"She'll only use you, Belimai. As soon as you're too worn out or old, she'll let the Inquisition have you," Harper said.

"I worked for the Crone after I was first released from the Inquisition. She took good care of me then." Belimai's tone was oddly flat. "I'm accused of murdering a lord's niece. The Inquisition isn't going to just stop looking for me, and I can't hide in the clouds for the rest of my life. But the Crone has connections. If anyone can get a Prodigal out of the capital, she can. I'll just have to do a couple jobs for her first. Nothing I haven't done before." Belimai pulled free of Harper's grip. He gave Harper a short, forced smile.

"I guess we should call this goodbye—" Belimai began.

"Like hell." Harper grabbed Belimai at the waist and flung him up over his shoulder. Then he turned with Belimai and walked away from the rotting ship.

"Harper." Belimai hung limply against Harper's back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What I damn well should have done from the start," Harper snapped. "I didn't run myself half to death just to hand you over to the Butcher Street Crone. I came to save your life, and no matter what you want, that's what I'm going to do."

"Harper, if you're caught with me—"

"Shut up." Harper didn't want to hear why he shouldn't be doing what he was doing. He knew the reasons well enough.

"At least put me down," Belimai demanded. "If anything is going to make an Inquisitor notice us, this is it."

"You are not going to work for the Crone," Harper stated flatly.

"All right. Just let me down."

Harper decided to oblige Belimai, partly because they looked conspicuous, but mainly because he was too tired to carry Belimai any farther. Harper set Belimai on his feet and then leaned back against a cannery wall. The slight overhang of its roof sheltered him from the rain. Belimai joined him against the wall.

"If you're found out helping me, they'll skin you alive," Belimai said.

"I'm thinking," Harper replied. He stared out at the sky.

He couldn't just take Belimai back to his house. His upstanding neighbors would report it in a matter of hours. Belimai would be safest outside the city, but every road and pier had checkpoints. The normal security would be intensified after a murder. Even Prodigals with special passes to leave the capital would be held back tonight. By morning, word would have spread, and even the lax security allowed for wealthy travelers would be tightened.

He wished he had a cigarette and dry feet.

"If this damn rain just would let up..." Harper muttered, as if all their troubles could be blamed on the weather.

"It's worse up high." Belimai gazed up into the dark clouds. Reflections of bursting lightning flickered across his yellow eyes.

"Is that where you went when they broke in your door?"

"Of course. As soon as I heard the wood crack, I was out the window. With the weather like this, there was no chance they could catch me in a net." Belimai frowned slightly. "But even I can't stay up there all the time. I nearly froze."

Harper considered hiding Belimai in Hells Below. Joan would take Belimai if Harper asked her to, he was sure of that. She might have changed her name, but she was still Harper's sister. But Hells Below was the first place anyone would look for a fugitive Prodigal. Also, Nick Sariel was there. Harper didn't like the idea of Belimai and Nick becoming reacquainted. Harper gazed at Belimai's sharp features. No, he didn't like the thought of Belimai and Sariel living together in Good Commons at all.

"That is my cap you're wearing, isn't it?" Harper asked.

"You left it after that first night you spent with me." Belimai pushed the brim up a little so that it didn't cover so much of his face. "I thought it would be best if they didn't find any of your things in my rooms."

"Smart." Harper stepped back from Belimai, studying his slim figure. The rain had soaked Belimai's navy coat to black. Between that and the cap, he could have been mistaken for an Inquisitor. No one catching sight of his black fingernails or yellow eyes would be fooled, but there were ways of hiding both.

"Should I ask what you're planning?" Belimai inquired.

"That would ruin the surprise," Harper replied. "Hold this, will you?"

Harper pulled off his coat and handed it to Belimai. The wind sliced through Harper's wet clothes and sent shivers rushing over his skin. Quickly he unbuttoned his uniform jacket and peeled it off. He handed it to Belimai.

"Is this a plan that involves us warming each other with our naked bodies?" Belimai gave Harper a lewd smile.

"Maybe later." Harper unclipped his stiff priest's collar and then fitted it around Belimai's throat.

Belimai arched a black brow at him.

"Now, put on my uniform jacket," Harper said.

"You have to be joking," Belimai said.

"I'm not," Harper replied.

Belimai shrugged and put on Harper's jacket. It wasn't a perfect fit, but the dark coat disguised the discrepancies. Belimai's thin frame became a solid black form from which the two silver Inquisitor's emblems and the white priest's collar stood out sharply.

"You almost look good enough to salute." Harper took his heavy green coat back from Belimai and put it on quickly.

"What about these?" Belimai held up his hands. His black nails caught the light of a distant gas lamp like obsidian.

"Gloves." Harper began peeling his off. "They worked for my sister and stepfather for years; there's no reason they shouldn't work for you."

"Just a minute." Belimai pulled a jack knife out of his boot and flipped the blade open. Instinctively, Harper flinched. It had nothing to do with Belimai; only the speed of his movement and the razor edge of the knife blade.

Belimai sliced through the curve of his thumbnail and then continued cutting the rest of his nails down to the tips of his fingers. The knife only slipped once when a tremor passed through Belimai's hand. The blade sank down into the side of his finger and bright red blood welled up.

"Fuck," Belimai snarled.

"Is it bad?" Harper caught Belimai's hand to inspect the cut.

"No," Belimai replied. "I'm just starting to get the shakes."

"You should've had me do it." Harper squeezed the cut, trying to stop the bleeding. Belimai hissed at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Stopping the bleeding. You apply pressure," Harper said.

"What kind of cretin are you? Haven't you ever heard of kissing it and making it better?"

"You have to be joking," Harper replied.

"No, it works. You put it in your mouth and suck on it."

"I thought only children did that." Harper started to laugh, then noticed Belimai's narrowed eyes. "All right then, I'll do it if you'd like."

He pressed his lips against Belimai's finger and then gently kissed the small cut. A little of Belimai's blood slipped between his lips.

It was hot and tasted sharp, as if it had been mixed with wine. As he swallowed, Harper felt a burning trail slide down his throat. Heat flooded his stomach and sank deep into his groin. It washed outward through the muscles of his arms and legs.

Harper drew in a breath of the cold air. The scents offish and cats, of machine grease and his own pungent sweat, rolled through his lungs. He felt currents of wind twist and flow over him as if they were ribbons that he could catch in his hands.