Page 67 of Gunslinger Girl

“Ain’t that true. When this city is good, it’s very good, but when it’s bad…” The bounty hunter put out a hand. “Siena Bond.”

It was as rough as unsanded wood. “I’m—”

“Serendipity Jones.”

“It’s Pity when I’m not performing.”

“Pity, then.” Siena gazed out at the dusk-drowned city. “From what I’ve heard, your show is something to be seen. And those are some nice guns you have, too. Theatre fixed you right up.”

“It wasn’t the Theatre,” Pity replied. “They’re mine.”

Siena reached for a nearby vine and plucked a flower. “They must have cost a pretty penny.”

A vague itch of discomfort ran over her skin. Not a single direct question had been asked, and yet Pity felt as if she were being interrogated. “They were my mother’s.”

One by one, Siena picked the petals from the flower and let the evening breeze take them. “She give them to you?”

“She would have,” Pity said, “if she hadn’t died first.”

Siena stopped plucking. “Hmm.” One petal left, she let the ruined stem fall to the grass. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to open any old wounds. Lucky for Selene you know how to use them, though. Olivia tell you about the porter?”

“What porter?”

“The one they found hanged in his room this morning. Used to be an Old Red, though it seems he opted to side with his old boss instead of his new one.”

That answers the question of who helped the assassins into Casimir. “Sounds like he made the wrong decision.”

Siena chuckled. “Made the right one at the end, though. The last thing you want to do is betray Selene and then have her get her hands on you.” She looked at Pity askance. “But you know how that shakes out, don’t you?”

Beeks’s screams echoed in Pity’s memory. “I do.” But there was enough weighing on her mind without dwelling on the Finales, too. “You’re a bounty hunter, right?” she asked, changing the subject. “Are you looking for someone in Cessation?”

Siena’s stony eyes glinted at her, a gaze to set strong men fleeing. There was something disconcerting about the woman. She didn’t have the dominating authority of Selene or the dreadful iciness of Beau. Whatever it was about her was more… raw.

“Maybe,” Siena replied carefully. “Though I’m considering another offer at the moment.”

Maybe? Pity took a step backward, sensing a significance masked by the simplicity of the word. Something hinted at. Her stomach tightened.

No, she thought. It wasn’t possible.

The better offer was undoubtedly Daneko—so far he had eluded capture, and there were plenty of rumblings about what Selene might pay to see him dragged in dead.

And how much more to bring him in alive.

“’Course,” Siena continued, “I’m a patient sort of woman, so I suppose any business I have here could wait.” She hooked her thumbs through her belt. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Pity Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied mechanically, breathless.

As Siena strolled toward the garden’s exit, Pity’s blood turned cold. It wasn’t possible, she thought again. Her father didn’t care so much that he’d send a bounty hunter looking for her.

Would he?

CHAPTER 22

“Again!” she ordered.

A volley of targets launched. Pity picked them off, one by one, reloaded, and took out the next set. Bits of ceramic and glass twinkled in the air and crunched beneath her boots.

Draw. Shoot. Reload.