Theo followed the cab this time, keeping to the roofs at a pace that would've had most suffering a heart attack. Even still, his heart hammered loud enough to blot out many of the city's sounds from his ears. The end of the nearest roof approached. The next was two stories higher. He put on a burst of speed, keeping his breathing absolutely silent as his feet crossed the remaining distance. He jumped, clearing it, but only with the help of the blue prism at his belt.

Sweat coated his brow, even despite the evening chill. This wasn't the Bents. It was Weeping Park. The worst district in Chroma. The gang here was a pittance to most others. He didn't even know what its name was, it changed too often to track. Tabby might know. She ran with a few of the more brutal gangs from Crock's Row and beyond. She made it her business to stay informed with a lot more than he bothered with.

Tabby.

His jaw clenched. He shouldn't have done what he did—shouldn't have allowed her to goad him into fucking her. Again. Light. He was being weak.

But it didn't mean anything. Better that she fucked him and didn't get emotionally tied up with anyone on the streets. He was more readily obtainable for her, especially since they met several times a week. Even still, she found the time to slip into Silver Hill. He was fairly certain it was Clarabel that kept her coming back.

He should have killed Clarabel when he discovered Tabby's inclination for her. He'd warned her that he would—that he'd kill anyone she got close to. Except, he couldn't yet prove that she was genuinely taken by her. Not yet.

Part of him didn't want to know if she was, because he'd have to act if he did. He didn't want to see the hate in her eyes. He never wanted to see what he'd been forced to see the last time he'd made his rules clear.

His foot sank and he cursed, immediately flicking his wrist, pulling more blue to regain stability. Most of the flats had crumbling roofs in Weeping Park. It forced him to be more careful than usual.

He buried his emotions deep until he felt absolutely nothing. A trick he'd learned long, long ago from his own master. A trick he'd been forced to use very early.

Beneath him, the carriage clattered farther from view. He chased it, fairly certain of where it was headed. But he needed to see—to confirm for himself as it reached the city wall and stopped.

He cleared the final roof, breathing hard. The guards exchange a few words with the cab drivers. The men standing on the rails of the cab wore the same caps as last time, pulled low over their faces. Moments later, the cab was trundling through the gate and out of the city.

Well, he had his answer. But he also had more questions than before. A few gang members were one thing. They would hardly be missed. But why were they being rounded up in twos and threes and taken out of the city? As far as he knew, there were no initiatives to clean up Chroma's streets. Besides, everyone knew it was the gangs that really kept things running smoothly, district to district. He sighed. Questions for another time.

***

Tabby finished her cup of coffee before fitting a mechanimal sparrow with its golden socket. This was a commission Elias had assigned. She caressed the bird's metal wings before setting about the tedious task of attaching them. It would be fitted with a prism and paired with an owner once finished. Hopefully this one faired better than the one she'd seen with the cat.

The tall buildings around Crock's Row cast the workshop in shadow, so they worked by the glow of gaslight. Her goggles were propped on her forehead as she squinted down at her work. They'd leave marks when she pulled them off—the mark of a machinist. You could always spot them on the streets.

Elias worked near the front, finishing up the nanny that had taken him nearly all week. She heard him shuffling before she saw him. "Shall I cook a spot of supper?"

She glanced up from her magnifying glass. "Oh. Yes. I suppose I'll be eating here tonight."

"No job?"

She hesitated. "Not for the Spectrum, no."

"But you'll be going out later?" She nodded. "Best we have something hearty, then." He shuffled away, taking to the stairs, returning later with food.

She ate from a bowl of stew at her workbench, breaking a small loaf of bread into chunks that turned into soggy bobbing bits. Despite the ban on prism tech, Elias received numerous requests. Prism tech was expensive, but Elias cut superb deals for those in need, sometimes all but giving it away for free. She'd seen him make exchanges, trades for scrap metal from junkyards, recycled equipment, and the like. He had a good heart. He cared about Chroma in a way that humbled her.

Once he retreated to his bedroom, she set about cleaning her workbench. "Cute, isn't it?" She eyed the sparrow before tucking it away.

