The car burned so hot, steel turned liquid and melted like yellow butter.

Raw red Dust burns hotter than anything else in nature, if you know how to manipulate it just right. It's a controlled substance, harder to get ahold of than any weapon, any drug made by humankind. So naturally, once our job was done, Blake handed me a whole extra case of it as compensation.

Standing far enough away to be safe but still feel the heat, I opened up my suitcase to rifle through the contents. Each vial held a shimmer of raw flames, contained only by glass. It was like gold dust threaded through red sand.

"Dragon."

A large hand grabbed me by the back of the neck. It managed to be threatening and soothing at the same time, a promise. All it would take is a little extra pressure. But after a moment of letting me sweat, Blake just squeezed once, fingers trailing fondly over damp skin before retreating. "I owe you one."

Right. When would I ever need a favor from the shadow of the White Fang? A dark day, yeah, a bad, dark day indeed.

If I hadn't spent my whole life dealing with monsters I might have run. Let that shadow hang over my head until I was out of options.

Of course I won't pretend I wasn't tempted to do exactly that. But I also had a terrible inability to leave well enough alone. "Sure, sure. And then when I come collect, I'll owe you again. And then you'll owe me, ad nauseum. Is that how this works?"

"No."

Tearing my eyes away from the burning wreckage, I glanced over my shoulder at the faunus.

Blake was pulling their coat off, the only concession to that steel-melting heat. "I don't enjoy games like that."

Really? No games of cat and mouse?

I dared. I almost dared. Then I remembered I liked my ears attached to my skull. But then, I couldn't completely resist. "Wow. I absolutely, one hundred percent believe you."

I'd never heard Blake laugh before.

"Once I repay my debt to you, we're finished." Blake said. "You're not like most humans, but I still don't want to work with your kind more than necessary."

Huntresses are more animal than human to begin with, but Blake would think that a compliment. Patting myself down, I found one last cigarette hidden in an interior pocket and lit it up. "That wasn't Work with a capital W, remember? That was a favor."

"Of course. You're retired." It was almost shaped like a question, but it wasn't. Not really.

Not with the flames dancing so close to us.

"As retired as any huntress-killer can be." I snapped the lighter shut, locked the suitcase, and saluted Blake. They didn't respond, not even a languid blink. Just molten yellow eyes staring at me. I felt those eyes digging into my back all the drive home, skin crawling like I was being stalked.

We all had jobs to do. Sometimes it was an ugly job, sometimes it wasn't what you were trained for. If you received an order to kill, you went and you killed. More often than not it was a Scab, but sometimes it was a Grimm. And then, of course, there were the rogue huntresses.

The guys in charge just figured I was really, really good at only one of those things.

It was around three in the morning when I finally got home. I kicked off my boots, threw my jacket over the counter, and fell face first onto the couch. The suitcase rested right next to me on the floor, my fingers still loosely gripping the handle.

A door hinge quietly squeaking woke me up just two hours later. My eyes flew open, instantly alert even though I knew it was just Ruby. I could tell by the weight of her footsteps.

Then I spent a few minutes befuddled over the fact that I knew the sound of her by heart. One of those domestic been-living-together-awhile sensations I wasn't used to yet. I was shocked by how easy it all became once we ran away from the Center for Research and Containment of Extra-monarchical Threats...

AKA the CRACET...

Or as everyone who actually worked there said, the crack-it.

Anyway, being domestic with her was a welcome change of pace.

Sitting up, I yawned and pulled the suitcase into my lap as she rushed around the kitchen. Other than our rooms, the apartment was fairly open, just a low kitchen counter and my bar.

"Someone's in a hurry." I mumbled, drumming my fingers on hard black leather.

"Yes. Sorry for waking you up." Ruby downed a cup of coffee, still molten-hot, and I winced.

"I know the risks of sleeping on the couch." Not that I'd get a better night's sleep in my own bed. I yawned, rubbing my eyes, and Ruby ghost-footed over to me and kissed my cheeks before I realized she'd even left the kitchen.

"I have a job. I'll be back later."

I decided to pry, mostly for the pleasure of hearing her voice. "What kinda job?"

"A job."

Getting curved like that made me even more curious. "But—"

"I don't have time to explain, Yang. I gotta go."

Frowning deeply, I started to get up. "But—"

Ruby cupped the back of my neck, kissing me again. But this time on the lips, so firmly the back of my head hit the couch. I froze, whole body tensing up.

What the fuck?

The kiss was hard, but dry and quick. "Hah." Ruby pulled back with a wink. "If I'd known that would shut you up, I would have tried that years ago."

Then she retreated, swinging her jacket over one shoulder and slamming the door behind her. Stunned, I rubbed my jaw as though she'd socked me. I actually wished she had, that would have been way less confusing.

It was still stupidly early in the morning, but dawn was approaching fast and I didn't like sleeping while the sun is up.

And I still didn't know what I'd do with a suitcase full of Dust.

The initial plan was to sell it. If I couldn't find someone on my own, I'd have to find a buyer through the Malachites or Junior. And I didn't want to deal with them. I knew they'd want a cut.

So, setting the case in my room where I didn't have to look at it, I went out for a drive.

It was my day off, so I had a lot of time to think. My clothes still reeked like fire and smoke, and the wind didn't do anything to brush it off of me, no matter how fast I rode Bumblebee around the city limits.

Coming home to an empty apartment was too depressing, so I stayed out until well past dark.

I fumbled in the dark with my key to the bar, wondering if I could get away with stealing a bottle of whiskey from the bottom shelf. It was on my way through the Employees Only door to the staircase that led to my apartment, no one would be any wiser. Except whoever kept inventory, perhaps. But would they have the balls to bring it to the boss' attention?

Probably not.

My resolve melted when I found out I wasn't alone. Melanie was perched on the bar, chatting with her sister. Miltia stood right next to her, reclining against the solid black marble, elbows on the surface.

When I entered the room both of them froze, hackles rising. I didn't take it too personally, I'd been in their shoes once. Raven made me feel like that, until she trained me and then every time I walked into a room every huntress would turn and look at me like that. Skin-crawling, primal. They were in the presence of an apex predator and they felt fear again like they hadn't known in a decade of civilian life. The terror was alive and bubbling, so thick I could scent it in the air.

