Ash was bleeding all over the cloth sack. He swore, shifting the supply of ration bars to his other arm.

He hadn’t heard from Kara in a few days, and he was starting to get nervous.

After she had left with Clara, Ash decided to let the mansion ruins cool down before beginning the clean-up. Funerals for the dead took place as the embers died, including Clara’s. He’d told her coworkers she had succumbed to smoke inhalation after her rescue. Only her brother knew the truth. With luck, he’d be able to resurrect her soon.

Curious about the machine the girl had been building, Ash had salvaged the parts in the hope others could reconstruct it. He ended up slicing his hand open on one of the razor-sharp cylinders spared by the flames.

It could have been worse. His hand would heal. And at least he wouldn’t have to regrow any fingers. That would have taken forever.

No further disaster had struck the city, which meant Kara had been correct. Clara had been their Firehorse.

Kara needs to tell me how she does that. And how she grows food in the wasteland. But his miracle maker was like an absentee fairy godmother. No wishes would be granted until she was damn well good and ready.

Reminding himself Kara had almost as many responsibilities as he did, he crossed the catacomb entrance threshold, jogging inside a few hundred meters to deposit the sack. One of their scavengers would find it. Ash would deliver it himself, but he’d vowed to wait until Kara came to collect the prisoners. It would be better if she came to him. Then he might have some leverage to bargain with her.

Meanwhile, he had a city to run.

Ash spent the next few hours flying all over town. He loaded grain in the field onto carts and oversaw the delivery to the mill. Then he helped one of the schools repair their roof.

The perfunctory tasks didn’t bother him as much as they usually did. Having hope again did wonders for his attitude. Ash even caught himself whistling once or twice.

His last task of the day was actually his favorite—overseeing the night men. There were dozens of them. Night men carried the city’s waste out to the fields to act as fertilizer. It was meant to be a temporary fix to compensate for the lack of plumbing in town. Temporary had become an institution, though he was still hoping to remedy that.

When the axle on one of the waste carts broke, he held up the bed of the foul transport so they could fix it without having to dump the load.

“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said the city’s warden visits in person every month, has for years,” one of the men told him.

“The night men and women provide an invaluable service, one the city needs,” Ash replied, clapping the man on the back. “It’s Samuel, right? How is the family?”

“Not bad, not bad. Better since Klein is out of office in this district. He was an ass.”

This was news. “I thought he was popular in these parts.”

Klein had taken his cue from Mazarin, doing a lot of bragging about his accomplishments, shaking hands, greasing palms. Whatever it took to make it look like he was doing a great job without actually lifting a finger.

Samuel scoffed. “He wasn’t popular with me. Not with a lot of people. Totally spit on the night men just because we haul people’s shit away.”

The man cackled, showing some missing teeth. “Good rule of thumb, you can’t judge a leader by how he treats the other nobs. You have to look at how they treat the dirt,” he said, spreading his arms wide.

Ash huffed. Now he remembered why this was his favorite task. Samuel and his ilk were such a refreshing change from having to deal with politicians. “Maybe you should think about running to take Klein’s place.”

Samuel’s peal of laughter could be heard across three blocks. The other night men ahead of them on the track to the fields turned around, but kept going with their laden carts when Ash waved them on.

He was warming to the idea. Samuel would make a much better councilman than Klein had ever been. “Think about it. Night men know the city and its people. They even have a good idea of whose eating and what houses aren’t getting their fair share,” he said, nodding at the loaded car. “And personally speaking, an intelligent night man on the council would be preferable than the last lot.”

Ash wasn’t exaggerating. He’d feel cleaner after shaking Samuel’s hand than Mazarin’s.

“I thought there would be no more council,” Samuel said, wrinkling his bulbous nose as they walked along.

Ash shrugged. “I haven’t decided. Maybe temporary appointments or a lottery would be better. But no one serves indefinitely anymore. That was a big mistake.”

Samuel tilted his head as if thinking it over. “Temporary sounds good. Not sure about a lottery. Definitely not sure about me being a councilman. That’s a right stupid idea.”

“I disagree,” Ash echoed, deciding then and there Samuel should be one of the men taking one of those short-term appointments. “Although I’m starting to think the people I want to serve are the least likely to volunteer. Still, why don’t you come see me in Belleville and we can talk more about it?”

