Let him just be hungover, or stoned on too much dodgy weed.

I know he isn't. But please.

I sidled around the counter. My chin jerked stiffly, reluctant to drop and let me see. I forced my gaze downward, the breath squeezing from my throat.

Ugh. Sticky pool of blood. Red spriggan in Batman boxer shorts, cartoons that read BAM BAM! and BIF BIF! and ZOT ZOT! Ragged hole in his throat, eyes wide and vacant. Scrawny limbs twisted rigid, muddy green stain on his chest still sticky.

My nose fizzed hot, and tears misted my vision blue. Worse than I'd hoped. Better than I'd feared. At least they hadn't torn his hair out or ripped his claws off or cracked his toes apart one by one just for fun. They'd just slashed his throat, and he'd bled to death on stinking carpet like an insect.

My throat ached. Poor Quang. I squatted and fingered his eyelids closed one by one, masking his dulled black eyes. I hadn't known him well. I didn't buy him drinks or hang out with him or call him my friend. But anger and sorrow still squeezed tight around my heart. Rotten fae-murdering p.r.i.c.ks.

I fisted my eyes to dry them. Coulda been rival gangsters, of course. Some DiLuca moron with a grudge. Quang's att.i.tude p.i.s.sed people off far and wide, and anyone who collected the sort of money Quang handled from day to day made themselves a target.

All of which made no never mind to the vicious a.s.shole who owned Quang, the ubiquitous Sonny Valenti. If his self-righteous goons showed up and saw me here, my sweet fairy b.u.t.t would be chewing gum.

And I still hadn't found the mirror. Here's hoping whoever killed Quang hadn't taken it.

Urgency wriggled, slick with slimy guilt. This was all my fault. If I hadn't brought the squidgy here, Quang might still live.

I straightened, determined, my teary eyes still stinging. Yeah. And if I'd never been born, custard companies would be poorer. There was nothing I could do now except find the d.a.m.n mirror and get out before Sonny realized Quang wasn't answering his phone and sent Cousin Fabian here to stuff my wings down my throat.

I dragged my gaze from Quang's pitiful corpse and surveyed the shadowy shelves with a shaky sigh. "Come out, squidgy, wherever you are. I won't hurt you."

But for once, when I needed so much to hear its nasty voice, the horrid metal thing was silent.

My vertebrae crackled, nerves pulling my muscles out of whack. Typical. Guess I'll hafta look on my own. Typical. Guess I'll hafta look on my own.

I flexed uneasy wings and knelt on the carpet beside the dark green slime of spriggan lifeblood to sort through the mess.

Ebony crouches panting in the dark and watches Ice rummage through junk, her form partly hidden by the counter. Beside him, Quang's safe crackles, iron ringing in his metal-sensitive ears. Ebony can't see inside, not such a small s.p.a.ce enclosed by metal. He was about to crack it open when she turned up, and now he can't move lest she notice him.

But part of him wants her to notice him, to see him and smile, that berry blush staining her cheeks. He watches, strange peace warming his heart. She's so pretty and innocent. Fruity hair tumbles across her brow, unheeded, tangled ends dragging on her bare shoulders. She's concentrating, a drop of water hanging from her nose, her pretty silken wings folded back. Hunting for the mirror.

She won't find it.

Satisfaction tickles his nose, and he suppresses a sneeze, his eyes stinging. He's already searched through everything, gla.s.s and wires and bent metal and pretty things that any other day he might want to keep. The spiteful thing isn't here, unless it's in the safe. Indigo teased her desire for him to find it-a cruel and heart-shy beast, that Indigo-nasty Indigo tortured her to find the mirror, and now in a flush of silvery rage Ebony knows why.

Indigo wants Ebony gone.

Wants rid of him, and foolish enough to think the mirror might oblige. Wants everything boring and lifeless, without reckless impulse to light the way. Wants pretty Ice all to himself, wants to trick and tempt and possess her and sc.r.a.pe away with his rough iron will all the chaos that makes her so beautiful.

