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“First time Ciro and me got arrested. Aless was so mad.”

Circe’s melodic laughter fills the darkened space inside the garage. I flick on the light, noting the key box on the wall, a locker by the table at the back. Must be a stash spot for some of my gear. Crazy that it’s still here.

“Wow,” she hums, scanning the jet-black Bugatti parked in the middle of the space.

“That’s what I think every time I look at you.”

Her eyes light up, holding my wavering gaze as she sidles up to me, kissing me deeply. It’s slow, delicious. And a distraction. She swipes the keys out of my hand.

“Hey!”

“You are too drunk to drive.”

“And you’re not? Deceiver!” Sliding into the supple leather seat satisfies something deep inside me.

“I took a few shots.” She turns the engine, both of us nodding appreciatively as the super car purrs to life. “Enough to remember a few things myself.”

“Speaking of remembering…I know where to go.”

22

CIRCE

The sprawling, massive heights of New York City reach up around me in every direction, midmorning sun dancing off the towering windows. Reminds me of so many other locales across the globe we’ve hit over the past almost year.

I don’t mind big cities. Especially New York City. Something magical about it.

Even the shitty gritty aspects.

Nightlife in Europe is more my speed, though. Call me old fashioned, or romantic. I like the Old World.

The ruthless assassin with the heart of gold?

Please.

A grin spreads across my lips as I walk toward my destination. Knowing Artemis is alive makes the commentary less morose. More like missing a fond friend who is just far away.

Checking my notebook again, I scan the page for a list I jotted down several months ago in a moment of lucidity. Anything I’ve remembered I’ve committed to these pages, carefully hiding the precious pages whenever we returned to Ananke.

New York Lyra messenger drop spot. Newsstand in Queens.

The first symbol gives me a starting point. There’s always a map for Lyra’s traveling abroad. Secret meeting places. Stashed gear bags.

Following the sigils takes me on a roundabout route.

Wish Ero was with me. But it’s probably best if I do this by myself. Mostly because he’s still sleeping and hungover as fuck. Secondly because he discovered the burned out remains of his family home last night when we drove out to Brooklyn.

We dug around a little. Nothing to find.

I know it bothered him. So I let him rest while I track down a lead of my own.

Of course, hoping to find an assassin informant five years after the whole organization got burned is a long shot. The sigil is still hidden above the electric sign. Only now, it’s some gaudy-as-fuck bridal and prom dress shop.

Great.

My phone buzzes.

Where you at?