Shockingly, both Hyla and Warcry acted professional throughout the interviews. They were practiced enough at the whole process that neither of them let anything slip about why Hyla was on Selk instead of finishing Fight Month on Ku-Noctred, even though the bots smelled blood in the water when they saw her.

  But when they started asking whose baby Hyla was holding and if it was the same baby that had been with Warcry during the attack on the Park of the Tranquil Eye and our subsequent trip downtown, Warcry gave me the cut signal. I cleared out the bots and fans while he ducked into the locker room to take the sports wrap off, shower, and change.

  Stragglers were still hanging around when he came back out, but I pushed them back long enough for him, Kest, and Hyla to bolt out the door. When I caught up to them, they already had a rickshaw waiting to take us to the hotel.

  “You dragged my baby into the middle of a gang melee?” Hyla said as we pulled away from the kokugikan. “Father of the Universal Year you are, Thompson.”

  “The Jianjiao delivered Bodhi to me in a basket,” Warcry growled, stabbing a thumb into his chest. “Unless you’re slavering to tell me why that lot had him and what they were holding him over your head for, shut your gob.”

  On the rickshaw seat next to me, Kest raised her eyebrows, then stuck her nose in some schematics.

  Probably smart. I took the hint and stared anywhere but at the arguing couple across from us.

  It was magenta tide, early evening. The pink-orange glow of a sunset faded from one side of the cloudy dome while purplish night crept up the opposite side. The speakers’ rain soundtrack was thunder-heavy tonight. Maybe there was a big storm blowing in on the surface.

  Something flickered up in the row of gargoyles lining the midlevel of one domescraper. I twisted in my seat, trying to home in on it, but whatever it was was gone.

  “Pearl City doesn’t, like, import birds, does it?”

  Warcry and Hyla cut off in the middle of sniping at each other.

  “What’re you on about, grav?”

  I shrugged. “Like, for looks or nature or something. Do they bring birds in or have some kind of weird undersea bird that lives down here in the domes?”

  “Selk has no native bird species and their Wildlife Council is very strict about stopping any non-native species from being brought in,” Kest said, looking up from her SignalSong. “Why?”

  “Maybe somebody smuggled a pigeon in. I thought I saw something flapping around one of the buildings.”

  As I was saying it, another flutter caught my eye.

  “There.” I scoured the ornate false front of one of the smaller buildings as we passed. “Up on top of that theater.”

  They looked to where I was pointing, but it was too late. Whatever had been there was gone.

  “There was something,” I said.

  “Probably some delinquents messing about where they ain’t supposed to be,” Warcry said. “Musta ducked it when you spotted ’em.”

  That would explain the movement on the theater roof, but unless they could climb like monkeys and disappear like Sushi, punk kids didn’t explain the movement on the domescraper’s gargoyles. There wasn’t anywhere to hide up there.

  Before I could argue, my HUD went off.

  The message was from Unknown. When I opened it, there was a timer counting down in the corner.

  Crew assembled. Hit first den tonight.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  That had to be Donnie Four-Eyes. I showed it to Kest just before the countdown hit zero and the message auto-deleted.

  She nodded, but her eye-lace thinned out.

  I shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Until it’s not,” she said. “And when that happens, it’ll be Kestu-level not fine.”

  Tension must send off some kind of signal, because now Warcry and Hyla were looking our way. No pretending they didn’t notice and politely butting out for those two.

  “What’s this now?” Hyla asked, her cat eyes narrowing when she smiled. “Trouble in the Selken-Death cultivator paradise?”

  “No,” Kest and I said at the same time.

  I looked at Warcry. “It’s my side gig.”

  “Moonlighting again?” The ginger leaned back and hooked an arm around Hyla’s seat, and told her, “The grav’s getting in all the extra work he can to break through this bottleneck.”

  She shoved him off. “Keep them off me or I’ll break them off.”

  “You cool with staying in tonight?” I asked Warcry.

  “Weren’t planning on anything else. After this bleedin’ day, Bodhi and I need an early night. Don’t we, ya little git?”

