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The woman continued for several yards before she stopped, finally realizing she was no longer being pursued. She turned around, hugged her chest, and looked about the area. Her lips were trembling, either from the chill or because she was talking to herself, the words far too quiet for even a hellseher to pick up on from this distance.

Lace and Tanner caught up to him, feet splashing through puddles as they slowed at his side. The headlights of passing cars on a road not far from where they stood lit up the area with pulses of white.

“Umm, Max?” Lace said, catching her breath beside him. “You mind if I try? No offense, but she might be more likely to listen to someone like me and not a…”

“Not a what?” Max prompted.

Lace threw her hands in the air. “A big macho tough-guy chasing her down a dark street while shouting in a language she doesn’t speak.”

He blinked. “Oh.” He felt like an idiot for not thinking of that. No wonder she’d ran from him. “Yeah, sure. You try.”

Lace assessed the woman at a distance, deciding what to do, how to go about calming the stranger. “Here goes nothing.”

She approached the woman with caution, speaking softly as she moved, testing to see if there were any words in their language that the stranger might be familiar with.

Max waited, Tanner observing at his side. Neither of them made a sound. Not even when Lace managed to get close enough that barely two feet stood between her and the stranger. The woman appeared to be more trusting of Lace than she was of Max, though her eyes continued to flick to the blade strapped to Lace’s thigh—one of the only visible weapons on that bodysuit.

It must’ve been nearly ten minutes before Lace began making her way back, the woman trailing behind her. Those crystal-blue eyes flicked from Max to Tanner and back again. Now that she was closer, Max couldn’t help but notice the color of her nailbeds—a blue tone, dark as a sapphire near the cuticle.

Was he dreaming? Maybe this wasn’t real, and he was currently passed out on the floor of Club Ethereal, lost in this strange dream.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lace said. “Maybe we should take her to a hospital.”

The woman backed up, shouting hysterically in Ilevyn. Her eyes were bolted wide with fear, and she was gripping her upper arms so hard that her nails were nearly puncturing her skin.

“Okay, okay,” Lace consoled her, hands in the air. “No hospitals.”

“No…hospital,” the stranger repeated. She quieted after a moment, though she continued to shake her head, lips quavering.

Max’s eyes narrowed. Even her lips were tinged blue. He might’ve thought it the work of a glamour or makeup but…no. He didn’t believe it was either.

Slowly, Lace lowered her hands.

Max shared a look with Tanner. “Let’s get her in the back,” Max said.

They made their way to the SUV. Lace got in the back with the girl, who scanned the interior of the vehicle like a child seeing something new for the first time.

“Maybe we should call Darien,” Lace suggested as Max got in the driver’s seat.

His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror; the girl was cowering against her door, scuffed knees tucked up to her chest. She was shivering so hard, her teeth were clacking together. At least those were white. He felt like an idiot for even checking.

Max glanced at his watch—and cursed. “We’re already late.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, callouses scraping his cheeks. “We’ll take her to Hell’s Gate for now. Blindfold her if we need to.” He turned in his seat to look at Lace in search of agreement.

After thinking about it, she gave a faint nod. “Alright. I’ll blindfold her once we’re nearing the district.”

“Darien’s going to flip,” Tanner grumbled. He buckled his seatbelt, the snap loud in the quiet of the SUV. “And I’m going to tell him it was all your guys’ idea.”

“Thanks, Atlas,” Max said flatly.

The hacker, face grave, merely winked behind rain-speckled glasses.

Lace’s phone rang just as Max pushed the gearshift into drive. She checked the caller identification. “Crap,” she mumbled, the screen lighting up her face in the darkness of the SUV. “It’s Darien.”

“Don’t tell him about the girl.” Max started driving, tires splashing through puddles that sprayed the vehicle with mud. “Just let him know we’re on our way. We’ll deal with…whatever this is when we get there.”

Lace took the call mere seconds before it could go to voicemail. Her conversation with Darien was short, consisting of not much more than what Max had instructed her to say. Not a word was uttered about the girl with the blue nailbeds. The blue lips. The blue eyes. The not-blue teeth, thank the gods.

This was…it was messed up, that’s what it was.