Samuel laughed again, but agreed when pressed.

Ash could tell the man didn’t take the offer seriously, but he would eventually. I’ll have Marcus talk him into it, he decided. His aide was much better at that sort of thing than he was.

He returned to his apartments in Belleville just before dawn.

Someone is here. Ash could feel the small disturbance in the air caused by someone breathing. It wasn’t Marcus. His aide was asleep downstairs. Ash could always tell because the vibrations of the man’s snoring traveled up the stairs.

Had a council member hired an assassin? He wouldn’t put it past them. He drew his weapon from its scabbard and stalked into his bedroom, ready to strike—only to be hit by a shoe. Judging from the impact, it was one of his boots.

“Ow. What the hell?” he asked, throwing the offending article aside.

“Where have you been?” Kara hissed. “I’ve been all over this rotten town.”

Ash brightened. “Searching for me?”

Kara threw her arms up in the air, looking as if she wanted to throw something else at him. “No, you ass! I’ve been looking for Theo. You need to help me find him.”

“What’s he doing inside the city?” Ash rubbed his nose. She’d managed to catch him with the heel of his boot. “Of all your band, Theo seemed the most at ease in the wasteland. Why would he come here?”

Kara started pacing. “It has to do with the girl from the fire, Clara. When she first arrived, she was shell-shocked and kept coughing from all the smoke. I left her with Madeleine so she could be examined. I thought it was safe to lead a scavenger team. I didn’t think she was going to be any trouble!”

“And was she?” Kara’s concern was infectious and a bit confusing. Clara was such a little thing. What could she have possibly done? Had he handed over some sort of spy or typhoid Mary to Kara’s band?

Kara held up a hand. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t know Theo knew Claire’s family. She has a brother named George. He and Theo were childhood friends. Claire was going on and on about George getting killed because of her. Theo got all worked up, and came here looking for him. Now I can’t find him.”

She broke off, wringing her hands. “I can’t believe he did this. He knows it’s forbidden—”

Ash patted her back. “He’ll be fine. We’ll find him.”

She waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello! Did you forget Theo’s a Firehorse?”

“But you found a way to neutralize the curse.”

She kicked him. “It’s temporary, you dolt!”

“What?”

Kara released a shaky breath. “I mean, what you think is a cure is not a cure. It’s more like a band-aid.”

“But it stops,” he said, his stomach twisting with nausea angels weren’t supposed to feel. The hope that had been fueling him the last few days was taking a hit.

“If it didn’t, the wasteland would be nothing more than a crater right now. Theo, Madeleine, and little Clara are alive because of you,” he added.

Kara fisted her hands. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “It’s a hack, one that doesn’t work in the city as well as it does in the wasteland. Sooner or later, the curse will reassert itself, and Theo won’t be able to hold it off for long. He doesn’t—he has to be with me.”

Ash could feel his blood pumping faster. Frustration warred with anger. “We are going to find Theo, and then you are going to tell me everything. I need to know how the hell this works.”

She hesitated, jaw tight. “Yes, after we find Theo.”

“Let’s go. We’ll start in Place Léon-Blum. It’s where Clara lived.”

“I tried there already.”

“You didn’t try with me. If there’s a trail, I will find it.”

Clara’s small neat home was simple and clean, full of efficient and innovative touches made by someone who worked and thought about textiles a lot.

Despite being repurposed from rags, the patchwork quilt on the bed was a work of art. The careworn chair cushion had been repaired with enough artistry that it looked better than the original.

There was no sign of either of the young men they were looking for.

“Has Theo been here?” Kara asked.

“I believe so.” There was a hint of something in the air, a damp clay smell. “Someone who has spent a lot of time in the catacombs was here recently.” He paused, bending next to the table to touch the trace of a shoeprint. It looked to be close to Theo’s size.

“Why don’t we—” He broke off, dropping to the floor to press his ear against the floorboards.

Kara knelt, tilting her head. “What is it?”

“Shh.” He held up a hand. That sound he was hearing…

O putain. Ash jumped to his feet. “We have to get out there.”

“Out where?”

“The river. Come on!”