Wants to leave her lost and shivering, alone in her prison of fear.

Ebony grits metal teeth, disgust sharp on his tongue like poison. If she were his, he'd not ruin her so. He'd keep her, wild and challenged and mirrorcrazy, and if she must bleed to death in his arms to preserve that perfection, then so be it.

Fury boils his blood molten, and he makes up his mind. She's his, Ebony's, in all her insane beauty, and Indigo can't have her. Can't ruin her. Not ever.

And here she comes. Copper-tainted love swells Ebony's rusty heart, tempering his anger to sweetness, and he looks down, checking himself for mess. Blood on his shirt again, thick and green and already drying, and awkwardness p.r.i.c.kles his palms with sweat. An accident. He didn't mean it. The spriggan just caught him by surprise. But black is such a lying color. She'll never see, not if he distracts her properly. He rises, sweaty palms leaving a dark smear on his jeans.

I whirled, my wings jerking tight, and sighed. "Christ, you scared the p.i.s.s outta me." whirled, my wings jerking tight, and sighed. "Christ, you scared the p.i.s.s outta me."

Indigo wiped dark hands on his jeans, wings glittering in a shaft of golden sun. "Sorry. Didn't mean it. You okay?"

My pulse didn't quiet, and I flexed my shoulders, jittery, trying to calm my flight impulse. How long had he been hiding there, watching me? "What you doing here?"

He fiddled with the bangle on his right wrist, rocking on his toes with a silvery flutter. Awkward, like last night. "Same as you. Came for the mirror. Found him." He nodded at Quang's body, and guilt sharpened my blood that I hadn't covered the poor guy up.

Then again, neither had Indigo.

Self-consciousness numbed my skin, and I fingered the pretty diamond bracelet he'd welded for me. "Did you know him?"

"A little bit. Sold him a few trinkets. Peeled his hands off my a.s.s a few times. I'll miss him."

"Me, too." The image of little red Quang grabbing Indigo's a.s.s-on his tiptoes, presumably-frothed hysterical giggles up in my throat, and I swallowed them before I made an idiot of myself. My wing membranes tingled, and it wasn't just because Indigo smelled fantastic, that warm mix of skin and iron that never failed to make me ache.

Unease p.r.i.c.kled my fingerpads. No doubt he'd gotten his price from Kane. What did Indigo even want the mirror for? He'd hinted last night that he knew something. He wasn't being honest with me.

Not that I'd come clean about what I wanted it for either. Too embarra.s.sing.

Silence lengthened. I squirmed, not knowing what to say. Warmth had flowered between us last night. Today was a whole new game.

Indigo folded his wings down along his back with a self-conscious shrug. His gaze slid about, not sticking to anything in particular. He wrapped a black lock of hair around one nervous claw, and his wings flitted loose again. "Look. Um. About last night."

Metal-fragrant breeze ruffled my damp hair. Warm memory whispered in my blood, and again his strange softness cast a seductive velvet spell, tempting me to respond in kind, tell him it was okay he'd lied to me, that he'd used my desire for him to get what he wanted.

But my heart still tripped, my breath too heavy in my lungs to laugh, and I was too angry that he'd caught me off guard yet again to be nice to him. "That is so typical of a boy, you know that? You've hardly said a civil word to me for months, and now we're standing here with a dead body five seconds after you just scared the tripe out of me, and you want to talk about last night?"

He shrugged, weirdly gentle. "Don't you?"

My cheeks sizzled. No, I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to do it again. Brush my cheek on his and slide my fingers into his hair and pull his mouth down to mine like I should've done last night. Stretch my naked body beneath his and purr, like I'd done in my dream, make love to him in the smell of hot metal and sea breeze, a warm updraft caressing my skin, his fingers tangled in my hair. Forget about this d.a.m.n mirror, and live.

I eyed Quang's corpse, disquiet rubbery in my belly. "Look, this ain't the time-"

"I'm sorry, that's all. About your firefae friend. I shouldn't have hissed at him. If you two are . . . I mean, I guess it's probably better . . ."

