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“Luck,” she whispered rigidly.

“And your real name?”

“I don’t remember.”

Taly felt a pang of empathy from a wound that still ached even after all this time. She knew what it was like to not remember, to have gaps in your life that were just… missing.

“Well,Luck,” she said, slipping a thin blade back up her sleeve before fastening the cuff. “As much as I appreciate the hospitality, I’m afraid I really must be going.”

Sure, she could’ve needled the girl for more information—the full who, what, where, why—but some gut instinct was screaming at her toget out nowbefore whoever had hired this murderous little psychopath showed up. Nothing about this situation felt right. Not the girl, not the finely laid table for two,and not her dining partner, who still hadn’t moved. The whole scene presented like a deranged child’s tea party.

Taly glanced at the table and the man slumped there. She pressed two fingers to his neck, unsurprised when she didn’t find a pulse. “What’s his story, by the way?”

Luck remained silent, glowering through the rage and shame that burned her face.

“Okay, whatever.” It wasn’t worth sticking around to find out. Taly finished strapping on her gear. “Don’t follow me. If I catch even a whiff of your scent, I’ll shoot you in the kneecaps.”

Luck snorted. “Bullshit. You’re too soft.”

“Follow me, and we’ll find out,” was all Taly said, hauling on her pack as she strode for the door, Calcifer trotting just behind.

“You may go if you like,” a new voice drawled.

Taly stopped.

“This meeting, however, stands to benefit us both. If you’ll allow it.” Masculine and calm, the words slid over her like oil.

Calcifer gave a soft snarl, but Taly signaled for him to hold.

Slowly, she turned. Luck met her eyes, smirking.

Because beside the girl, the man was sitting up now. And he was smiling.

Chapter 7

His skin was already graying, and there was a certain…slacknessto his face made more noticeable when he talked—the muscles too relaxed in death to properly form words. Yet he spoke remarkably well. There was a slight slur, but underneath it, Taly detected traces of a polished, if somewhat old-fashioned accent.

“Well, well, well…” the corpse drawled with unsettling brightness. “Finally,we get a chance to—”

In one swift, fluid movement, Taly raised her gun and fired. A blast rocked the tavern. The bullet slammed into the corpse’s chest, sending him flying back mid-sentence, chair tipping.

His body thudded against the tavern floor.

Luck stared at her, eyes rounded, smirk frozen.

“Damn shades,” Taly muttered. A faint hum lingered in the air as her pistol cooled, the runes along the barrel fading from vivid blue to a soft silver. “They never get less creepy.”

A hand slammed onto the table hard enough to rattle candlesticks.

“What the—”

Taly fired two more shots in quick succession. The first caught the corpse in the shoulder as he struggled to push himself up. The force wrenched him back, opening the way for the second.

It barreled into his chest—into the shadow crystal powering his unholy reanimation.

His body toppled for the final time.

Taly raised her pistol in salute. “It’s been weird, kid. Remember—kneecaps.”