“You really do look awful, you know.”

Gavrail looked up at Sveta from where he sat next to the small brazier she kept to warm her room and watched his friend run a comb through her silky, jet-black hair.

A day had passed since gang’s dust-up in the Red Bird and it was the end of Sveta’s working day in the brothel, which meant it was quite late at night. Gav had gotten out of the fight mostly unscathed, but the nasty bruise Hastur had given him the day before that was in the swollen, nasty purple-green phase that looked even worse than it felt.

“Trust me, I know,” he groused and slouched down in the chair he’d claimed. Gavrail reached up and flinched at the lightest touch to his chin then sighed and turned to look at her. “Least nothing was broken. Zelimir think’s he’s got two busted ribs.”

The young woman scoffed and flicked her long hair back over her shoulder then put her comb down on the dresser. “He always was a whiner— they’re probably just bruised.”

Sveta’s room at the Black Swan, one of Ashtown’s nicer brothels, was small but tidy and well kept, she saw to that. It’d been quite barren when she’d first started but a steady stream of income as a brothel girl meant she didn’t just get to eat everyday, but she had enough left over to decorate and settle into the space she’d been afforded. Gav knew she was hoping to scale up to one of the larger rooms soon, though that would only happen if she became requested frequently enough by clients.

He missed getting to see Sveta every day, the way they had when they’d been in a gang together, but looking at her now there was no denying she was looking a lot healthier than she had been. Gavrail knew that very fact troubled her sometimes— she’d admit it herself when she was deep enough in her cups, constantly reminded that her brother might have survived if she’d started sooner. She’d been afraid of leaving her brother alone for long stretches of time, though, young as he was, so she’d stuck with the gang and paid for it in the end.

“I don’t know, this Hastur guy is… something else. Ryoko said he used to be Red Guard until he freaked and left or something.”

Intrigued, Sveta raised her brows and joined him by the brazier. “Seriously?” she asked and looked thoughtful when Gav nodded. They sat and watched ash fall outside her window for a time and Gavrail let her think. She’d always been one of the smartest members of the gang (which was probably why she’d left) and he’d long since learned to pay attention when she gave advice. “You said he wanted to talk to you and Jasna, right? You think he wants to recruit you? Start his own gang?”

“Probably. That’d be my guess anyways, considering he’s doing protection for the Red Bird now and he said he had a job offer for us.”

Sveta turned her gaze from the window and back to Gavrail. “You should join him, then, if he offers.”

Gavrail grimaced at the suggestion but didn’t reject it outright. He tugged absently at one of his locks and asked, “You really think so? Jasna might just kick my ass for suggesting it. Zelimir definitely will.”

“It’s your only option, isn’t it? There’s no way White Street will accept you after getting your entire racket ruined by one guy, ex-Red Guard or not. Plenty of people witnessed it too since he pushed you out into the street to fight, so chances are none of the other gangs around here will take you either.”

Sveta spelled it out so plainly it became obvious what had happened and Gavrail wondered how he hadn’t come to the same conclusion sooner himself. “You think he did this on purpose? Pissed Jasna off, got me to egg her on, then made it so he’d be the only one that would ever accept us?” he asked, infuriated at the thought. He’d already assumed that Hastur had used him to egg Jasna into attacking him in the Red Bird where he’d stand a fighting chance on familiar ground, but for it all to be a set-up…

His friend shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile, but she seemed more impressed than angry. “It’s what I would do if I wanted to start a gang but didn’t have anything but my strength to work with. Assuming I was as strong as him, obviously.”

Gavrail groaned loudly and dragged his hands down his face then thrashed his legs so the heels of his boots thumped against the floorboards, frustration at being thoroughly outplayed overtaking him. “And you want me to work for a guy like that?!”

“It’s a gang, Gav, why wouldn’t you want to work for a guy like that?”

It pricked his pride, but Gavrail knew she was right. Someone who could plan ahead and manipulate things to their benefit was who you needed in a leadership position if you wanted to gang to last in Ashtown. Raw strength and numbers wouldn’t do it, no matter what Zelimir liked to insist.

