‘“It was educational,” she smirked. “I learned the game there. Shadow-work and rip-runs. Maggot traps and honeypots.” She chewed a fingernail for a moment, her voice dropping a little. “There was a pickpocket in Narrowman’s mob. Smart. Silver-quick with a knife. She used to dress as a boy too, but I spotted her right away. She wore an old top hat and halfcoat, like gentry.” Dior smiled faintly. “Called herself Toff.
‘“I didn’t know girls could love girls. I just knew I loved being with her. And one night, she and I were sitting on the warehouse roof talking and laughing, and she touched my cheek and told me I was beautiful. And then she kissed me.”
‘Dior shook her head, trailing fingertips along her lips.
‘“Nobody ever kissed me like that before. I didn’t know you could get kissed like that. It was like … like my whole body was powder and she was flame. One of those kisses you’re going to compare to every kiss that comes afterwards, you know?”
‘I smiled softly. “Oui.”
‘“But I could see a shadow on her.” Dior glanced at me. “Same as I see on you. Toff used to have nightmares. And sometimes she’d wake up crying. I wanted to help, to make it better. I’d always ask her what was wrong, but it took almost a year before she told me. About a man. A priest. Named Merciér.” Dior spat the name like poison. “Toast of the city, he was. Guardian of the poor. Bishop of Lashaame. He made his bones running the city orphanage. Toff used to stay there, before she shacked in with the Narrowman.”
‘Dior snarled a little, running her thumb over the scars across her palms.
‘“Turned out the toast of the city liked little girls. And when Toff was younger, he …”
‘I shook my head and snarled. “Fucking bastard.”
‘“I was so furious for her. I said we should stomp the prick. Just … snuff him out like a fucking candle. But even after everything that happened to her, Toff still believed. In God. In the Testaments the Narrowman used to read us. She used to drag me to mass every prièdi. Killing a priest was a sin, she said. It was God’s place to judge him. Not ours.
‘“But I convinced her we could roll Merciér, at least. Man of the cloth. Fat cat. Toff deserved some payback after what that fucker did. So we broke into his estate one night while he was at a private service. We were halfway through cleaning the place out when the bastard came home. Forgot his spectacles, the stupid pig. We could’ve run. Made it out clean. But when Toff laid eyes on him … she just … snapped.
‘“Like I said, she was silver-quick with that knife of hers. And she drew it and just went at him. Screaming. Stabbing. She stuck him a dozen times before he fell. When she was done, she left the knife buried to the handle in his privates.”
‘Dior’s voice was a whisper now, edged with tears.
‘“I was so scared. All my front, all my talk of being dangerous … fuck …” She stared down at those stained hands again. “You know how much blood there is inside a person?”
‘I nodded, my voice soft. “I’ve a notion.”
‘“I tried to drag her away. Get the hell out of there. But Toff was staring at the blood on her hands. And while she stood there shaking and crying, Merciér dragged himself to his feet and put that shiv right in her chest. Once. Twice. I tried to take the knife away, and he cut my hands up pretty bad before the blood loss got him. But when he fell, he stayed down, and I grabbed Toff and ran, dragging her back to the Narrowman’s. And I put her on the floor and our friends all came out, and Toff … she was just lying there trying to breathe and there was so much fucking blood and I just wanted to stop it. So I pressed my hands over the holes, screaming for someone, anyone, to help me.”
‘“Your palms were cut up,” I murmured, looking to her scars. “Your blood …”
‘Dior nodded. “That’s when I learned what I could do. There in a place I called home, surrounded by people I thought of as famille, saving the life of the girl I thought I loved. And they all stared, pale as ghosts, as Toff’s wounds closed over and she sat up and blinked at me with those eyes I used to drown inside.”
‘Dior shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘“And they called me a w-witch. All of them. Even … even her. Toff looked at me like I was the one who’d hurt her, not saved her. I tried to take her hand, tell her I loved her, and she flinched away like I burned her. Like she was … scared of me.”
‘I nodded, remembering the terror in Ilsa’s eyes that night I learned what I was.
‘“I know what that feels like.”
‘Dior wiped the tears from her cheeks. “They handed me over to the magistrate. I got blamed for Merciér’s murder. All Lashaame was baying for my blood. They hung me in one of those fucking gibbets for people to spit on, throw shit at. The church sent word to the Inquisition, and those twin bitches arrived to burn the Bishop Killer. The heretic. The witch.”
‘She shrugged, chewing a ragged nail.
‘“Then Sister Chloe and the others showed up. Busted me out of my cage in the dead of night and we hightailed it, hard and fast as we could. All the shite I’d been through, and I still let myself think it might be aright with them. Sister Chloe saved my life. Bel was sweet as honey. And Saoirse, she …” Dior shook her head. “But the same thing happens. Again and again. All the people I care about leave, or they get taken away. And like an idiot, I keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting it to be different. I don’t know why I do that. I don’t know why I don’t just learn my lesson.”
‘“You’ve a good heart, girl. That’s why.”
‘“For all the good it does me. I’ve dragged my arse halfway across the empire over this prophecy shite, and for what? People who’d lock me in a gibbet or burn me at the stake? I should just be like you. Do what you need. Take what you want. Fuck the rest.”
‘“You don’t want to be like me, Dior.”
‘“Why not? You’re doing aright. You’ve a wife. A daughter. A few people who love you. But the rest of the world? Just … fuck it all.”
‘I hung my head then. Seeing what she saw in me.
‘“My wife used to tell me hearts only bruise. They never break. I don’t know if I believe that any more. I know this world is cruel. That saints and sinners suffer one and the same. I know every time you give a piece of yourself to someone, you risk them breaking it. I know there are some wounds that never truly heal, and sometimes all that’s left of people are their scars. I know time eats us all alive.”
‘Dior watched me rub the ink across my knuckles, toy with my troth ring.
‘“I’ve seen the worst this world can conjure, girl. I’ve seen people kept in cages and farmed like cattle to slake the thirsts of monsters spat straight from hell’s belly. I’ve seen armies of faithful men slaughtered like hogs while God stood by and did nothing. I’ve seen parents eat their children. And I can’t say it gets better. I can’t tell you I believe like Chloe did – that you’re going to be the one to fix all this. I won’t lie to you like that.”