Then real life returned and we all remembered the rules were different now, we were all civilians, sort of, and I couldn't get away with murdering them— probably— and more importantly, they were my bosses. They held the power now. Not measured in blood but in social clout.

Also we had sex once. It's hard to be scared of someone when you've seen them all naked and floppy.

"Good evening, Yang," they said as one, so in sync I often wondered if it was their semblance.

"Want a drink?" Melanie continued, stroking the almost-empty bottle between them. It felt a bit like a steel trap.

The stairs to my apartment were just beyond them, stretching out, promising nothing but emptiness.

Walking over to them, I threw my jacket over one of the stools. "Definitely. Whatcha got for me today, boss?"

Miltia poured me a shot, and Melanie drew me closer until I was close enough to drape her arms over my shoulders. "A business deal."

The shotglass halted on its path to my lips.

God damn it.

Steeling myself against the burn, I knocked it back. "Okay. I'm listening."

"It's about our favorite robot. She's been getting mouthy with us lately."

Always my sister's keeper. "I'll have a word with her, but I can't guarantee she'll listen."

I don't know why anyone thinks she listens to me.

"We know, Yang, that's why we're striking a deal."

That sheer audacity was a real mood killer. Already acting like I'd accept whatever it is they'd offer me. Saying Ruby was a robot, that she didn't feel. It just showed how little they knew her.

The crack-it wouldn't have kept such an iron grip on her if that big heart weren't such a liability. Wouldn't have tortured her. Wouldn't have kept me from her, for years and years, until I wouldn't have recognized her on the street if she hadn't looked so much like her mother.

Melanie giggled, bringing me back to reality.

"What?"

"You get the same daydreamy face as your sister when you're spacing out."

"Hmm." I'm pretty sure I've never been accused of looking like Ruby before. I was surprised by how much I liked it. "So what do you want, exactly?"

Miltia put both hands on my lap, leaning forward until she could whisper into my ear. "We're happy to keep your secret a while longer, Yang. But it's getting expensive." Her nails dug into my thighs.

I exhaled. "How much, then?"

She said a number.

The arms around my shoulder shifted, so that one was locked across my throat. Not tight enough to choke. Yet. "Don't worry, we did the math for you. It's only twenty percent of your paycheck every month."

"Give or take," Miltia finished with amusement.

I knew better than to show them how upset I was, so I just grinned, shooting finger guns at Miltia when she withdrew. "Or maybe I can pay you some other way."

She took it in good humor. "We can get that for free, Yang."

"Well obviously not, because I'm still here fully clothed." Shaking myself from Melanie's arms, I snatched the bottle and headed to the stairs. "Nice chat, ladies."

Quiet steps. Quiet steps all the way upstairs, but only because Raven had beaten the habit into me. I wanted to storm and stomp, absolutely fuming. The bottle in my hand heated up to the boiling point and hung there on the precipice, almost bubbling over.

Weirdly enough, the worst part about it all was that I didn't even know what secret they meant. The fact that Ruby and I were rogue huntresses? That I murdered more people than Scabs? That I still did that, whenever they asked? How hungrily I'd accepted their bodies, but only once, and how I hadn't dared touch them again because—?

Because—?

I closed my eyes.

Throwing my head back, I drained the bottle in three long draws and then gasped for air, burning from my lungs to nose.

Which one?

Once I rattled my apartment door open I did a double take to see Ruby was already home. Asleep on the couch, she curled up with her back to the door, head tucked into the crook of her elbows. To block out the light, ostensibly, yet I'd be damned if didn't look exactly like a boxer's fighting stance.

Knocked sideways by the wave of love that hit me at the sight of her, I knelt on the floor next to her and set the empty bottle aside. I reached out, stroking her back.

My beautiful sister, perfect even when covered in pitch up to her elbows.

That perfect killing machine, tainted by whatever the crack-it did to her.

Ruby took care in her appearance, kept her suits neat and trim. It kept me from noticing something until I felt it just then. The space between her shoulderblades was scooped out, hollow, a perfect capital C.

I frowned.

I hadn't noticed she'd lost this much weight.

Troubled by the revelation, I remained lost in thought, watching over her until she spoke.

"Hey. That felt nice, don't stop."

"Oh!" Cracking a smile, I kept stroking her back. "You're awake."

"Mhm." She stretched her arms above her head, uncoiling from a tense, little rolled up ball into something long and lethargic. "Just trying to see what's so great about this couch. You haven't slept in your bed in weeks."

"It's comfier." That was a lie. It was just easier to deal with an empty bed when there was less space for someone else.

It wasn't even a sexual thing. It was me being touch-starved. Sex was just the easiest way to get touched these days, it was a good excuse.

When I was a kid I had the same bad habit, kind of. Once Raven and I were far out into the wilderness, it got cold and I had an excuse to be close to her. She allowed it, putting her arm over my shoulder, holding me, or letting me sleep in the same bedroll as her. Even then I had to come up with excuses to be close to people I loved. I knew the alternative was admitting weakness, and Raven was kind enough to let me cling to the illusion of strength.

I still missed her. Nearly every day.

"I'll go buy you a new mattress then." Ruby said it decisively, swinging around to plant her feet on the floor with a thump. I knew she had to consciously choose to make that noise, the same way I did when I was being polite. We both learned silence was not comforting to civilians.

"You don't need to do that," I said, sharper than I meant to. "I mean, that's a lot of money."

"You know I earn my own money, right?" She grinned. "I pay half the rent."

"Well, I pay the utilities," I shot back, aware that what we were arguing about was absurd, but still heated about it. I kept thinking about the Malachites trying to squeeze more money out of me, how they might try to sink their claws into her next.

But they knew better. They knew better than to touch Ruby. To even look at her wrong. They knew what I'd do for her.

"Well, I pay for all my cars. Also, if we're gonna start measuring dicks, you need to take your pants off."

Taken aback, I was pulled from furious musing to stare at her, struck mute.

