Page 29

“We’re New Yorkers. We can brave a troll or two to take the subway.”

“Dublin spoiled me.”

“That is a fact,” Kierse said as they trotted down the stairs.

Dublin proper was in drastic contrast to a post–Monster War New York City.

During the war, New York had been sliced up into territories by the monsters and the human gangs.

The vampire elite held the Upper East Side, the werewolves Chelsea, and the mer Central Park.

There were wraiths doing business in Midtown, and a few disputed territories like Times Square that were just now starting to bring in wide-eyed tourists again.

Humans occupied much of downtown with the Roulettes on the Lower East Side and the Jackals in Nolita, while the Italian mafia still ruled in Little Italy.

Traveling around the landscape was like navigating a minefield. Each subway entrance was controlled by a different gang and collected fees beyond what the city already acquired through the tills.

Kierse reached the bottom of the stairs to find a troll blocking the entrance.

He wasn’t as big as the one she’d met at Versailles, but his head still grazed the ceiling as he glared at them through his small, bulbous eyes.

He was shirtless in tattered green pants that flexed around his tree-trunk legs.

“Payment,” he grunted.

Gen gulped. While she’d refused to be held back by her chronic eye condition, she hadn’t used the subway as much as Kierse and Ethan. The trolls rightfully intimidated her, and she preferred to walk if she could.

Kierse stepped between Gen and the troll. The damn things weren’t intelligent, but they could sniff out fear like a bloodhound.

“Here,” Kierse said, throwing two twenties at the thing.

It studied the toll and then relented, taking a massive step backward and shaking the entire entrance. Gen glanced worriedly up at the ceiling as dust rained down on them.

Kierse grasped her hand and tugged her forward into the gloom of the subway system.

They quickly swiped their MetroCards and pushed through the turnstile, heading to the platform.

When they got there, they found a handful of beleaguered people clustered opposite a particularly ferocious-looking panther.

“Panther shifter,” Gen whispered.

Kierse grinned. It was so good to be home. She’d almost forgotten what a melting pot New York was.

When the 2 train finally rolled into the station, the panther snarled at the people before pouncing inside. A guy screamed and dashed out, following the rest of the passengers into a separate car.

Gen took an available seat, and Kierse stood over her, holding the overhead rail and watching the rest of the passengers with wary apprehension.

Her glamour was carefully in place. Not that any of these people would likely understand what her ears indicated.

Her natural suspicion had only intensified with the knowledge that someone had tried to kill off everyone like her.

It was good that she trusted so few people.

“We’ll change trains at Times Square,” Kierse said.

“Yeah,” Gen said, sucking on her teeth. “I still hate it there.”

“I know. If the theaters are all reopening, though, it can’t be as bad.”

“Just hard not to think about it like it was during the war,” she whispered.

Times Square, for all its capitalistic splendor, had been carved up and taken over by rival monsters during the war.

They still killed enough humans, even post-Treaty, that almost everyone avoided it if they could, but before it was known-disputed monster territory, many humans had died.

The aftereffects of those deaths still made people shudder.

When they got off at Times Square, both girls stopped and stared in surprise.

The only word Kierse could think of to describe it was bustling .

It looked like the pre-war Times Square station, with tourists braving the heat to see the city as summer approached and monsters jostling for space the same as the humans. It was shockingly…normal.

Kierse and Gen exchanged a glance before joining the crowd to change platforms. Kierse followed Gen to the RW line and waited there until the train arrived.

The RW train let them off at Prince in the Lower East, where they passed a troll that worked for the Roulettes.

When they were out of the subway, they both took a deep breath of relief.

It had been nice on the Upper West by Graves’s brownstone and confusing around the tourist trap areas, but this was home.

There were fewer monsters on the street and more humans hurrying to their jobs.

Roulettes manned the corners outside local bodegas.

They passed Bowery and crossed over to Delancey, and Kierse’s heart constricted for one beat.

Torra, her ex-girlfriend, had lived there.

She’d gotten caught up with the vampire, King Louis, and sold to a vampire brothel in Third Floor.

