ELLIS: So?
REN: So she’s not worried who sees her face. Because she’s not planning to leave witnesses.
Something flashed in Cress’s gaze like the flick of a switchblade.
Light carved through the shadows. Cress hooked a foot around Blythe’s ankle just as Blythe swung her knife. I fired low, a disabling shot, but Cress anticipated and juked. She barreled at me and I braced for it, which was just what she wanted, because I felt her wrench the gun from my hand.
I couldn’t shoot at point-blank range. Not her.
Not a woman.
So instead I let her disarm me and thought: This is the way I die.
She dropped the muzzle in line with my heart.
Then pivoted neatly and fired at the bed.
Crito heaved himself away, and Cress kept firing, a sound like giant needles puncturing the air. Feathers jetted up from the quilt. On the white wall above us burst a Rorschach rose painted in blood.
I flung myself at Cress, smothered her against the bed. Her body beneath me was toned and tight, but small. Easy to overpower when I gave myself free rein. Blythe darted in to disarm her.
“You damned idiot,” Cress said. “I’m—”
I pressed her face into the mattress as Blythe cuffed her with a zip tie.
“Shut up,” I said, “or I’ll gag you, too.”
When I released her she shot me a cold glower but didn’t speak.
Quiet permeated the room. Only the redness and rain were alive, falling.
ELLIS: Oh my god. Is he—
Crito flopped onto his back, groaning.
BLYTHE: Much as it pains me to be thankful for this, he survived.
Heavy pounding on the front door. Now a man’s voice said, “Open up. I know there’s a lady in there with you, asshole. What have you done to her?”
“And the shit just got deeper,” Blythe said.
Cress smiled. “Could you have fucked this up any more thoroughly?”
“What did I tell you about talking?”
She kept smiling till I fished the roll of duct tape from my field pack.
“Listen,” she said. “We’re on the same side.”
“Why is your mouth still moving?”
“You don’t want to do this.” I stepped closer, and she blurted, “The Little Wolf sent me, you oaf. I’m plan B.”
Blythe and I stared at each other, startled.
ELLIS: Oh. Huh. I . . . hmm.
“If the Wolf really sent you,” I said, “you’d know this is a nonlethal takedown.”
“And if you could hold your bloody rum,” she spat back, “you’d know I’m here to do the job you couldn’t. She sent me to knock the stuffing out of him and record it. We put that on the Internet, it’ll scare his lackeys shitless.”
Footsteps thumped in the hall. More voices.
“There’s no time for this,” Cressida said. “Untie me.”
“No.” I hauled her to her feet. “You’re coming with us.”
When I tugged, she resisted.
“You can’t leave this unfinished,” she said.
We both looked at the bleeding man.
I handed Cress off to Blythe. Knelt on the bed, took Crito’s jaw in my hand. From the hall, someone called, “The police are on their way.”
Weight hurled at the door. They were trying to break it down.
“Wake up, fuckboy.” I shook Crito till his eyes opened. On his shoulder was a wet red welt, fragrantly sweet. Burnt goose down and gunpowder tinged the air bitter. “Look at me.”
His eyes focused.
In the darkness, with his face bloodied and taped and distorted by fear, I hadn’t realized what I’d been seeing.
I knew him.
My body went cold. We stared at each other and in horror I waited for him to recognize me, but his fear remained solid, unwavering.
My mask, my voice. The stubble shading my jaw.
Of course. He wouldn’t know me like this.
I felt Cress’s gaze and swallowed. “You got lucky tonight.” The words grated from my throat, but in my mind I heard my old self narrating in her thin, fluting voice. “Time to make some life changes, buddy. You know what I’m talking about. If I ever see your face again, I’ll put a bullet in it. Clear?”
Another shake, for good measure. He groaned. It might’ve been yes.
A splintery crash from the front room.
“Cane, now,” Blythe called from the window.
Gauzy light drifted through the glass, setting the raindrops aglitter like sequins. I ducked beneath the sash as the door banged open behind me.
We fled down the fire escape, skidding on slick iron. Reached the alley just as police sirens sounded. Red and blue lights raced over rain-bright asphalt like jags of electricity. We dragged Cress between us and she fought and we stumbled and it kept coming back in flashes: The sting of her bullets piercing the air. Plumes of pale fire. The wet sound of blood slapping the wall.
She tried to kill him.
A man I knew. One I’d have killed to forget.