Six months after Yang left me, I received a phone call from our boss.

Junior's voice rumbled low through the speaker of my scroll. The screen flashed his image every time he spoke, the only source of illumination in the darkness. No street lights cast a beam in, no neon signs. I had special curtains to block out everything, and sound proof walls. There would be no living in the place otherwise; one of the downsides of living in an apartment above a nightclub, I suppose.

"Newbie, I need someone to drive my friend around."

That's how this started.

Still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I mumbled something to let him know I was listening. "Details please, Junior."

"Her name is Cinder." I glanced over at the clock. Red lines glared back at me, taking a few moments to settle into a real shape. 2AM. "Cinder Fall. She just came in from Vacuo. I want you to drive her wherever she needs to go. Take care of her any way she needs."

I paused. The name sounded the same way it felt to have fingernails dragged down your back, bad light touches. Uncomfortable and disoriented, I slid out of bed. The sheets tangled around my legs and waist, clinging to me like a jealous lover. Giving up halfway, I surrendered to the knots and just rolled over onto the floor, my scroll phone pinched between my shoulder and ear.

Cinder Fall was a ghost, almost an urban legend among certain circles. Junior might as well have asked me to go pick up Bloody Mary and take her for a spin. Not in the mood for games, I kept on the line for a few more moments, waiting for Junior to bark in laughter and tell me what he really wanted me to do today.

A small sigh preceding the question let me know his patience was wearing thin. "You still there, Newbie?"

I got up off the floor. "Yeah. So is this a joke, or?"

"No joke."

Well, that piqued my interest. Once I made my way to the kitchen and busied my hands with something, I could think a little clearer. I started up a pot of coffee; Junior continued talking. "I don't know if she's the real Cinder Fall, but that's what she calls herself. In my opinion, with the kind of cash she's flinging around, she could call herself the king of Atlas and I'd say yes ma'am. She's hired our boys in the past, too, so this isn't anything new. This is the first time she's specifically requested a driver, though."

Fair enough. "This day isn't going to end with one of my cars on fire again, is it?"

"Not that kind of driver. Just, bring your nicest car and try to look presentable."

Generally speaking, Junior liked to assign me as a driver. And why not? I had enough cars that it seemed fitting, even if I was better suited to R&D. Not that I was gonna complain. I liked driving. Being in motion was soothing. And hardly anybody was on the roads at this hour.

Pulling up in front of the airport, I got out and found my client. I spotted her before she spotted me. Junior had texted me a photo of her so I knew who to pick up, as well as any other pertinent information. In an instant, I tried to scan as much of her as I could. 5'5", somewhere between 140 and 150 pounds, no weapons on her. A cigarette between her lips and two more already dead at her heels.

Whatever she expected to come out of that driver's seat, it wasn't me. Something about me arrested her attention at once, made her do a double take. The instant I walked round the car to open up the passenger door for her, I could almost hear how all her attention cracked onto me, jagged as a lightning bolt.

It was the first time I felt the full force of her eyes. It never got any easier to bear as the years went on.

She pulled her cigarette away from her lips, smoke trailing from the lit end and between her lips as she spoke around it.

"And just who are you?" she said, grinning thinly, just a small flash of her teeth. I'm not sure what was so entertaining about me, but she seemed only just barely holding it together. "Are you sure you have the right address, driver?"

Well, there weren't too many ways to respond to that.

"...Yes?" I ventured, before respectfully adding, "Ma'am. I'm your driver, Junior called for me."

Shaking her head imperceptibly, she let the cigarette drop from her fingers, not bothering to crush it. She swept past me, settling into the car, and I gently closed the door behind her. "Are you even old enough to drive?" she chided.

I remember thinking then that Cinder seemed very familiar, that perhaps we had met before and that's why she was so shocked to see me. It wouldn't be that surprising if our paths had crossed once or twice and I simply didn't recall it.

Maybe I'd just made an impression on her.

Irked, I pulled out my wallet and flipped it open, pressing it against the window so she could see my driver's license. That made her laugh. Then I stamped out the embers she had left behind before returning to my side of the car.

Cinder didn't wear her seatbelt; I struggled not to snap at her for it. What was the point of being someone's bodyguard if they wound up dying in some stupid, meaningless way like a car accident? I couldn't protect the woman from inertia, for goodness' sake. All I could do was to drive a little more careful.

All through the drive she continued to make rude eyes at me, engaging small talk.

"Old enough to drive," she said. "But not old enough to drink." She lounged sideways in her seat, back pressed to the door and legs curled up underneath her. Her modesty was saved only by the fact that she wore tight, black shorts underneath the crushed red velvet of her dress. "I really only needed a driver, you know. But Junior and I go way back. I guess he felt like throwing in something extra for friendship."