Kierse had thought she was dead for a year after their breakup but had discovered her situation while doing reconnaissance on the spear and had made sure Torra walked free at the end of the mission.

“You think she’s somewhere thriving?” Kierse asked, still lost in her memories.

Gen squeezed her hand, following her train of thought without missing a beat. “You saved her. I’m sure she got the hell out of the city.”

Kierse squeezed back. “You’re right. That was all she wanted.”

Gen looped arms with her, and Kierse tried to put the past out of her mind. She wanted to live in this moment where anything was possible. Her mouth watered as they passed her favorite bagel and lox place.

“Wish we had time for a detour,” Kierse said.

“As if the food isn’t free and plentiful at the brownstone,” Gen said.

“Free and plentiful it is, but even Isolde can’t match New York bagels.”

Gen laughed, and they continued forward, just two girls almost carefree on the city streets. Neither the gangs nor the crumbling brick buildings nor the hurried steps of the locals could dampen her spirit.

She’d had so little time for carefree growing up.

Even when she’d picked pockets on the Upper East Side and indulged in her favorite bakery’s black-and-white cookies and cinnamon babka, she’d always had to keep both eyes forward.

She’d eat her treats sitting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It wasn’t open to the public any longer, but she had gotten to go inside when Kingston had visited Graves.

She wondered if it was still closed off now that things seemed to be turning around.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed those days, staring up at the statue of Coraline LeMort, the vampire who had sparked a war she never would have agreed to, which they’d installed out front of the museum.

She’d asked Graves once if he’d met her, and he’d confessed to hearing her speak—a good orator, but young, with the eyes of an idealist. She had wanted unity and only through so much loss, her own death included, had New York begun to accomplish what she had first set out to do.

They turned the next corner and smiled at the sight of Colette’s brothel. Kierse had left the attic behind when she and Gen had moved to Dublin, but it would always be home.

A Roulette was stationed at the door, watching stragglers leave the premises. Early mornings were for walks of shame and for the workers to rest. An all-night establishment meant the girls, guys, and gays worked third shift and slept most of the day.

They nodded at the Roulette as they passed.

He gaped at the pair of them. It’d been months since they’d been around, and likely news was going to run rampant that they were home.

Gen tugged open the door and stepped inside.

The front room was clouded with smoke and led to a long walkway that branched out to various sitting rooms. The silence was comforting as they continued down the hall toward Colette’s bedchambers.

Gen raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she could.

Standing there, in all her glory, was Madame Colette.

Her curvy figure was on full display in a long, flowing robe made of a dark, rusty-pink velvet with delicate lace trim.

Her red hair was piled into a twist at the back of her head, and her makeup was still a vivid mask of her aging features.

Yet somehow, she was still the most beautiful woman Kierse had ever seen.

“Girls,” she said with a quirk of her lips. “What a surprise.”

“Hello, Mother,” Gen said with a shake of her head.

“Genesis,” Colette said, wrapping her arms around Gen. She extended another arm to Kierse. “You, too.”

Kierse laughed and stepped in for a hug. “Such affection. I might think you missed us.”

“Just her,” Colette said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “We all know you’re a brat.”

Kierse winked at her. “I missed you, too.”

Colette ushered them into a sitting room. “Are you back for good? Or are you going to jet off to another unknown destination?”

“For now,” Gen said.

“Will you be working for me again?” she asked, her eyes lingering on her daughter. Gen had worked a tent at the street markets as her alter ego, Prophet Genesis, where she read tarot and used the crystal ball. It brought in steady money.

Gen shook her head. “I think that time is behind me.”

“I thought as much.” She waved her hand at Kierse. “Pour me a drink.”

Kierse went to the cabinet and procured Colette’s favorite brandy. This had been a staple of their late-night adventures. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

She brought over the liquor, and Colette smiled at her approvingly. “And where are you staying in the city?”

Kierse and Gen exchanged a glance.

“Ah,” Colette said with another upward tug of her lips. “With him .”

“Yes,” Gen squeaked. “He offered us rooms.”

“In exchange for?” Her eyes lifted to Kierse as if she could see straight through her.