"You're in my sleeping place," I said at last.

Ruby smiled. "Well if you're taking the couch again, can I sleep in your bed?"

"Sure." Once she sat up straight, I jumped onto the couch next to her.

"Thanks, Yang." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I'll be gone most of tomorrow, too. Don't wait up for me."

I kept her from getting up with a hand on her shoulder. "Where're you going?"

"Another job. It's a secret."

"I don't keep secrets from you," I said, sulking.

"Well I do." She stood up. "Good night, Yang."

That went on for days. At night, Ruby would come home after I went to sleep, if she came home at all. She was always gone by the time I awoke.

We didn't cross paths until the end of the week. The parking spots near Junior's bar were filled up with customers, so I rolled over to the garage nearby where Ruby stored all her cars. To my delight, she was there, in a ratty gray t-shirt and jeans that didn't fit. She looked spectacularly dorky with her shirt tucked in and her belt cinched tight.

Though there's no hiding the rumble of a motorcycle engine, Ruby didn't acknowledge me until I walked over to her, whistling sharply to get her attention. "Hey baby girl. What's up?"

Once she finally tore herself away from her car, Ruby stared just over my shoulder, eyes unfocused. She radiated an intense exhaustion, so strong it almost knocked me back. I wondered if she'd been here a while, if she was planning to curl up in the backseat and nap here for a while. I doubted she could make it the few blocks to our apartment in the state she was in.

"Hey, Yang. Just blowing off some steam."

I felt that. If only there were some surefire way to make her feel better, I would have done it in a heartbeat. Instead I did the best I could, and jerked my thumb at the Bumblebee. "Want to go for a ride?"

She shook her head. "I need to fix something. Pass me that toolbox."

"Sure, if you want." I looked around me, trying to find what she was asking for. "Do what you gotta do. Then I'll carry you home."

Ruby laughed. Her voice was a little rough, and I wondered if she was falling ill with something. "Maybe later."

There was no maybe about it. Not that I'd let her know that just yet. No matter how much she protested, I would make sure she went home that night. Until then I stayed by her, sitting on my Bumblebee, chatting idly with her while she worked.

Ruby kept her scroll nearby, constantly playing her favorite albums on loop. After a while she turned it down. Every action became slower and less coordinated, until I worried she'd slip up and hurt herself. Ruby crawled up from her knees to her feet, taking a break to sit in the driver's seat of her car.

The moment she relaxed, she passed out.

So I quietly cleaned up after her, putting everything away. When I opened up her her toolbox to toss a wrench inside, I nearly scattered all its contents out onto the floor.

Right there, not even hidden away in a bottom compartment, was a knife the length of my forearm.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said.

I took it out, turning it in my hand to examine it from every angle. Not that I really needed any confirmation once I saw the gear imprinted on the steel. I'd know it anywhere. It was Raven's old hunting knife.

It was The Knife.

The last time I'd seen it it had been buried six inches deep into her back.

"Oh, fuck."

The car door slammed shut. Before it fully registered that Ruby had dragged herself out of sleep, that wiry little body banged into mine. Ruby shoved me aside, ignoring the knife in favor of snapping the toolbox shut. She did it so hard it made me wonder what else was in there.

Ruby set the toolbox down of the hood of her car, hunched over it. She kept her back turned to me, mortified and mute, red crawling up the back of her neck.

I tossed the knife once. It spun in a silver arc before I caught it again by the bone-white handle. "It's not a good idea to keep a murder weapon where anyone can find it."

Her head twitched to the side. All I could see was her profile, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. Ruby looked like she wanted to argue, starting a dozen excuses only to let them die in her throat, choking on them.

Then she said, with a terrified smile, "Does it even count as murder when it's a rogue huntress?"

There was only one way to answer that and still be able to sleep at night. "I guess it doesn't."

The weird thing was, I wasn't even mad. It would be so like Ruby to still think about it. To keep it, out of remorse, maybe. To mourn Raven?

"I'm just shocked you held onto it this long. Crack-it never let me keep trophies. Too much like serial killer behavior, they said."

Wrong thing to say. I knew it at once, bracing myself for when Ruby immediately shouted back.

"That wasn't... I'm not..." she started, bitterly. "I didn't want to. I didn't like it!"

"I know, I know," I reassured her.

Walking over to her, I tossed the knife again, catching it by the blade this time so that I could hand it to Ruby. She didn't immediately respond, both her hands protectively over the lid of her toolbox.

So I wiggled the knife, making an impatient noise until she gingerly took it by the handle and stored it back out of sight.

Ruby remained crouched over it, her shoulders rolling forward, hunched and tight. "I'm sorry."

I grabbed the top of her head, mussing up her hair with a palm on her head. "You're fine."

She was still upset, of course. Ruby knocked my hand away, only for me to yank her back to my side and noogie her. Cursing me, she ducked and darted away but I chased her, hugging her, kissing her all over her face. When she broke free, giggling— "Y-Y-Yang, cut it out."— it quickly became a bout of playfighting.

Until I caught her by the shoulders and slammed her against the car, harder than I meant to. She was so much smaller than she ought to be, so much weaker. I thought she could have fought me off if she really wanted to, but there I was, watching her in fascination as she struggled in vain.

"Ugh." She relaxed, huffing. Her chin lowered in a stubborn glare, red hair flopping forward onto her face. Pressed chest to chest, I could feel her heart working double-time, like she'd just run a mile.

We were as close as two people could be.

Ruby rested her head on my shoulder again. My grip tightened fractionally, then I let her go and so she could hug me. I kept a hand on her back, rubbing small circles to ease away the stress.

"Can we go home now?" she asked, her lips against my neck.

"Mhm. Need me to carry you?"

Ruby rested all her weight on me. She nodded, eyes closed. So I hefted her up into my arms, stunned again at how light she was. That wasn't a good thing. It wasn't like I'd been hitting the gym any more than I usually did. We inherited height from our father, and she was snake-hipped and whip-thin, but every ounce of her had been solid, dense muscle.

Not anymore.

No one was in the bar to spot us as I took her upstairs to her room. It hummed, always a few degrees warmer than the world outside, tight because of all her tools and schematics scattered everywhere.