“Besides, if he’s willing to snatch up a greenhorn gang like you guys so fast, he must be pretty desperate too.”

“Thanks,” Gavrail drawled and sighed, frustration seeping out of him as he started actually considering their options. Sveta was right, like she usually was— Hastur had managed to outplay them but it was obvious he didn’t have a lot to his name or he wouldn’t be living out of an inn in Ashtown, which meant this was the most leverage they’d likely ever against a more experience ganger willing to take them under their wing. “Jas is gonna kill me for suggesting we go along with it,” he remarked even as he resigned himself to doing just that.

“You’re the only one left with any brains left in the gang, she knows that.”

“That’s a scary thought, don’t say that,” Gavrail grumbled and forced himself up out of his chair. The ash had stopped falling outside and he’d be in danger of running into the wrong side of morning if he stayed much longer. Loud, indistinguishable chatter from outside drew his attention, though, and he started towards the door, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the source before he walked into it blind.

“What is it?” Sveta asked and follow him out the door of her room and into the open air hallway beyond where they could look down into the brothel’s interior courtyard. The whole two-story building revolved around it, and most of the rooms faced out onto the enclosed space. Someone had tried to start a little garden at its center at some point, but ash and lack of care had left only one thin sort of tree and a few scrubby bushes that flowered only occasionally in spring.

There were people arguing down on the first floor and one, a large, powerful looking woman at a glance, pushed a man and then left in a hurry before either Sveta or Gav could catch what they had been fighting about.

“I thought I heard Sveta working late but it was just you, huh?” a male voice asked from the open door of the next room over.

“What was all that noise, Dmitri?” Sveta asked, ignoring her co-worker’s question so Gav opted to do the same.

The man was barely dressed and smoking a long, thin pipe while he leaned against the frame of his door. He was quite short, shorter than Sveta even, with a muscular build he obviously worked hard to maintain, and fair, curly hair that seemed permanently tousled, but in an inexplicably sexy way. Long lashes that framed sultry blue-hazel eyes and full lips that parted just so when he exhaled a cloud of smoke combined to paint an altogether lovely portrait.

Gavrail had met Dmitri a number of times but never quite knew what to make of the man beyond acknowledging that he was stunningly handsome. Sometimes he seemed annoyed by Gavrail’s presence in the brothel, other times he seemed quite keen on getting to know more about him. Either way, while it was Gav’s instinct to throw down the proverbial gauntlet with the man, he refrained for Sveta’s sake, not wanting to hurt her chances of moving up in the rankings just because he couldn’t get along with one of her co-workers.

Dmitri pushed away from his door and came to lean against the balcony railing next to Gavrail, robe sliding free of his shoulders to bathe his skin in pale moonlight that poured through the opening in the roof over the courtyard. In such lighting (in most lighting, really) Gav couldn’t help but think Dmitri was prettier than most girls he knew, but he refrained from saying as much aloud. Chances were the sex worker would only laugh at him.

“Dal was on a rampage. Friend of hers that used to work here died and I think her kid got snatched by some creep. Gods only know why but she’s making it the whole gang’s problem.”

“Weird to see her so mad,” Gavrail mused with a frown while he leaned over the balcony despite there being little to see by that point. Dal was something of a legend in Ashtown as the head of the Rosethorn gang. They weren’t a large group, nor did they control a significant span of territory in the city, but they were notoriously tough and specialized in running security for the better brothels in Ashtown, the Black Swan included. Brothels under their protection tended to be popular among sex workers and customers alike as the Rosethorns (or Thorns, for short) were very strict peace-keepers that didn’t hesitate to kick unruly elements to the curb, often with a few broken bones for their trouble.

Sveta nodded her agreement then glanced at Dmitri. “Who was the friend? Anyone I know?”

The man shook his head and looked up at the sky where some stars were still visible. “Nah, she was before your time. She left five or six years ago when she got knocked up and decided she wanted to keep the baby.”

They were all quiet for a while. The story was a common enough one, especially in Sveta and Dmitri’s line of work, though none of them were so far from childhood that they couldn’t sympathize with the missing child, Sveta in particular.

“Poor Dal. I hope she finds them…”