"I suppose." Nit flew down from their perch. "Not as cute as me, though."

"Nothing, is as cute as you, Nit. And stop being jealous." Her scolding was half-hearted. Nit reacted much the same every time she made a mechanimal, even though she never kept any of them. It was Nit's way of laying claim. A heartless mechanimal had somehow stolen hers.

Upstairs, she gathered her things and crept out into the night. As she made her way to Steiner's townhouse, she went over all the scathing things she wanted to say to him. Maybe if she said them in her head, she wouldn't need to say them out loud.

She passed through Black Badger territory along the way. Nit pointed out the lurking bodies so she was prepared when two of them appeared before her. Youths, not much younger than her. A girl and a boy she didn't recognize. Newbies, then. They blocked her path, expressions hardened. Aftermath of years on and off the streets.

Her hand rested on a dagger strapped to her belt, the only one she carried out in the open. "New to the ranks, hmm?" She kept her voice light.

"Boss's collecting payment for all them passin' through tonight." The boy spit on the pavement and flashed a knife in warning.

"That so..." She eyed the blade. "And if I don't pay?"

"They're not alone." Nit sent her a series of projections. Two more Black Badgers lingered in the alley ahead. Plus the four she'd already passed. They waited, not far behind.

But that wasn't what briefly distracted her.

Farther behind yet, a masked shadow followed in her wake. She watched the image of him creeping along in the darkness. His body was to long and lean to be Midnight's—he hardly tailed her these days anyway. No, this was someone else. A frown pulled at her lips. Was she being watched? Or was this a ploy to eliminate her? Adrenaline surged through her body. She forced her breathing to calm.

The Black Badger held out a hand. "Cough it up," he said, "or you'll have to pay in blood."

"I see." Her jaw tightened. On the opposite side of the street, a couple of stragglers slipped by in a small group, unnoticed. Alone, she was an easier target, but only because they didn't know who she was...what she was. The Spect behind her was closing in. She sighed. "I'm afraid I'm not much for patience tonight." She stepped forward.

Both Black Badgers jumped.

Her movements were lazy. She slipped her dagger free and spun on her heel, slashing the boy's arm first—a warning. He yelped and shrank away, hugging it to his body, completely bewildered by her deft movements. The girl snarled and grabbed her braid, screaming as she pulled away bloody fingers.

"Spikes," she chided, grinning. She grabbed the girl's shoulders before planting a knee in her stomach. She wasn't gentle after that. They were immobilized in less than thirty seconds, on the ground groaning. They'd recover in a day or two.

She gave a final snort and strode away, pausing to gaze into the dark alley ahead. Two bodies shrank into the shadows. "Tell your newbies who I am next time," she warned. "I won't be forgiving again."

They remained silent.

From Nit's vantage point, her pursuer closed in. She reached the next cross street and shot down an alley, picking up her pace. She was good at losing people. She'd done it plenty with Midnight in her early years, once Nit was created. Away from the gas lamps, her ever-present silhouette winked out. She rounded a corner and took off at a sprint down another side street, doubling back around.

"He's in the alley," said Nit, sending her another flash of an image.

Two paths lay before her. Confront him and make a kill, or lose him and allow him to report his tracking failure to the Spectrum. Shadows stirred beneath her skin, writhing in her chest, taunting her, daring her. She knew which choice would make her feel more powerful.

A wicked grin pulled at her lips. A chance to use something she'd been itching to play with for days. She lifted a hand and beckoned, curling her fingers. The light around her surged, syphoning into the prism at her neck. It wanted to be commanded—longed for it. To become shadow and darkness. She was swept into a current of blackness.

All was silent when she came upon the Spect. He paused, listening, then whirled around, his eyes darting, seeking. His face was hidden behind a three quarter mask. Not an apprentice, then. She caught a twinkle of yellow at his belt.

Nit flew by overhead and knocked a crate against the wall.

The Spect lunged toward the noise, knife drawn. She seized the moment. Shedding her shroud of darkness, she plunged her dagger into his back, just below his ribs. It wasn't a respectful way to do it, but she didn't really care.