When I set her down, her grip shifted so that her arms were around my neck. Trapped, I braced my palms on the mattress to avoid falling on top of her.

She seemed wide-awake now, silver eyes gleaming in the darkness. "But I wanted to sleep in your bed again."

I made a fist, grabbing a handful of bedsheets. "I have—"

My phone started buzzing, thank god. Breaking free, I patted myself down for it, knowing it could only be Junior or the Malachites at this hour. "I have—" Oh thank god, thank god, thank god. "I have some work to do. Catch you later, babygirl."

She rolled over, mumbling something into the pillows. Raising one hand, she waved me off. Buzzing uncomfortably from head to toe, I tried very hard to control the pace of my footsteps so that it didn't sound like I was running away, even though that was exactly what I was doing.

I was still shaking when I arrived at the meetup spot, but I don't think Junior noticed.

"Hey, Dragon." Junior nodded to me, sitting on the front porch of a suburban home. He yanked a red handkerchief from his suit jacket, wiping it down the length of a knife so long it looked more like a sword. It came back pitch black. "Mind helping the girls out with a little problem?"

Even before I heard the hiss from inside, I could smell it. Scabs, infected people long past saving. It was almost sickly-sweet, like rotting fruit. I'm not sure if it smelled like that to any other huntress. I never asked. "I'm retired, you know."

"And so are we, but you don't see us bitching about it." Melanie's sister knelt near her, adjusting one of the straps on Melanie's heels at her soft instruction. Then they both stretched, double checking the fit of their equipment. "Come on. This is nothing the three of us can't handle."

The sour on my face never left, and soon Miltia was frowning at my unspoken question. "You know we don't ask the crack-it and their huntresses for help unless we have to."

Stepping up to me, she toyed with the zipper on my jacket, letting the teeth open up as she tugged it down. "That's why you came to work for us. Remember?"

I knocked her hand away, zipping my jacket up to my neck and loading up Ember Celica. "We need three huntresses for a house this size?"

"We want to keep this short... and quiet." Junior clarified before pointing at my weapons. "No Dust. A quick, clean sweep as a favor to an old friend."

I tied my hair up, keeping everything tight. Nothing anyone could grab or hold me down with. "Then let's get it over with."

I was the doorkicker. The wood splintered under my heel and I charged in, burning hot to make myself a big target. The Scabs inside were just smart enough to not fall for it completely, one of them sprinting right at Melanie and trying to tackle her down.

It was quick and brutal. There was a cluster of six infected people in the house. Two above, four in the basement trying to dig a tunnel to the neighbor's house.

When it was done I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, staring absently at the black rivulets circling down the drain. Black blood was the first symptom of infection. It was the surest tell that the things we killed weren't human. The pitch, oily and clumping, clung to everything it touched.

"Do mine too." Melanie said. Steel clattered as she tossed her heels into the sink.

"If you say so, boss."

"Now she pretends to be a model employee." She prodded my cheek. "If you actually care about that, you'd give me what I really want."

"Yeah, Yang." Miltia shoved me away from the sink. I stumbled back, hands dripping gray water onto the tiles. "You're not going to hide forever. We want an answer."

"No more running away," Melanie added.

I gripped my head, shouting to drown them out. "Okay, okay! Enough already! Fine!"

So I dropped my hands to my belt with a long-suffering sigh.

Miltia's eyes narrowed. "...What are you doing?"

Fly open, I started shucking off my jacket. "It's obvious you want me to give you my precious virgin body." Throwing myself against the kitchen counter, I leaned back on it, one arm over my eyes. "So ravish me! Take me! Scoundrels!"

Melanie got fucking pissed.

"After everything we've done to hide you and your stupid fugitive sister," she yelled, waving one finger in my face as Miltia wheezed in laughter. "The danger we're in isn't negligible, you know, we're not trying to squeeze you out of a sense of greed. It's fucking expensive, keeping the crack-it off your tail and ours, you think we want to deal with them any more than you do? I ought to—"

Once Miltia got ahold of herself, she motioned for her sister to quiet down. "Yang, come on. You didn't really think you could pay us in a threesome, did you?"

"Well..." I cast my glance aside, sulking. "I hoped."

"Be serious."

"I'm always serious."

Well, sort of. Of course I was tempted to sleep with them one more time. It wasn't like it was terrible, and they clearly didn't hate the idea of it happening again.

But the last time we slept together I felt like... Like I was doing them a favor.

That maybe I could be a vehicle for something we didn't dare name.

I'd gotten up in the middle of the night, slipping free of the arms around me, the bodies tangled with mine. Getting dressed in the dark, I stepped outside for a cigarette, not wanting to bother them with the smoke. I took longer than I should have, I guess, maybe they thought I'd left without saying goodbye.

But when I came back in I froze to see them still there where I left them.

Obviously.

But they weren't asleep. I stood there, transfixed by the way I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Their skin was the same shade of alabaster, long hair knotted and tangled and messy. Sure I'd picked up the subtle differences, the turns of phrases and how Melanie was more stuck up, and Miltia had tan lines around her wrists from her weapons' braces.

Right then I couldn't tell. I could just hear them, a voice saying, "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you." And another, a voice that sounded the same in everything except how breathless it was, answering in a cry of pleasure.

I felt a lot of things at the same time: shock, disgust. I was enraptured, and I was... embarrassed, and furious.

And jealous.

They didn't need me after all.

There was nothing to hide behind when you could confuse your sister for a mirror.

I worked so hard to fight against what I wanted and then there were these two, not even trying to hide.

And they didn't even have an excuse.

Melanie snapped her fingers in front of my face. "You're doing it again. Get out of la-la-land, button up your goddamn pants, and tell me a number, Yang."

I whipped back immediately. "Five percent."

"Junior won't let us go any lower than fifteen."

"Lying through your teeth, Malachite. Junior can't so much as change the menu without consulting you."

"Fine, then. Five percent."

That they so readily agreed to my price knocked me off-kilter. More so than the fact that we were arguing about this in a hunting site. I tilted my head to the side, redoing all my clothes and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Melanie's smile was cruel. "If you let us fool around with Ruby, that is."