'Something extra' sat in the backseat, fiddling with the gun I built for her. Another member of the crew, her name was Violet. We had never worked together before but I knew her by the roman numerals she etched into her gun barrels. I built most of Junior's weapons, for extra money and for fun. People knew to come for me if their gear needed tweaking.

My eyes flicked over to Cinder, studied her hands. Even the rich can't hide how many years can collect around your knuckles, skin tight against the bones where it should be loose, and sagging where it should be tight. Lots of people doctor their face, but the hands don't lie.

Her hands said she was very young. Possibly still in her twenties, maybe I could see pushing thirty if she took care of herself. A tobacco stain here and there solidified it as a long-standing habit, but my nose had already told me that much.

"Really?" I said, grip tightening on the wheel. "I've never seen you around the bar."

I'd remember someone like her.

"Can you put your seatbelt on?" I said at last, just out of hope that it would get her to sit straight, not pointing her whole body at me.

Her response was immediate. "I thought I hired Junior's people to take orders."

"You hired me to protect you." At the next stop light I reached over, pushing her into a better position before I yanked the seatbelt down. She didn't resist.

We drove further into the city in short time, streets empty due to the hour. I expected a bit more to greet us than a dirty stoop. People should still be stumbling home after the bars closed, unfortunate pet owners walking their dog, a homeless person, something. But the street I parked in was ghostly.

"Thanks for the lift, Ruby. Wait for us here?" She put a hand on my shoulder, trailing it down my arm. The light caress made my skin crawl, gooseflesh rising up on the back of my neck.

The tension spiked. "I never told you my name."

Cinder winked at me. "It was on your driver's license."

Red-faced, I just unlocked the doors and kept my gaze straight ahead as Cinder and the other guard, Viola, left. Wait. No. Violet, her name was Violet. Names were difficult. But she was Junior's crew and so I trusted her to do the job right, especially such a straightforward job: Take Cinder to this location and make sure she leaves in one piece. Unless she had an angry stalker ex-boyfriend or something, it should have been a piece of cake.

Getting out of the car to stretch my legs, I dug my hands deep inside my pockets, finding my spinner ring. I'd taken to wearing gloves recently, and the ring didn't fit over the leather. It was a fidget tool I kept on hand for moments like this, easing any anxiety if I felt I failed or missed some critical social cue. Or if I had to suppress the urge to throttle a client.

Strnn strnn strnn.

The steel grated. Perched on the hood of my car, I wondered how long Cinder would take, what business she had in a slum like this. I should have asked her. There had to be a 24 hour place nearby. If I left and grabbed a coffee, would it be noticed? A headache was beginning to form behind my eyes, and something sweet and heavily caffeinated would do a lot to boost my mood.

More than anything else, I couldn't get over how quiet everything was. An odd client, a vague job, a bad neighborhood, it all left me pretty spooked.

So when I heard a hollow thump ring out from the building next to me- TNNK- I near jumped out of my skin.

It sounded like glass. Something striking a window. Planting my feet on the ground, I hopped off my car and went to the source of the noise. It was rhythmic, now, a thumping in the building where Cinder had vanished into. And then it came again, louder than the first time. Hollow, insistent. Activity near one of the ground floor apartment windows. There was something terrible about it, dreadful and familiar, and it didn't click until I looked in through the window and a corpse stared back at me.

A Scab.

It slammed its head against the glass, an open wound bleeding pitch black on its forehead from where repeated striking had ruptured flesh. At the sight of me, it grew more frequent, hitting harder with the full force of its body as it tried to reach me.

Cold sweat running down the back of my neck, I pulled out my scroll and dialed the Purge hotline.

A very friendly, though decidedly professional voice answered the call.

"This is the Center for Research and Containment of Extra-Monarchical Threats. Please state the nature of your emergency."

"Yes," I said, not breaking eye contact with the Scab. It scrabbled at the window, remembering it had hands, remembering how they were used to get past barriers. The thing couldn't have been more than two hours old. "There's a uh, there's a Scab in my neighbor's apartment."

A faint note of alarm threaded through the woman's voice. "Are you in a safe location, ma'am?"

I unfastened the knife at my hip, grabbing onto the hilt tightly. "Yes."

"Have you been bitten?"

"No. But I can't speak for anyone else who might be in the building." Giving her the address before she asked for it, I pulled the knife free from its holster. "Are there any huntresses in the area?"

"None in that postal code, but we're sending out a Purge team at once. I need you to stay in your safe location and minimize any noise-"

I hung up.

Heading to the front entrance to the building, I tested the door handle, swinging it open as slow as I could manage. Streetlight cast my silhouette on the floor, tall and thin as a needle. I waited a few heartbeats; silence. I was still on the job, and Cinder was somewhere inside. Scabs never infected just one person. If she was still alive I needed to get her the hell out of here- but I'd need to clear a path first, most likely.