He flung out an arm, pulling yellow light to his defense. It shot from his belt, collimating into a narrow stream. She didn't have time to react. It went straight for her. Her muscles flinched, steeling herself for the blow, but it never came. She glanced down, wide-eyed. The black prism at her neck drank it up, sucking it from the very air, greedy. A triumphant smile spread across her face. Well, that was unexpected.

"Too bad," she cooed, twisting. Then she ripped her dagger free and lunged, pulling light of her own, bearing down on him as she imparted a death blow.

***

Tabby found Steiner sometime later, pacing his study. "What?" she asked, feigning surprise. "No woman to warm you bed?" She released the light she'd used to sneak in, ignoring the growing headache. The shadows around her faded.

"What the...?!" Steiner spun around, clutching his chest.

"Pleased to see me?" She stalked across the room, keeping him in her sights.

His eyes roved over her. "Yes. But a little warning next time? I didn't give you that thing to use against me." He eyed the prism at her neck. "And I'm practicing for my speech, if you must know. Damn Trads are making another push."

"Oh, yes, your speech."

His gaze narrowed. "What has you in a tizzy?"

"Gee, is it that obvious?" She rounded on him, taking him by the throat, squeezing, enjoying the widening of his eyes. "You had no business going to Elias, Steiner—getting him involved."

"Me?" he choked out. "Why...would I...do that?"

"Oh, please. Don't sell me a dog." She clicked her tongue and released him none to gently. "Elias already admitted it...and gave me a good talking-to."

"Of course he did. Old coot." Steiner rubbed his neck, eying her.

She exhaled, willing her temper to relax. "You're close with him, aren't you?"

"We go back a ways..." He hesitated. "When Elias fled Ipsum, I got him his shop in Crock's Row."

"And how much information has he given you in exchange for that shop?" Her temper flared again. She clamped down on it, burying it deep as Midnight would expect of her.

"About you? Nothing. Most of what I know was obtained through...other means."

"Which were?"

"Nice try, Tabby. Look here, Elias deserves to know what you're getting into. He's a good friend of mine. Truth is, I tried to convince him to go into hiding. What you're doing...it won't go unnoticed or unpunished." He rubbed his neck again, swearing under his breath before going to stand behind his desk.

She studied him. His white shirt was unbuttoned up top, showing a sliver of chest. Her eyes lingered there. "I care about Elias too," she admitted at last. "But he won't flee. He's too stubborn for that."

Steiner chuckled. "I thought as much." He clutched a half-empty drink. His lips turned up when he caught her staring at it. "Would you like some?"

"Sure." She flopped into an armchair, tossing her legs casually over the arm. A click of her fingers shrouded their voices, plunging the room into a green glow.

Steiner glanced up, hesitating before offering her a glass of gin with two cubes from an ice box—a luxury. His gaze held hers. "How did things go with the Spectrum?"

"I thought you'd ask."

"And?"

Revealing her new job went against everything. She wasn't ready for that. Especially when she hadn't so much as mentioned it to Midnight. "Nothing beyond the usual. Nothing new." He arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She shrugged. "I delivered the Prism Pact. The Council refused my offer to eliminate you. I'm compromised, apparently. They saw us dancing together. Dancing." She didn't miss the way his shoulders tightened. "Yes, they'll be coming for you any day now," she added.

He glanced out the window. His throat bobbed. "I suppose protecting me isn't part of our deal?"

"Protection?" She tisked. "No. Never part of it." He opened his mouth but she cut him off. "I never asked you to sign your name on that frigging piece of parchment, Steiner."

Stupid, stupid man.

"I would do it again. Gladly." His dark gaze challenged hers. Idiot.

"I suppose I've got to keep you alive to get my father's name?" She was still tempted to torture it from him. She took a slow sip of her drink. The gin was smooth and piny as it rolled around on her tongue. "Mmm. Fancy drink for a fancy lord," she cooed.

"What's your plan, then?" He came back around and leaned against his desk, slipping his hands into his pockets. She blinked, said nothing. "All right, all right. It was worth a try."

Silence stretched before them. She savored her drink, thinking back over her evening, over her kill. The buzz had already died down. More would come. The Spectrum would keep a close watch on her.

