victoria smiles thinly. “I like you, blondie. At first I thought you were just some street kid.”

  “Pretty much am,” I say, standing up and stretching my arms over my head.

  “But also one hell of a bounty hunter, from what I’ve heard.”

  I fold my arms and ask, “Please tell me you saw my poster? I’m a freelancer. I need gigs.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s the stories. Tales of some chick with green eyes and a scar on her nose. Heard this one story from an Orc friend of mine about how she comes knocking on people’s doors at the dead of night, and if you hear her sneakers and the sound of her Walkman, then you know for a fact she’s gonna turn you into a payday.”

  I laugh, because how can’t I? “That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. You had to have made that up.”

  Vicky puts her hands in the air. “All truths. They call you the Poppy Knight ‘round these parts.”

  That’s a shitty nickname. “Go on, humor me. Why?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “Beats me. But tonight is when I’ve got to find out why they do.” Suddenly, all the fun and teasing in her voice vanishes. “Those girls you met aren’t in my Party. They’re a bunch of teenagers who needed work, a direction, and came to me for an opportunity. I pay people, I set them up, and they can leave this shit behind if they want to. Some of ‘em end up getting sucked into this mess. Some of them just like mayhem.” She walks a little closer, stopping at arm’s length. “But you know how this line of work goes, and I’m selling you exactly what I sold then: money, lot’s of it, and you can do whatever it is that you want with it, but you listen to my orders and do as I say, and things are gonna go smoothly. If you buck the boat, I’m gonna throw you overboard.”

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  I smile a little and lean on a weak table filled with tools. “I’m a great swimmer, and have been since mom figured it’s best that I either learn how to, or get gobbled up by the same nasties she used to serve us for dinner.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if you want to act tough or not, that’s not my problem,” she says. No nonsense kind of gal. I like that. Kinda gets my blood going. “All I want you to understand is that when I call you for a job, you pick up your phone and we get it done. You’re free to ask questions, but it’s also not my problem if you’re not happy with the answers I give you. End of the day, you’re a Squire to me. Not my Party, and this isn’t a Guild, either.”

  “It’s a gang, then?” I ask her quietly. “A hit squad you can throw at your problems?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “Pretty much, but you know how these streets can be. You tough it out all alone, and you’ll find out pretty quickly how fast your head can end up on someone’s dinner table. We protect each other. We fight for each other. Sometimes, we even die for one another. But dying’s just part of the game, and so is living.”

  Mom would’ve adopted her as fast as she could, no matter how old this chick really is.

  “And what if I refuse?” I ask her. “Gonna hunt me down?”

  “No,” she says. “That’s your problem from then onward.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” she says. “It’ll be a bit harder for you, considering how many people know you. Infamy breeds jealousy which breeds hatred and a lust for your head. Some people want you dead just because of who you are. Other guys just want you dead because it’ll pay ‘em. Did you know that you’ve got a bounty on your head?”

  “Centaurshit,” I say. “Me? I couldn’t harm a housefly, ma’am.”

  “A hundred thousand Drachs,” she says. I blank. Her words hang in the air, swept around the garage by the winds that find their way inside this place. Hundred thousand? Gods, I might as well hand myself in. Does it even work like that? Probably not, but I think it’s worth an effort if it means I get my missing Drachma back somehow. You know what a girl like me can do with ten thousand Drachma? I’d drop everything, all these grudges, even my sword, if it means I get to leave this all behind, kick my feet up, and be sorted for at least a good thirty years if I’m smart. Victoria nods slowly as my face moves from stunned to slack-jawed. “Couldn’t really believe my ears either, and I made someone very powerful very angry when I stole you from him. You made waves when your body hit the black market. Tried to get my hands on you, but I wasn’t very liquid, so I brought the girls out here, pretending to give ‘em some time off, but what I really wanted was you. And since I’m all about the truth, I thought about killing you or handing you in, maybe skinning you and auctioning you off for a massive payday.” She leans closer. “Or we could make shit loads of cash together, and as a bonus, you get people to watch your back almost every single day.”

  I’m about to protest, but the white tattoo I’ve got on the back of my right shoulder reminds me that she’s right in some ways—I just don’t have anyone to do that anymore. One’s in prison and the other one is dead, the last one hasn’t been around since we lost her, and…hell, I kinda need the cash. Joining hunting Parties is great and all, but it sucks when it’s being sponsored by some corporate bell-end who thinks he can make a name for his son and give him some streetcred, just so he can have more hype around him coming into Mageforge. The planning is always shit and the cut is always a fraction of what it should be for the pain we go through keeping a snot-nosed brat alive. Besides, I get more money, it also means I come back home knowing I can buy a new sword and potions.

  Doing that means I can go back to Dogway and kill the fuckers who killed me first.

  And get Jane back, too. That’s also important. We still haven’t finished our quest.

  “Who bought me?” I ask Victoria.

  “Guy called Platinum,” she says. I raise an eyebrow. “Ever heard of Midas before?”

  “Literally who hasn’t?”

  “Now just imagine an even bigger asshole.”

  “Thought that was impossible.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she mutters. “Planning on getting your lick back?”

  “I’m planning on paying him a visit, but only after I do a few more things on my bucket list,” I tell her. “If you’re also wondering if I wanna join your little Not-Party, I think I will, but not forever. I’ve still got my own life.”

  “And I respect someone who’s upfront about that,” she says, nodding. “I’ll warn you, though. Morgan, the girl with the silver hair? She said she’d leave two years ago. She kept telling everyone how she was gonna do one more job and then get out of this mess, because that’s what she’s always wanted. Peace and quiet and a place she can call her own in this wild, wild country.” Vicky smiles and shakes her head, because the sound of rock music has just changed over to older rap music, getting so loud that a few of the other girls yell at her to turn it down. “They grow on you, but people like me and you don’t ever get to know people that well. The ones who do get to know us—”

  “End up not living long enough to tell everyone else,” I say quietly, massaging my shoulder.

  Victoria squeezes my hand. “Just give me a heads up when you want to check out new pastures.”

  “What do you even get out of having me here?” I ask her. “Some rep and more muscle?”

  “That,” Victoria says, “and because of that Knight’s Blessing you’ve got. One hell of a contract, kid.”

  I step back. How did she…? “Don’t know what you’re—”

  “Play dumb, don’t really care,” she says, turning around heading for the door that leads into the house. She stops, hand on the doorknob as she looks at me. “It’ll make a lot of people jealous, so let’s keep it between you and me for now, m’kay? Because I’m here to make sure I’ve got a front row seat to it when things start to kick off. When people start calling, just make sure to rope me in. Mama wants her million-Drachma commission for being the one who looked after you, found you, and trained you when I’m feeling like it. Oh, oh! And a golden house with a pool and a pool house with butlers in sexy little swimming shorts. And if it sounds like I’m putting in an early bid for when the Guilds start looking for you, then that’s exactly right.” She pauses again. “Tell Judy she still owes me ten bucks, and Mortimer needs to finish that joke. Hey, Kacey, do you know what you call an orc with half a brain?”

  “Are you gonna skip over the fact that I don’t know half of what you’re saying right now?”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” she mutters, opening the door. “Well, anyway, time to break a few laws.”