The foyer seemed clear, though I could already hear the Scab in the ground floor apartment starting to get frisky. As more time passed, the smarter she would get; I gave her forty minutes before she remembered how to use doors.

How far up did I need to go? Or was Cinder on the ground floor as well? Pulling open my scroll again with my knife in the other hand, I dialed the number Junior had given me.

Immediately, Cinder picked up. She didn't sound happy about it. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"The driver. You're not safe. Tell me what room you're in, I'm coming to get you."

A moment of tense silence. "6B." Great. High up. The stairs moved in a square pattern, coiling up with a landing halfway between every floor. My feet were quiet as a huntress's, though I trembled faintly from the effort. "What's going on?"

"Scabs in the building. Whatever you do, keep quiet." I licked my lips. "Stay on the line. Is there anyone in the room with you?"

There was a rustle through the speaker, the sound of breathing against the receiver. "Just your co-worker."

Finding apartment 6B, I said, "I'm outside. Let me in and I'll escort you down."

"I'm not so sure that would be wise."

The door squeaked open, hinges loud, too loud. Sweat built up on my forehead; hanging up, I wiped it away and stepped inside to see Cinder, Violet, and an eviscerated human body tied up to a chair in the living room.

It was a man, I think. I didn't look at it too long. The blood on his chest, spilled from an open throat, was fresh enough to still be red. That headache that had been building up spiked, a jab of pain piercing through my skull and my ribs at the same time. Junior's people and the ones who hired us weren't always upstanding citizens, but we never killed anyone. There were rules in place, standards. We followed those standards because that was what kept us professional. Otherwise there was nothing that separated us from the gangs.

"What's this about Scabs?!" Violet had her red shades off, tucked into the front of her vest pocket. Sweat stains darkened the black fabric, she looked half as fucked up as I felt.

Before anything else I shushed her, moving up close to hiss at her. "Keep your voice down."

Her jaw clamped shut, eyes wide. But she nodded.

On the other hand, Cinder looked so cool I wondered if she even had a pulse. All the flirtatiousness I'd seen in the car had vanished, no more bratty smiles and probing questions. Her eyes bored into me, cold and flat and unyielding. "Don't worry," she said, "The body was here when we arrived."

Pocketing my scroll, I kept one hand in my pocket to fiddle with the spinner ring. "I'm sure that's going to fly over real well with the Purge team headed to our location." Skrrn skrrn skrrn. "Is that thing clean?" I added, nodding to the body. "This area is already infested. The last thing we need is him catching it and waking up."

God, this was a nightmare.

"I don't know," Cinder said, "I've never dealt with a situation quite like this before."

Violet threw her hands up. "Do I look like a huntress?"

Fury made me wordless. Fury at their incompetence, at the fact that they were linked to me. I didn't need to have my name associated with what looked to be a torture victim stinking up the living room. I brushed past them into the kitchen, glad to know my hands weren't shaking just yet. Following me, Cinder kept her voice low as I rummaged underneath the sink and through the cupboards. Minding my warning to be quiet. "What do you need?"

"Fire should do it." I was on all fours, head lowered as I peered underneath the dark cabinets. Not a single flammable liquid in the whole place. Maybe there would be something in the bathroom? "Got a match? Or, preferably, a can of gasoline and a flamethrower?"

Cinder held out one hand, palm up. In a heartbeat, a gout of flame rose up from the center of her palm, needle-thin and bright as a blowtorch. It took me by surprise; I knew some laymen cultivated their aura into a specialized power, but by and large that was something you only learned in hunting school.

The kitchen floor was cool under my hands. I focused on that, the sensation of my own body. Here, real. Grounded in reality.

Don't panic. Do not panic.

"Is that going to be enough to burn a body?" I asked her once my breathing became more level. "Like, to ashes."

She flashed me a smile, the charm put into it out of place given our current predicament. "Oh, yes."

"Can you…" I looked over my shoulder. From this angle, I could only see a small slice of the living room. Violet paced in and out of view, gun in hand. "Who… Who is that? The dead guy?"

"I don't know," Cinder said again. "This apartment belongs to a friend of mine. I expected to find him here, not a crime scene." After a beat, she added, "I think he might be dead as well. Either way, I know he's not responsible for this."

A crash downstairs made me jump. Ground Floor had forced her way out of her room- or maybe someone else, someone who had been infected sooner. We waited a few more moments in silence, nerves on fire. At this point it might be a better idea to stay locked up in here until the Purge team rolled through.

But we couldn't be found here with the thing, either. "If we torch the body, we can just say he was a Scab. Lucky for us, we've got a handy infestation downstairs that might make our story credible."

"Lucky us."

About to say something else, I'm cut short by a scream from the living room. It ripped through the silence, four gunshots roaring right after the other. On my feet in a flash and stumbling into the living room, I pulled out my knife and charged up my aura before assessing the situation.

The Scab was loose.