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" Before he could say, It's probably better that nothing happened. It's probably better that nothing happened. I'd be expected to agree, and then it'd be over between us forever and ever-and I didn't want that. But I did want it, too. On-again, off-again Indigo wore me out. I couldn't trust him. I didn't know what I wanted from him anymore. I'd be expected to agree, and then it'd be over between us forever and ever-and I didn't want that. But I did want it, too. On-again, off-again Indigo wore me out. I couldn't trust him. I didn't know what I wanted from him anymore.

"Okay." He lifted his hands as if to ward me off, and his silvery eyes glimmered golden, so brief, I almost missed it before he looked away.

Dismay crushed my heart tight. If I didn't know better, I'd think I hurt him.

I shifted, awkward, and searched for something else to talk about. "How come you hid when I came in?"

He blinked at me, confused. He darted his gaze left and right, at the walls, the skylight, the floor, and checked the clock, like he'd forgotten where he was or how long he'd been here. And then he looked at me, curiosity blossoming his pupils black, like he'd forgotten I was there. "Sorry, what?"

I swallowed, my awkwardness swelling to unease. "When I came in. What, you trying to scare me?"

He snorted, and the old bulletproof Indigo was back. "Wouldn't waste my time. Tried the safe yet?"

Warm dismay flooded my cheeks. A twinge of sympathy, a glimmer of softness so I think I've got a chance, and then he smashes me flat again. Conversation over. Inscrutable, infuriating boy. Frustration itched my skin. "What?"

"The safe. I've checked the rest. It's not here." Slow, simple. Like I was some stupid child.

My wings bristled, and I plonked one hand on my hip, damp hair spilling over my shoulder. "And I should take your word for that why?"

"Think I'd still be standing around in a pool of spriggan blood if I'd found it?"

Good point. I glanced again at Quang's body and swallowed. "Who d'ya think did it? Gangsters? Boyfriend?"

"Walls of gla.s.s, Ice. I'd look a little closer to home if I were you."

My throat stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

An arrogant Indigo shrug, so different from the shy one a minute ago. "Mirror one day, dead the next. Doesn't seem like rocket science to me."

Guilt razored my skin, and I hugged myself, exposed. "You saying it's my fault?"

"Are you?" He flicked me a dark question, just long enough to make me squirm before he resumed surveying the room, his stormy gaze sharp and short. "Bit tidy in here, isn't it?"

Bristle. "Tidy? You kidding? There's c.r.a.p everywhere."

"Yeah, but where Quang left it, last time I looked. If you were hunting something you were desperate enough to kill for . . ."

"I'd make more of a mess." Curiosity needled my palms. Right, as usual. Nothing overturned, nothing broken. "Maybe it wasn't thieves after all."

Indigo squatted by the body, wings folding lengthwise like a locust's, and fingered Quang's dead hand, which still sported its flashy golden ring. "Yeah. Or Quang handed it over before they killed him."

"Or they already knew where to look," I added, inspired. "Maybe a gang puke, someone who hangs out here."

Or, someone who could find the mirror without looking. Someone who could close their eyes and search the air for a little metal ball.

Someone like Indigo.

Blood had clotted on Quang's scrawny forearm, and Indigo slid his middle finger through it, delicate, watching the mess smear and collect on his claw. Absent, like his mind wandered elsewhere. Abruptly he looked up, his silvery mouth tight. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

I shivered. "Never mind."

He brushed past me, his wing edge tingling silvery dust onto my shoulder. "Look, it's still whole."

Dumb, I followed, around the counter into Quang's dim office. Plastic chair piled with computer parts, flies crawling on an empty pizza box, an electric motor in dusty pieces on the cracked laminate bench. Oil, spriggan sweat, and beer twisted the air sour. I wrinkled my nose. "Eww."

Indigo poked at a rusty gray shelf near the floor, copper claws clattering on steel. Floor to ceiling with boxes, old televisions, broken computer monitors, and DVD players.