My hair got caught in the teeth of my jacket zipper. "Fuck you."

"What a coincidence. Fifteen percent of your paycheck is exactly how much it costs to fuck us."

I swear, if I got any madder I was going to breathe out steam. So I forced myself to smile until it hurt, trying to drag them back down with a purr. "So it's a two for one deal after all?"

Miltia stood next to me, fingers walking up my stomach. "You get a discount because we like you."

I did the math in my head, furiously crunching numbers. Ashamedly, I took Ruby's paycheck into consideration. Even if I didn't want to rely on her for anything.

I'm the one who's supposed to take care of her.

"Thirteen percent." That was the absolute highest I could go without hurting us. If that still wasn't enough...

Melanie shook her head. "Unlucky number."

"Seriously!?"

"No. We're fucking with you."

God damn it.

The two of them laughed at my expense, and I was forced to stand there and take it with dwindling patience. "Thirteen percent is fine," Miltia finished, wiping at her eyes. "Thirteen percent and buy me a drink."

"As fun as that sounds, we still have work to do." Melanie, in a much better mood now that she got what she wanted, headed outside to wait with Junior.

We stayed out late enough to watch the sun rise. Two more houses needed cleaning. And then, when the sun rose again the next day, I finally went home.

My scroll was beyond dead. It didn't even flicker enough light to show an empty battery signal.

Standing in the entrance to our home, I waited, listening for signs of life. A few rays of sunlight pierced the thick black curtains. "I'm home." I called out softly, not expecting a response.

With my jacket slung over my shoulder, I made my way inside, wondering what I should do next. If I should sleep through the rest of the day, or muscle through it until the sun dipped below the horizon one more time.

What's a normal sleeping schedule, anyway?

While the world was still awake, I thought I ought to try and get more work in. Like try to find a buyer for that Dust. I wondered if Blake thought I'd come running right back to them, that I wouldn't know what to do with such a sum. Something about them made me think they didn't do anything transient, that they set roots into everything they touched and waited for something to sprout.

Every joint in my body creaked and cracked as I settled down on the couch. On instinct I reached to the side, groping around for the suitcase.

It wasn't where I left it.

Frowning deeply, I searched around for the suitcase, wondering if Ruby moved it. Then I got on all fours, expecting to see that one of us had kicked it underneath.

Nothing.

Alarmed, I swept through the rest of the apartment and my room before stopping in front of Ruby's. My brain screamed at me at the violation of privacy as I shouldered my way in and started clearing through it like I was on an assignment and I was hunting her.

Pretending she was a target on the run was not hard at all. I found the knife again— the knife— and a coin with a nail hammered through it. Seeing it bent and twisted with age, run through and rusting, I couldn't help but relate.

It was not a big room, and I found the suitcase mostly untouched. A small portion of Dust was gone.

More importantly, I found something else. A letter. Not old. Freshly made, handwritten.

Ruby came home to find me perched on the edge of her bed, halfway through the fifth page.

I felt bad, watching her walk in. Her jacket halfway off, the sunglasses askew on her face. She looked like she was falling apart.

She froze, seeing me there.

Then her face fell into a flat mask, cold and angry. With shaking hands, she threw her sunglasses onto her work desk, next to everything else I'd torn through to get to my Dust. "God damn it, Yang."

I waved the sheaf of papers at her. "It's very wordy for a living will."

"Stop going through my things." She made a grab for the papers, holding onto them. Ruby gave it an experimental tug, maybe expecting me to clutch onto them. But I let her take it back, watched her shove it into her toolbox. "You keep finding stuff that makes you unhappy."

Ruby fluttered her fingers over the toolbox, drumming out a little beat.

I waited, not wanting to lead her anywhere. To see where she would go on her own, unprompted.

Reaching into her pocket, she took out a vial of the red Dust and put it back in my suitcase, locking it securely and handing it to me. "Sorry. I went to go check the purity. Maybe find a seller..." She mumbles, guilty. "It didn't look like you were doing anything with it. I should have asked."

She tried to crack a joke, grinning. "So we can call it even. Let's not touch each other's things anymore."

Chin in my hand, I watched her with a guarded expression. I'm not sure how much of my anger I was projecting. I tried not to project anything at all.

"Are we going to pretend this isn't happening?"

Ruby flinched. She grabbed her sunglasses, fiddled with the leg until the hinges began to squeak.

I knew Ruby had to process her emotions differently. That we were both broken after what the crack-it did to us.

Fine, fine, whatever. Fine. Just talk to me!

"What's wrong with you?"

Hearing the words come out of my own mouth made me feel sick. I didn't even want to think about how Ruby must feel. I wished I could explain myself, but I just got angrier. "And what's wrong with that fucking letter?"

She kept her mouth shut, glaring at me. Stubborn as ever.

"...I just want to make sure you know what to do with me when I'm gone."

Somehow that burned even worse than everything else. I was there trying to get the truth out of her and she refused to answer my questions, refused to let me in. I went through for much for her, everything I've done was for her, and now...

"So you're going to die and leave me in the dark?" I stood up. "Is that how this is going to happen?"

"Everybody dies, Yang."

"You know what I mean."

Ruby grimaced. "And obviously I don't want to talk about it! Who the hell made it your business to find out, anyway?!"

"You did, when you left with me!"

"I had to!" She snapped back. As always when she was angry, her eyes seemed to soak up all the light in the room, shining like mine did when my semblance was at its howling, furious peak. "When Raven went rogue, they set all of Patch on fire! What the fuck do you think they'd do to you!?" She shoved me back a few paces.

"Like you weren't as desperate to leave as I was. Don't act like it was all my idea." Just like my semblance reflects my nature, she reflected me, and everything I take I have to give back twice as hard. "And don't you dare put your hands on me like I'm some—" I grabbed her wrists to keep her from shoving me again, pulling her close to me so she couldn't swing her sharp elbows around, either.

"You smell like a Scab," she hissed, blindly furious, struggling and fighting to get away. "I'm trying to be careful. You're out there getting into bar fights every weekend, hunting in someone else's territory just because Junior asked you to, and you say you're doing that for me?"

