Chapter 12 · Bonewhisper Names Her Price

Shana stood in the doorway with the second vial between her thumb and forefinger. This one was bigger. Fuller. The blood inside caught the lamplight and threw red shadows across her knuckles.

"That was dramatic," Shana said. She didn't look at the glass shards on the floor. Didn't look at Lira, either. Just at Alto. "I always bring a spare."

Alto's ribs still ached from the fight. His breath came short. The cut on his palm where Shana had drawn the blood three days ago had scabbed over, but now it itched like it remembered the blade.

"You can't—" Lira started.

"Can't what?" Shana tilted the vial. The blood inside moved slow, too thick for something that had been sitting in glass for days. "Use it? I already did. That's how I know what he is."

Alto kept his back to the wall. The room was small. A holding cell under the main pit arena, all stone and iron bolts and one door. Shana filled the door. Behind her, the corridor stretched dark except for the torches every ten feet.

"What do you want?" Alto said.

Shana smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.