Steiner, giving up, took a seat and shuffled through some papers at his desk. If he was uncomfortable to have her sitting in his study, he gave nothing away. She took as long as she pleased, thinking over his conundrum. "I suppose there is a way," she said at last, "to keep an eye on you. Though I can't guarantee it will keep you alive."

He looked up. "I'm listening."

"Spy bees." The idea thrilled her. She'd used them before, a job here and there, though never in such complicated circumstances. "Each of you on that list will be tracked, probably marked. Your names are already in the book, if I had to gamble. It's only a matter of time. Even if you flee the city, they'll send Spects after you. But bees..." She fell silent, thinking. She couldn't guarantee it would work. But it would be worth trying.

"Spy bees..." he repeated. She explained her plan. Mechanical insects were her forte, though they were a damned pain in the arse to make. With a prism and a drop of blood, they'd find, track, and protect their charges, even in a crowded city like Chroma. "I'll coat their stingers in poison," she finished. "Once they spot danger, they will prick the threat and sound the alarm for their charge. That should be warning enough."

"Hm..." Steiner looked thoughtful. "Seems risky."

"Well," she waved a hand. "Send your comrades into hiding, then."

"No." He was quick to answer. "We can't do that. Parliament meets tomorrow. We need the vote. If we don't push, the Trads will take advantage of every absence to overpower our efforts." She nodded. "How soon can you have them ready?"

"Hmm..." She tapped her chin. "Tomorrow, maybe. If I start tonight. But I'll need blood."

He nodded. "Let me worry about that. I'll gather them together tomorrow evening. Can you come by after the House of Reps session? Dinner, perhaps?"

"If that's what you need. You might even see me at Parliament tomorrow, if you're lucky." She gave him a wink. She was planning to attend, regardless.

"All the better for me."

She stretched, adjusting her position. His study was cozy. The crackling fire, books lining the walls, the scent of cigars and vanilla. She could get used to comforts like this. While she made plenty, it was locked away in multiple bank accounts. She'd never allowed herself to live lavishly because she never called any place home long enough to do so, except Elias's loft, and that wasn't exactly a place for luxury. But she didn't need luxury to be happy, because she would never be happy. Not while she was a slave to the Spectrum.

"We're settled, then?" He lifted his eyebrows.

"We're settled."

"Good. Then shall we get started on our debauchery?"

"Oh, I like how you think." A grin pulled at her lips.

His eyes darkened, roving over her figure, over the way her clothing hugged her curves. She was well aware of the way men looked at her—and some women, too. She lifted her drink in mock salute, earning a grunt. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. A little fun was harmless.

He went to a hidden panel along his wall and fiddled with the combination code. Nit watched on from their hidden perch in the room. She didn't bother stepping into Nit's eyesight, so she couldn't see the contents as the door swung open, even though she was aware of the numbers he used. She stayed seated, the epitome of relaxed, and finished her expensive gin before helping herself to another glass without permission.

"These are all the names I've obtained over the years," Steiner said, shutting the panel and giving the combination a spin. He stretched a roll of parchment across the coffee table, weighted on both ends with paperweights. They sat side by side, pouring over it.

It was a family tree, of sorts. Ghost's name was circled at the top, connected by seven lines. Those names were listed in circles too, and some of them were accompanied by real names. A few of these then connected with other names—past and present apprentices.

She read them aloud. "Beast, Deadlock, Flint, Sin, Rampage, Reaper, and Waste." She knew them well—and hated them all. Her gaze glanced over the details that accompanied. This included real names for some. "Four out of seven? Impressive." Though, she was less impressed that there was nothing next to Reaper's.

"I'm counting on them to provide the remaining names. Though—" He hesitated. "Deadlock might prove difficult."

"Why?" She frowned.

"Out of the seven, he's been...challenging to track." A slight hesitation. "And the youngest."

"The youngest?" She chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering. "I thought Reaper was the youngest to earn a seat."

"Hmm. He'd want people to think that. I believe Reaper is thirty-nine now? So that would've made him..."