"Fuck you!"

She broke free, punching me so hard I saw stars. There's not a person in the world who can take a swing at me and get nothing back, not even Ruby. Not even when I knew there wouldn't be a contest, that I'd win the moment I let my semblance soak up the hit. It channeled down my arm, into my fist, and I flung it right back at her.

We scrabbled like a pair of rookie huntresses, all the aggression cultivated in us over years of conditioning left with nowhere else to go. Like opening the door of a house in flames, or the rush of hot steam from a broken pipe.

Her desk upturned, schematics flying everywhere as I wrestled her down to the floor. "Enough!" I said, shaking her when she tried to struggle free again. "Stop it!"

She just glared at me. Ruby's blood splattered all over her face, crimson and smeared—

No.

She got my blood on her face, dripping from the cut on my lip.

Her nose was bleeding black.

Everything went blank and quiet for a minute.

Then a million thoughts raced through my mind. The symptoms of a Scab infection were unmistakable, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ruby was immune. There was no way she could have hidden it for years— for a decade— without someone catching on. Hell, I'd seen her get bitten once or twice.

"You." I let go of her shoulders like she'd scalded me. "What's wrong with you? Ruby, oh my god, you—"

Ruby wiped her bleeding nose with the back of her hand, spit to clear it from her mouth, and then grabbed me by my scalp and yanked me down for a kiss.

I gasped, pressing forward with need. Her words from not too long ago pounded against me, if I'd known that would shut you up, I would have tried that years ago, but this time her tongue was curling over the scrape on my lip. It stung, but not bad enough for me to stop. My hands dropped to her hips, feeling the rasp of bandages when I pushed her shirt up to touch her.

Her body stiffened up in my arms.

I froze too, meeting her eyes in the darkness, waiting.

Ruby untangled herself from me to sit up, but didn't move away. Her legs stayed around my waist, straddling my lap.

"I'm sick."

She admitted it in a rasp like I hadn't already guessed. Her fingertips skirted down my arms before taking my hands in hers. Like I was watching this from outside my own body, I let her use my hands to undress herself, slipping the buttons on her dress shirt free one by one.

Ruby held one hand to her lips, kissing the back of my fingers before trailing it down her sternum. The smooth press of her sports bra, then a strip of flesh so soft it made me bite my lip.

Everything from her waist down was covered by thick bandages. She pressed my hand to her side, and I smelled sweet, rotting fruit. The bandages were dirty and brown, turning black in patches, in need of a change.

"I'm infected, but I won't turn."

She closed her eyes tight, grimacing as though she were about to faint.

"I'm just... dying."

The symptoms started not too long after we left the crack-it, she said. She didn't understand it but she thought maybe she wasn't ever immune at all, that the crack-it maybe were experimenting on her.

"Because there was another girl just like me," she said, "and she's probably dead now, or maybe cured— if the crack-it were looking for a cure at all, that is."

"Maybe they were just trying to make more soldiers," she said, staring at the floor.

Ruby's silver eyes wavered, the way the asphalt does on a hot summer day. Like little shivering puddles of water, glinting white in the sun. Curling an arm behind her neck, I pulled her closer. We were already intertwined, legs tangled up, and now we were chest to chest as I kissed the crown of her head.

"Come on," I said, "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I'd rather keep kissing," she said in a whisper. "That's easier to deal with than all this."

A twist of my hips put pressure on her, thigh pressed between her legs. She tensed up again, lips sealing shut to hide the whimper deep in her throat. But I just peeled myself free from her and hoisted her up, one hand on her forearm. In my bathroom she let me help her undress all the way, and there was nothing left to hide.

She tapped her ribs, pointing to an old bite mark. Or at least, it should have been old. I knew the spot that turned my sister very well, the first desecration.

"It comes and goes," she said. "Sometimes it heals over and sometimes it bleeds and reopens." She checked herself in the mirror, twisting her torso and grimacing. It seemed to be a good day, mostly scabs and a little red ring of irritated flesh around the teeth marks. I stepped behind her, instinctively checking to see if it was hot to the touch, tight or sensitive with the first signs of an infection.

Her arms dropped. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?" I asked, twitching away.

"No. I mean, yes, but not right now. I just don't want you to touch it in case it's catching." When she crossed her arms over her chest, her skin stretched out and I could see each individual rib. Her shoulderblades looked like twin points, straining to burst free and rise up into a pair of wings. So I turned her away from the mirror and hugged her, careful not to squeeze too hard this time.

"If you are sick, what you have can't be passed to me."

"But I—"

I quieted her protest with another kiss, a small one on her lips. Every inch of tension held in her body sloughed away, melted into the gloved palms of my hands.

When we finally parted she was stunned, staring at me with starved hope.

I combed my fingers through her hair, gently pushing her bangs out of her face. "I was born immune. Remember?"

Her face hardened, the shadows under her eyes darkening. "But what I have might—" I kissed her again. "It might be a different strain, a new mutation, something altered or—" I tightened my grip on the back of her neck. Muffled by my mouth, her words turned to moans, pained and tortured like she'd never been touched gently in her entire life.

I kinda wanted to knead at her until all the stress could be wrung out between my hands. I wanted to take that kind of care and time with her. But she pulled away, turning her face aside even as she pulled me closer.

"God, Yang, what if you get sick? What if you get sick like me? We'd both just be here dying—"

I gripped her wrists again, pinning her against the bathroom wall.

"Dying with you was always the plan."

She kissed me. Every sinew in her arms stood out stark, trembling with effort. She strained and struggled against me with all her strength, trying to touch me back. Still I didn't let her, trying to see how far I could get with just my mouth. When she did it was to grab me by the scalp, fingers lost in my hair hair. She held me close, gasping into the crook of my shoulder.

It was so easy. It was like being with anybody else, but I already knew her so well. With the Malachites I was so chatty they threatened to gag me. Here it was like we were fighting side by side. There were no words needed, not when we were in sync like this. I knew exactly what she wanted. Her body told me everything, the curls between her legs sopping wet.