I peered over his shoulder. A scratched gray safe bolted to the floor, bronze combination rings holding fast, the numbers worn off by greasy spriggan fingers.

He tapped at the mechanism, sounding its thickness. "Want a go?"

My belly warmed, and my fingers itched to try, even as I shivered at the thought of actually working in front of him. "Can I? You mean that?"

"h.e.l.l, no. Think we've got all day?"

My heart crushed flat. I bit my lip, yet another flush wetting my cheeks. He flashed me a little grin, and now I didn't know if he meant it or not.

I sniffed, hurt, trying to pretend I wasn't watching like a hunting vampire, already straining my ears for the telltale clinks of tumblers. "Fine. Be like that. I'm not so shabby, you know. See if you can impress me. I'm ready."

"I'm sure you are." He clamped his left hand over the door's edge, and the metal sizzled and melted.

He hissed and yanked back his hand, his bangle jangling. Molten iron dripped on the carpet in a lick of blue flame, and the door fell open, its ragged edge smoking red.

I gaped. I couldn't do that. Blaze probably couldn't even do that, not in such a hurry. "That's cheating!"

"Sue me." He tugged the door aside, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his arms, and gave the contents the barest glance. "It's not here. We should be leaving."

I barely heard him. Prismed light dazzled me, twinkling like tumbling stars, and my pulse stuttered alive. A tangle of bright jewels, still fragrant with my sweat and a faint ashen stink. My sparklies. Ooh, yes. Mine.

I thrust my hand inside, and diamonds and silver tumbled over my wrist, mixing with my new bracelet and shining in vestiges of sun. My heart flooded with pleasure. One was lovely, but more was better. And Quang didn't need them anymore. "These are mine, remember? You said they suited me. Which was a real nice thing to say, by the way, if you don't mind . . ."

But Indigo stood and sniffed the air, ignoring me. "Iron blades downstairs. Steel earrings. Something round and tinny with a screw. Someone's coming."

He tugged me up by my elbow with sharp blue fingers. I yelped and stumbled, clutching my diamonds to my chest. "But what about the mirror? We haven't looked-"

"It's made of iron and lead, Ice. I know what it smells like. Trust me. It's not here." He sniffed again, a dark sheen of sweat on his cheek, and his eyes burned red. "Not tin. Bra.s.s. That's Joey DiLuca's cane. Time to go."

"Wh-" Now I heard it, too: sly footsteps creaking on the stairwell. Fear hacked at my nerves. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "DiLuca? What's he doing here?"

"Same as you. Same as me. Time to go."

"But what-?"

"The mirror's Kane's. Joey wants it. Simple enough for you?"

"But we don't have it!"

"Think he'll care?"

My blood curdled with dismay. That d.a.m.n mirror again. If it really was Snakeboy DiLuca slithering up those stairs, he had cast-iron b.a.l.l.s even coming to this neighborhood, where we all paid the Valentis protection.

And Joey didn't exactly have a reputation for patience. Which meant he'd be in a fine wing-ripping mood when he found the mirror missing.

My stomach shriveled. Not good.

Indigo skipped over the counter with a sharp wingbeat and landed in a crouch on the floor. Dust danced around him, streaked with sunlight from the thin chicken-wired skylights above. "Any exit back there? I don't taste anything."

At last my muscles jerked into action. I stuffed my diamonds in my bag and flung my head about, hair flying in my face, looking for a loft, a trapdoor, a crack-any way we could get out.

No windows. Shelves, unbroken carpet, brick pillars and a heating pipe, ceiling fading into darkness. I scrabbled at the edge of a patch of linoleum and uncovered only concrete. My heart jittered. "Nope, there's nothing."

But he'd already launched himself at the ceiling with a slam of silvery wings. He gripped the window's edge with steely fingers and slammed his palm into the ragged chicken wire. Zap. Static flickered. The wire glowed, dripping, burning to nothing under his fingers, and he smashed his elbow through the skylight with a grimace, showering the floor with dusty gla.s.s shards and a few drops of silvery blood. "Come on."