  “Dream again,” Hyla scoffed. “Bodhi’s staying with me.”

  “Is he, yeah? And where’d you put up, Hangman? In a penthouse suite with your current man?”

  Something flickered past an awning and across a bank of fifth-floor windows. I bolted to my feet, swaying a little as our rickshaw took a corner, and drew Wrathblade.

  Whispers filled the evening light.

  I wish I’d had a chance to make up with my mom.

  I didn’t do anything to you, Death cultivator. I never even saw your face.

  I was going to get got eventually, but I always figured someone better would take me out. Someone who deserved to kill me.

  “Find whatever that was,” I ordered Wrathblade. “If it’s a threat, kill it. If it’s not, drag it back here alive.”

  The glowing uchigatana darted off into the sky. It skirted along the building fronts and searched the rooves where I’d pointed. I held onto the back of my seat and turned so I could watch its progress.

  Even though it was way out of range, I could still hear the dead like they were hissing in my ear.

  It’s coming for you one of these days, Death cultivator. What goes around, comes around.

  Maybe I deserved it, but like that? What you did to me was overkill, plain and simple.

  Why? Won’t you just tell me why you killed me? That’s all I want to know, is why.

  “Hake?” Kest’s voice was just barely audible over all the angry dead who wanted my attention.

  She, Warcry, and Hyla were staring at me.

  “There’s something up there,” I insisted.

  Just then, Wrathblade swooped back down to me empty-handed. Or, empty-bladed.

  I sheathed the spectral sword. It disappeared, cutting off the whispers.

  “I’m pretty sure there was, anyway,” I said, sitting down again.

  The only one in the rickshaw not looking at me like I was nuts was Bodhi, who had dozed off on Hyla’s lap.

  Kest pulled up something on her HUD. “My scanner isn’t showing any living creatures on the buildings. Just the people inside. Maybe they’re what you saw?”

  I shook my head. “It was outside the windows.”

  “Getting jumped by those Body Cult lads got to you,” Warcry said. “That’s what it is. You ought to stay in tonight, grav. Get some rest.”

  “It’s not—” I rubbed my forehead. “Forget it.”

  If Rali were there, he could have told me whether he sensed anything. Then I would know for sure if I was losing it. He’d always been able to feel the disturbance in the air currents or Spirit or whatever when the angel of death showed up or when Sushi followed us.

  Hyla leaned over to Warcry and whispered something. The only words I caught were, “mad Death cultivator.”

  “Oi, that’s me lad,” he snarled.

  “Strong judgment, as always,” she muttered, rolling her cat eyes.

  I slumped back in my seat and messed around on my Winchester like I couldn’t hear them, scrolling through random junk, but I wasn’t actually reading any of it. I was testing how far out I could push Dead Reckoning before it got too weak and fell apart. I could make it to the buildings lining the street, but not much higher than the first floor.

  Whatever was following us was staying high and out of Dead Reckoning’s range, almost like they knew how far I could stretch it. But I hadn’t told anybody but Kest and Rali about Dead Reckoning. Unless they had told someone, there was no way anyone else knew how to avoid it.

  Fat Selken swore to kill Death cultivator, Hungry Ghost said. Perhaps he has returned and is using his knowledge of Death cultivator’s abilities and limitations to stalk his prey.

  My kneejerk reaction was to say that Rali wouldn’t do that, but then I remembered finding out from Biggerstaff that Rali been sneaking unseen up to the surface to watch me kill ferals when he was supposedly in seclusion.

  But Wrathblade hadn’t found anyone on the buildings.

  Each night, Hungry Ghost hears Death cultivator tell Wrathblade to search and destroy all but his love, Burning Hatred cultivator, flying fish, and fat Selken. Wrathblade may believe fat Selken is an ally and exception to orders.

  I shook my head. Even Rali can’t keep Sushi quiet. She would have been down there and yelling first thing.

  Unless, knowing this, fat Selken disposed of flying fish.

  Wrong again, I told the ancient khan. When Rali comes after me, it’ll be face to face. I might never have read any old sword legends, but I knew Rali well enough to know that. Nothing else would fit the epic showdown.