"Oh." She held me tighter, her eyes clenching shut. "Oh!"

I wrenched the pleasure out of her, a quick jerk of my hand ripping it free of whatever restraint she had left. The noise that came out of her could only be described as a quiet scream. Some low, animal sound. A tattered, howling moan.

Her knees buckled, trembling until I nudged them further open. She spread her legs wide, wrapping them around me as we slid to the floor. The scent of her flooded my nose, my fingers knuckle-deep inside that incredible heat.

Kneeling, with her on my lap, most of my body resting on top of hers, I realized I was panting like I'd just run a mile. Ruby tasted like sweat, and something bitter. The second time came just as quick, but less explosive. No growling here, just a gasp and a hastily bitten word.

"You've got me locked pretty tight there, babe."

What a normal thing to say. I should have said something better to mark that final boundary being crossed. I should have pledged undying devotion.

Ruby's throat bobbed, her breath coming in stuttered gasps. "I'm sorry. I'll try to relax."

Butting my head against hers, I kissed her cheek. "I just don't want to hurt you."

My fingers rested inside her, feeling every idle ripple of pleasure. So many girls I'd known had been eager to squirm away at this point, overstimulated and sensitive. But Ruby rocked her hips, biting her lower lip in an insistent pout.

So I kissed down her chest, wishing I had the self control to take my time. But how could I? It was useless to pretend I wanted anything else, even when it turned out my imagination didn't even scrape the surface of what it was actually like.

I'm always delighted and caught off guard by how much I love it.

How soft. Almost silky, when she'd come once or twice already. The way her clit throbbed under my tongue, so sweet and so stiff. Scorching hot, arousal smeared down her thighs and my chin, dripping and sloppy with need. Everywhere I touched jumped and sizzled, fluttering, nerves alight with pleasure.

I made her come again. And then once more after that for good measure, not satisfied until she was motionless, all her energy focused to the simple act of breathing.

The world spun. Reeling from this catastrophe. Wrist aching and jaw sore, I kept her close to me, guarding her naked body with mine until she spoke again.

"So much for cleaning me up."

Propping my head on one hand, I swallowed back a delirious laugh. She looked as winded as I feel, sharp eyes cloudy and unfocused for once. "I'll draw you a bath, then."

She nodded, but didn't let me go immediately. Ruby clung to the lapels of my jacket, her sleepy mumbles sounding almost like a purr. Her whole body shook when she finally stood, rattling like cold bones in winter.

I helped her into the warm water, promising her a good scrub.

"With lavender... Bath salts?" I rattled the jar, scrutinizing it. It was a birthday gift from an old lover that I never opened and never really wanted to use. But the thing said it was therapeutic, and helped you relax, so... "Is this actual salt? I don't think that's good for your bite..."

Ruby sighed, resting her head on the lip of the tub. "It can't hurt, honestly."

I knelt next to her, chest swelling with love as I rolled up my sleeves. Red streaks slipped through my fingers, slick and sudsy as I worked shampoo into her hair, lathering her up and humming under my breath.

"Join me." Her eyes were closed when she said it at first, but they fluttered open to look up at me, the image of angelic innocence. "Get in here with me in the tub."

I could hear the drip of water from my hands. Then I stripped, careful not to rush or splash to much as I slid into the warm water with her.

Her eyes trailed down me inch by inch. She measured me in absolute silence. Whatever conclusions she came to, she didn't say. But her hands were appreciative. Rough, work-sanded. Builder's hands, meant to find every flaw and fix it, make it better. She found me wanting. Needing something we didn't have a name for yet, somewhere in between the coarse muscles on my body and the fibers in my heart.

The touches didn't brand. She hadn't yet developed a taste for leaving her mark on me like the signatures in all her blueprints. Still I was in agony by the time the water got cold, her intent as gentle as her palms were calloused.

When she finished tracing every single line in my body, she returned to the ones I'd drawn on my skin. Her nails scratched over my tattoos, soaking them in with admiration.

"Ruby," I said, voice strained, whole body trembling.

Quite suddenly she was lucid, more alert than she had any right to be. She'd shaken off her glowing daze, not needing or wanting it any more. Hunger makes us sharp and lean, I guess.

The shower turned out to be pretty useless, is what I'm trying to say.

"You don't know how long I waited," she said into my ear, hitting some perfect white-noise pitch that filled my whole head with buzzing pleasure. It spread through my whole body, rising up to the surface of my skin, like blood in a bruise, wherever she touched me.

We went to my bed because it was closer, and it was at that point I snapped, reaching an almost liquid state of perfect clarity. Nothing existed except that moment, my hands tangling up in her hair while she was on her knees, worshipful.

She wanted me on all fours, crouched over her with my teeth on her neck. I thrust into her, my hands slowly working her to dripping wetness. I didn't expect her to come again, content to keep at it for no other reward except her sweet voice, rising in volume with every pass of my fingers over her clit. When she did I felt dark pride, and a hardon so strong it almost hurt. I knew nothing would satisfy it better than her mouth (my mouth) and eased her onto her back, gentle before I crouched over her face, twisting pleasure and friction from her tongue.

Then she needed me again. I would have rather died than leave while she still needed me. We stayed side by side, passing palms over breasts and hips, one leg hooked over hers so I could finally feel her whole body stretched out next to mine.

And on and on. You get the picture.

We ordered a pizza for lunch the next day, since neither of us had the willpower to crawl out of bed.

Ruby kept an arm wrapped around me, her chest flush to my back. I could tell she wasn't asleep, her breathing was all off for that. But she didn't speak, not for a while.

Until she rubbed her forehead against the space between my shoulders. "Your skin is soft. Didn't imagine that."

My whole body ached. Rolling my head from side to side, I listened for the cracks with no small amount of satisfaction. "You imagined it."

"What can I say." Dark amusement folded into her words. Her nails became little claws, scratching a line from where they were resting just under my breast, down my abdomen. "You're my type."

Her type. A cold shiver ran down my spine, half rage, half arousal. A mental checklist of all my partners in the past came up the same. Younger women with powerful bodies and dark hair and light eyes, nearly all of them.

