Page 19 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“And you built your own runic.” She shakes her head. “Where’d you get the sigils?”

“There’s plenty of sigils in the junk that rains down from the Asshole.”

She gives a startled laugh, which makes me flush a little more.

“What?” I demand again.

“Nothing.” She wipes her eyes. “I’ve just never heard anyone call it that. It’s very apt.”

“I think that’s enough questions.” I shouldn’t have talked to her this long. It’s not like me to go stupid over a pretty face. “Get back on the bed and stay there, and I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

Start gathering what you can, I tell Star. We need to get out of here.

[Agreement: taken too long already.]

“Wait,” she says. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s your name?”

“Why the fuck would I possibly tell you that?”

“True,” she says, head cocked as though she’d just considered that. “Listen. I’m Ky. Kycilea. I have an idea.”

“I don’t care.”

“Your runic. Do you think you could make it bigger? And… fightier?” She raises her arms, mimicking a monster. “It’s so fast. And the way it climbed me—I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“What part of I don’t care do you not understand?”

“Just listen. I have an idea.” She jumps up from the bed and grabs my arm. “A crazy stupid idea that could make us both a lot of money.”

With a skitter of tiny legs, Star is between us, blades out. The girl takes a step back, but her eyes are gleaming wildly and her hand is still outstretched.

“Come on,” she says. “Think of it as… as a job offer. It’ll pay better than robbing this place, I promise, and I won’t have to—” She cuts off abruptly and shakes her head. “At least hear me out?”

For a moment I’m tempted. Stupid, I know, but I don’t get a lot of pretty girls offering me money. It’s a new experience. Then reality reasserts itself. I need to get out of here, and this girl is at least half-mad. Whatever her scheme is, it’s more likely to get me locked up than paid off.

“I’m here to rob you, remember?” I tell her, and pluck the sigwork lamp from her hand. “Not looking for work.”

“But—”

My gaze falls on the sword lying at our feet. It’s sigwork, too, and in the light I can see the blade is delicately engraved and chased with gold. It might be worth more than everything I’ve stuffed in my bag put together.

She follows my gaze, and her face pales.

“My father gave me that,” she says quietly. “When I was twelve years old.”

I snatch it up. “I’m sure he’ll buy you another one.”

“Wait.” She grabs for me again, but Star intercepts her. I move to the window. “Please.”

“Kycilea, was it?”

She nods eagerly, long hair rustling. “You can call me Ky.”

“Well, Ky.” I smile and bow with a theatrical flourish. “I’m sorry about your sword. And your window.”

I hit the latter with the former, and it breaks in a shower of glass. I jump through, one hand slapping against the side of the house before I can fall. The BIND gloves stick me in place. Star follows at an easy scuttle as I edge sideways. Ky leans out, looking straight down into the darkened alley, and misses us entirely.

“You could have just opened it, you know,” she calls after me. “They don’t lock.”