"Thirty-seven," she finished. "He got his full mask two years ago."

"Ah." Steiner bent forward and noted this detail on the parchment.

"How old was Deadlock, then?"

"I believe—and this is just speculative—that he was thirty when they gave him a full mask."

"Thirty?!" Her jaw dropped. Midnight was thirty-six and even he didn't have one.

"Impressive, isn't it?" There was something in Steiner's voice. Awe? Respect? Obsession? It was hard to tell.

It didn't sit well. "Impressive, to be sure," she said.

"Ghost, of course, has been my most elusive study. Nearly impossible. Harder than Deadlock. I know absolutely nothing about him."

"True to his namesake," she mused, rubbing her fingers on her chin.

"One of them will know," he said. "They must. Surely."

"I suppose you still won't tell me how you learned all of this?" Each time she considered her gut feelings, she thought about the blade she'd shoved between his ribs. No Spect would've allowed that.

"Through years and years of study," he answered.

She snorted. Her eyes returned to the parchment. "I don't know much about them. But there are little things I've picked up," she offered. "Simple details, really. Nothing like this." She told him about the body language each of the Council of Masks displayed during her brief reports.

He was intrigued, wrote everything down. While he scratched away, she studied him. The way he hunched over the parchment. The bits of his hair that curled around his ears. Curiosity got the better of her. "How old are you?" The question was out before she could stop it.

His muscles tightened. He finished writing first, then turned to her. "Thirty-five. Why?"

"You...aren't married?"

"So?" A gruff chuckle slipped from his lips. "Interested in making an offer? I wasn't aware Spects were permitted attachments of the marital kind."

"They aren't."

"The Spectrum won't be around forever, Tabby. Not if we have any say in the matter." He fell silent before adding, "I enjoy my freedom a little too much, perhaps, as you've seen. But you'd know all about that kind of freedom, wouldn't you?" She shrugged, uninterested in discussing her sex life. He took the hint. "What do you know about them?" he asked, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Ernist Cochran is a Trad," she said, looking at his name on the list. "You'd know him from your seat in parliament."

"Indeed," he said.

"And Daunte Saunders. I don't know much. Successful merchant, I believe? Hmm. Seth Kour..." She wracked her brains. "Isn't he a manufactory owner?"

"He owns several along the Taewae in East End."

"Ah, that's right." She snapped her fingers, recalling that bit of information.

"And Chester Bates?" he asked.

She worried at her bottom lip. His eyes darted directly there and she stopped, releasing it. "His name rings a bell. But I don't know."

"Bates heads up the king's royal guard."

"Light!" She barked a laugh. "I'd forgotten. How convenient."

"Convenient, indeed. Which means he might be the most difficult to get our hands on."

"My hands," she corrected, lifting her brows. "Let's be realistic here. Your hands aren't good for much beyond unlacing corsets."

His lips twitched. "Fair enough."

She fell quiet, thinking. She couldn't simply kill these targets. She still needed the names of Deadlock, Reaper, and Waste. There was only one way to get that sort of information.

"You really think they'll crack?" she asked. "Spects are trained to withstand torture. They're the best at it. They would die before betraying their religion and the regime that holds them down."

"There's only so much pain the human body can take."

"Humans. Yes. But...are we human?" She arched a brow.

"It's all we've got." He shrugged. "You'll have to be brutal."

She ground her teeth, thinking of how much easier this would be if they had loved ones to weaken them, to use against them and make them talk. It worked on her usual targets easily enough. For a Spect, it was as dangerous as death. She hadn't always understood why. Even when Midnight taught her the hard way, she still believed that as long as the Spect was careful, no one else need know. But it was impossible to be perfectly careful. Secrets existed to be discovered. The thought of others discovering her weakness for Elias terrified her. Even knowing that Midnight knew about Elias, that he suspected she was close to him, left her fearful.

"At least I fully I understand now why Spects form no attachments."

"Indeed." Steiner looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped.

"Well, I have spy bees to attend to." And other things, which he didn't need to know about. She didn't give him the chance to waffle over her swift retreat. Instead, she snapped her fingers, removing the green glow from the walls, and took her leave.