And that wasn't even taking into account my whole mess with the Malachites.

Her hand kept sliding lower, and my breath hitched to feel her draw a slow, curious circle around the hood of my clit. I trembled, instantly tense with need, grinding back against her.

She turned me over onto my back, straddling my hips. Her smile was tight and self-assured, satisfied by how I squirmed under her touch. Settling between my knees, she held me open, stroking once from entrance to clit. "Funny. It's smaller than my exes, but just as sensitive."

I flushed bright, furious red, unsure whether to be insulted or not. Her fingers slipped inside me with no resistance. A choke caught in my throat as she took her time, sinking in until she was buried up to the knuckle.

In the semidarkness, when I was on top, there was some measure of control still. Here I couldn't really move unless I wanted to buck her off, and I didn't, not at all. I reached up, tentative all of a sudden, and not liking the distance between us as much as she seemed to. So I whispered for her to come closer, bringing her mouth to mine for another sweet kiss.

"Why'd you get so wet?" she asked, lips brushing against mine so every idle shift meant we were kissing again. "I've barely started."

Another moment when my normally chatty nature would have been very helpful. But I was tongue-tied, too embarrassed to admit she'd humiliated me a little, whether she meant to or not. "You were talking about some other girl," I admitted in a mumble, the tips of my ears still hot.

Her grin widened, less predatory, more gleeful. "Want to hear more?"

There were too many conflicting emotions. I had to admit, the strongest one was desperate curiosity. Anybody I know? I wanted to ask, but I didn't actually want to know. But I was relieved. She could have gotten someone else if she wanted someone else. But then that thought made me bitterly jealous. "Yeah."

"My first girlfriend was like me," she said, working me slowly, building me up so she could knock me down. "More paranoid, maybe. We always used protection, and the habit carried over when I started seeing other people..." Her nose crinkled, some old memory making her flush and laugh. "I feel like she trained me to get turned on when I smelled latex."

We both started giggling, petering off into soft gasps. After the previous night, I thought I might be too raw to go one more time. It came in a low rush, heat pooling out. Ruby sighed in relief, lying on top of me, letting her fingers rest inside until the last echoes faded away.

I'd been burned alive. Everything left over after that was too tired to fight whatever this was.

Kissing her deeply, I tried to pull her into my arms, but she started wriggling against my attempt to get her down.

"Let me be the big spoon!" she whined, flutter-kicking me a few times until I relented. She huffed, putting her arm back where it was around my chest and pushing her head into my hair, which had to look like a bird's nest at this point.

"Sorry, sorry. Habit, I guess. My girlfriends are usually shorter than you."

Ruby grumbled. "I know."

I sputtered in laughter to hear a familiar, sour note of jealousy. Ruby responded by biting my shoulder, hard enough to leave another mark. A quick glance in the mirror earlier that morning had confirmed I was painted black and blue, purple promising to turn seasick-green as the week stretched on.

My emotions were still seesawing. Grim, gnawing horror bubbled up underneath it all, no matter how desperately I tried to beat it back down. "We probably shouldn't be laughing about this. If we ever want to..."

Her body pressed against mine, chest jumping in a short huff. "We're murderers on the run, Yang. If you want to pretend we'll ever be able to go back to any kind of normal life, that's on you."

After a moment, I noticed my scroll blinking. It was on silent, so I didn't know how long it'd been begging for my attention. Dread made everything heavy for a moment until I saw it was a message from the delivery person, not any of our bosses. So I gingerly slipped out of Ruby's grasp, reaching for a shirt before she took my wrist.

It was a frightened touch, her eyes staring at a spot on my floor with a vivid, blank panic.

I knew she would never apologize for what she just said. That she didn't think an apology would be needed for telling the truth, even if it hurt me.

But still, I could see her pulse jumping in her neck, even from where I stood above her.

"I'm just going out for a smoke," I reassured her, petting her hair to let her know I wasn't mad.

I paid for lunch without telling Ruby, knowing she would want to fight me over the bill. We were always fighting over shit like that, I realized, staying outside a while longer. The pizza boxes rested on the steps just outside the bar, next to my feet, and I stared up at the clear sky. When the ashes threatened to hit my lips I let it drop, crushing it under the toe of my boot. She wouldn't want me smoking inside.

We were always fighting over stupid shit like that.

Ruby was waiting in the kitchen when I came back, wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of boxers. Her hair stuck up every which way, like a flock of birds that didn't know in which direction to take flight, and her eyes were still sealed shut with sleep.

"Coffee?" I offered.

"Maybe I should have tea or something instead," she said, but didn't sound very convinced by her own statement. Effortlessly we slipped right back into that comfortable domestic life I'd grown accustomed to. We spoke softly, returning back to the matter of that suitcase full of Dust.

"I might have a buyer lined up," I said. "But you can have half for your projects, if you want it." We'd worked up a ferocious appetite, but Ruby paused to look up at me with wide, surprised eyes. "I know you're always in need of some."

"Huh." She sat back, thinking hard. Idly, one hand reached up under her own shirt. I could see fresh bandages, and her hand stroking them to reassure herself they were still there.

But before she could answer, our scrolls both started chirping like mad. Focus slammed down like a steel door, and Ruby answered it in a flash. Already undressing, she was in her uniform by the time I finished my own conversation with Melanie.

"I have—"

We both started, then stopped. Grinning sharply, Ruby arched an eyebrow and tilted her head back, her chin jutting out in an invitation for me to go first.

"Work," I said, lifting up my scroll. Unlike Ruby, I didn't need to wear that stupid suit or vest combo, and my leather jacket and jeans would suffice. "Need a ride?"

Ruby nodded, then arched up on the tips of her toes to kiss my lips. She stepped back, straightening out her tie and slipping on her sunglasses, combing her hair as she ran out the door.

I watched her go. Even if she hadn't needed me, I would have felt a powerful urge to chase her, grab her before she left me, before I lost her.

I couldn't lose her again.

I couldn't ever let something hurt her again the way the crack-it had.

Letting out a huge breath, I centered my thoughts. Then I grabbed my motorcycle keys and ran downstairs, where she was waiting for me.