Page 47 of Gunslinger Girl

The costume had a simple, striking elegance: a lavender blouse with a darker half corset laced over it, and fitted pants of a supple silvery gray material. Beside the mannequin wearing the outfit sat a pair of high black boots that matched the black leather of Pity’s new gun belt.

“I…” Stunned wonder gripped her. “I love it!” She hesitantly ran the tips of her fingers over the purple silk, afraid the slightest touch would mar it. “But how is it going to look on me?”

“Only one way to find out.” He gestured to a folding screen set in one corner.

Pity went behind it and shrugged out of her clothes. Acutely aware of her bareness and the thin partition that separated her and Max, she dressed quickly. The costume hugged every curve and angle of her body perfectly. And yet she couldn’t help but feel like an imposter, as if it couldn’t possibly be for her.

“Does it fit?” Max called.

She tightened her gun belt. “Yes.”

“And are you going to come out sometime tonight?”

Her flush turned to one of embarrassment. “I’m considering my options.”

“If you don’t want to let one person see you,” he said, “how are you going to let a thousand?”

“Exactly.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and stepped out. “I’m not afraid. I’m just… not used to wearing costumes.”

Max grinned and set upon her immediately, fussing with the laces of the corset and adjusting the lay of her holsters on her hips. Pity went as rigid as the mannequin.

“The hem of the pants needs to come up a bit, but otherwise…” When he unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, so that more of her neck showed, a shiver raced from her throat to the bottoms of her heels. “There. Perfect. How does it feel?”

Pity took a welcome few steps away, drew her guns, and spun. “I’ll have to stand a bit straighter than I’m used to, but… I can work with this.”

“Excellent,” said Max. “Because Halcyon has already scheduled the next show, a week from now.” He paused. “And he wants you to debut.”

CHAPTER 15

The evening finally arrived and, with it, dismay. Pity was to go on after Scylla. From the staging area, she could hear the hoots and cries of the audience, feel the sensual charge in the air. A promise of beauty and the threat of death were Scylla’s trade—how could she follow that? She leaned against a wall, drawing one tight breath after another.

There had been no final, full rehearsal of her act. Halcyon had said he didn’t believe in such things. Still, Eva had worked Pity for extra hours each day, meeting her early, meeting her late, in whatever moments the Theatre had to spare.

Stare into the crowd. Make them think you’re looking at them.

Move your hips. Don’t be stiff.

Smile, but not too much.

The directions had come as rapid-fire as Pity’s shots.

As the days raced forward, each night brought a fresh onset of worry. Why did I ever think I could do this? she thought, staring into the darkness of her bedroom. I’m gonna fail and Selene is gonna put me out, and when that happens…

Her ruminations would go no further. The fear of Cessation was no longer a fear of the unknown. The few weeks she had spent in the city had taught her it wasn’t weapons or strength that kept you safe in the world; it was your associations. Your family, your friends, your gang—survival was about who stood beside you.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—return to the commune. Her mother and Finn were dead.

If Pity failed in the Theatre, she’d be left standing alone.

“Relax,” said Eva. “You need to be calm. Focused.”

“I’m trying.” Each time her heart began to slow, another round of cheers would sound, and the anxiety would come flooding back.

“You want something to help you relax?” Luster pulled out her silver tin.