He slid through the gate and found himself in the tiny room where his doorway was hidden. He unbolted the door and stepped outside. The dim purple sky overhead made The City appear to be nothing more than pools of shadows divided by the flickering lights that were mounted on poles or walls. This particular corridor had no such lights.

In the center of The City, the Night Market glowed with pulsing lights, a beacon to anyone in city limits. The carnival evolved into an even deadlier version of itself in the wee hours, so much so that the denizens of The City had assigned it a separate identity. While even the ruling class might visit the Carnival of Souls, the Night Market was the domain of those who were without constraint or inhibition. Women of the highest caste and many of the women of the middle castes avoided the Night Market; those few who dared wander the Night Market were without recourse if they had unwanted encounters. Dallying in the shadows was always dangerous, but doing so in the Night Market was especially deadly. Several years ago, Marchosias had declared that what happened at the market was “unable to be held for judgment.” That ruling meant that neither murder nor kidnapping was forbidden after hours.

If an elimination job was low paying, the market was the place to do it—or at the least where the body was dumped. Kaleb refused to accept any job that meant using the market’s lawlessness as an assist. It made him more expensive to hire, but it also told the buyer that he was good enough to finish a job without crutches.

The dream was that he’d be able to stop taking black-mask jobs. He’d had enough of blood. What he wanted tonight was to lose himself in numbness for a few hours. Unfortunately, Kaleb was far from fit to venture into the Night Market in search of indulgences. The thought of something narcotic didn’t even lure him in. Being challenged was ever a danger, and tonight, he wasn’t sure he could handle a fight. At best, he’d survive but reveal how injured he was. Tonight, Kaleb felt like he’d been beaten, stabbed, and thrown down the street. Of course, between the fights and this evening’s encounter with the Watcher, he had been, but the combined effect of the abuse had hit him with what had to be more than the weight of all of the individual pains.

By the time he reached the mouth of his cave, he had all but breathed a sigh of relief, so seeing Aya standing in the dark waiting for him made him wonder which god he’d pissed off. He was certainly in no shape to fight her—not tonight, possibly not for at least a week. He knew that tomorrow he’d feel even worse, although he wasn’t quite sure what worse could entail just then.

“Do we have to do this tonight?” He couldn’t muster intimidating, but he tried for at least sardonic. “How about I give you a few free hits before I retaliate if we can postpone this?”

“What were you doing out when you are in this shape?” She came over and half supported his weight with one of her shoulders under his arm and her arm around his waist. “If one of the others saw you, you’d be dead.”

He snorted. “The only one who’s ballsy enough to come here is you, and unless this is an elaborate ruse of some sort that I’m too tired to follow, you”—he turned his head to look at her as they paused at his threshold—“seem to be helping me.”

“I am,” she said. “My word: I mean you no harm this night.”

“Then come into my home for this night, Aya.”

At the words that allowed her entry, they stepped into the cave, and less than a heartbeat later, Zevi launched himself across the room.

“Stop! I invited her in by choice, not under duress.” Kaleb took a faltering step away from Aya and was promptly lifted into the air by his now-growling friend.

With a snarl that made Kaleb both proud and nervous, Zevi carried him toward the bed he should’ve been in hours ago. It was embarrassing to let one of his opponents see him in this state, but there was no help for it. After Zevi lowered Kaleb to the bed, he paused, sniffed, and looked at Kaleb with confusion clear in his expression.

Kaleb held up a hand. “I’ll explain once Aya goes.” He pulled his arm out of Zevi’s reach. “Can you add something to the fire? I’m getting feverish.”

Anger vied with worry in Zevi’s expression. Muttering to himself, he went over and stoked the fire, and then returned with one of the blankets from his bed. He sniffed Kaleb again as he spread the blanket over him. “Someone was against your skin, but you didn’t have sex.”

“I didn’t.”

“Were you rejected?” Zevi’s gaze narrowed, and he ran over to Aya.

Before Kaleb could speak, Zevi had bent down and pressed his nose to her crotch.

“No!” Kaleb yelled. His exclamation was simultaneous with Zevi’s yip of pain and the sound of crashing.

“I’m not up on cur customs, but I’m pretty sure that putting your nose there is not something you do with outsiders.” Aya had her foot on Zevi’s chest. “Don’t do that again.”

Instead of replying to her words, Zevi stared up at her and asked, “Did you kill Verie?”

Aya pressed her lips together and looked from one cur to the other.

“Zevi, I told you I’d explain everything later,” Kaleb called. “Aya is our guest. No more. When I came home, she was outside, and instead of killing me, she helped me inside. She wasn’t with me when I was out.”

Aya stared down at Zevi, who was looking at her like she was his new favorite snack.

“Kaleb was right,” Zevi said. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“I’d rather not break your ribs right now” was all she said.

Zevi turned his head and looked at Kaleb. “She smells nervous, not guilty.” Then he put his hand on Aya’s foot as if to keep it there and stared up at her again. “I’m glad you didn’t kill Verie.”

“I never said that,” she muttered as she looked across the room at Kaleb. “Is he safe to release?”

“He is.” Kaleb sighed and then winced at the sharp pain in his chest. “Zev, if you can stop provoking her, I need willow bark and some of those bandages you boiled earlier.”

At that, Zevi rolled out from under Aya’s foot and was at the fire in almost the same instant. Aya stared at him with her mouth agape. “He’s incredibly fast. If he wanted to get away, he could’ve avoided me.”

“Yeah.” Kaleb watched the realization settle on Aya. She studied Zevi as he moved from his medicinal boxes to the fire and back to the bed with the speed that made it seem that he was in several places at once. Kaleb still marveled at him sometimes, but seeing that dawning clarity on Aya’s face made him remember his first few years around Zevi. Quietly, Kaleb said, “I used to get dizzy watching him.”

When Aya looked at him, he continued, “I’ve never seen anyone who can move like that.”

“If he wanted to fight—”

“Kaleb says no,” Zevi interrupted as he passed her. He went from blurringly fast to slower than even humans moved as he pulled the covers back and removed Kaleb’s shirt. “I attract too much attention when I forget to stay slow.”

Silently, Aya walked over to the bed. She couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at Zevi or Kaleb. The bruises on his chest were remarkable in their colors and shapes, and Kaleb could see as well as feel the proof of his very obviously broken rib. On the journey home, a fragment of bone had pierced his skin.

“Do you need help?” Aya asked.

Zevi looked at Kaleb, who nodded. Then Zevi held out a metal box.

“We need to adjust the bones first,” Zevi told her. He didn’t look at Kaleb. “Do you want to press or assist?”

She looked at Kaleb in confusion.

He said mildly, “She’ll want to assist. I’m guessing she’s never adjusted a cur.”

Zevi frowned, then he shrugged, opened the box, and pulled out a handful of heated, oiled bandages. “Hold these while I—” Then he slammed the box down on Kaleb’s ribs.