He dropped a bullet casing and launched off it, then landed carefully on the roof near where the shingles sloped past a small attic window, shuttered closed. Quiet though he’dtried to be, the metal lines moved sharply right as he landed—then they stilled. Mostly. They were quivering.
He narrowed his eyes at the window. One of the shutter corners was broken, letting whoever was inside peek out. He could see a metal line leading right to the hole. A part of him felt cold, because that metal was almost certainly a gun pointed at him. Shingles rattled under his feet as he engaged his steel bubble—the subtle Push he’dlearned to use to deflect bullets. It made the nails in the rooftop vibrate as they tried to escape the field.
Vibrating,he thought,like that line ahead of me. That’s a gun in the hands of someone who is trembling.
He wasn’t facing a Set assassin. Carefully, he raised his gun to the side, pointed away from the window.
“I’m a constable,” he said loudly. “I’m here to help.”
Silence. Then finally a voice. Feminine, husky. “You’re here to kill me. Like you killed Tobal.”
“No,” Wax said. “I promise it.” He stepped forward. “I’m looking for the people who killed him. If I were here for another reason, I’dhave shot instead of spoken.”
More silence. Long enough to unnerve him, until finally the shutters swung open, revealing a short woman. She had frizzy grey-black hair and a disheveled appearance—a waistcoat buttoned with a few holes skipped, a long skirt that was rumpled as if it spent most of its life in a heap in a corner. She had dark bags under her eyes and a wan appearance, as if she’dbeen heavier once but had lost weight, like a couch missing some of its stuffing.
“You…” she said, lowering a rifle. “Are you… Dawnshot?”
“That’s me,” he said, relaxing.
She brightened. “You’reJak’sfriend!”
Jak’s friend? Just because that idiot brought up Wax’s name once in a while? He opened his mouth to object, but thought better of it.
“I… know of him,” Wax said. “Look, something is happening in this city. Something very dangerous. I followed the trail to Tobal’s apartment, then here. Please. Did he give you something? Tell you something?”
She leaned out, suspiciously scanning the streets. “Meet me below, at the back.” She pulled the shutters closed, and he joined Marasi and Kim at the back doors as they rattled, numerous locks and chains being undone.
Finally, she pulled the door open. “I don’t normally talk to conners. Ever.”
“’S good advice,” Wayne mumbled through a mouthful of something. He walked up beside Wax and took another bite of what appeared to be grease and maybe some bits of meat wrapped in what might have been bread. Or a very large crepe?
“But since you’re friends of Jak…” she said.
“Sure are,” Wayne said, slapping Wax on the shoulder. “Jak and Wax here adventured together out in the Roughs!”
“I guess, then,” she said, gesturing for them to enter, “you’re notthatkind of constable. You’re theotherkind.”
“Yup,” Wayne said. “We’rethe kind what don’t like uniforms and shoots people when they try to make us sign paperwork.” He took another bite of his wrap.
“What even is that?” Wax asked as Marasi and Kim entered.
“He called it ‘chouta.’ It’s good.”
“It looks disgusting.”
“Aw, mate. With street food, that’s how youknowit’s good.”
The building inside was musty and dark, and had numerous trash bins by the door—as if the woman hadn’t dared leave to empty them. She watched Wax, rifle in hand—though not raised—as if certain he’dturn on her at any moment.
“Is… Jak in the city?” she asked. “Available to help?”
“I… um…” Wax said. “No. He’s on… an adventure.”
“Don’t suppose you can send for him?” she sounded hopeful.
“Afraid not.”
She frowned, eyeing him.