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Celeste had only been sick a handful of times in her life, with the worst being a bad flu when was 19. She vividly remembered how it had wracked her body, zapping her strength and leaving her feeling as though a thousand hammers had fallen down on her. Even something as simple as lifting a spoon to eat soup had left her exhausted beyond belief. Anything she did eat was tasteless. All she could feel was what she could only describe as a "layer of sick" in her mouth: a slick, slimy feeling that was somehow tasteless and dreadful at the same time. She couldn't have imagined a worse feeling that than.

Until now.

Every fiber of her being had been pulled to its fullest extent, as though placed on a medieval rack. Her face was on fire, cheeks inflamed. Snakes slithered down her spine, coiling around her organs and making their head to her feet before turning around to make the journey back to her head. Speaking of her head: was it even in one piece? Didn't feel like it. It felt like it had been cracked open like a watermelon. Was this what death felt like?

Celeste opened her mouth to ask where she was — if she was even alive — and was surprised when an angel responded.

"You're not dead," it replied. And then, more coyly, "Yet."

Celeste said, "I can't see anything." Or at least, that's what she tried to say. Her voice was muffled, as though she were hearing herself with water in her ears.

"That won't matter if we don't get out of here alive," the angel replied. She knew that voice. Nancy. "Can you see my hand in front of your face?"

Panic rose in her chest. "No." Was she blind? Had the contacts burned out on her retinas? "No," she said again, and this time her answer was punctuated with nervous laughter. She reached out to feel for Nancy's face, but couldn't. Nothing registered beneath her fingertips. "Nancy, I can't feel anything!"

"Calm down! Jesus Christ, are you gonna lose your shit every time something goes wrong?"

Her heart felt like it was going to gallop out of her chest. Pressing her good hand against it, Celeste did her best to calm herself. She told herself every lie she knew: that her black vision was just temporary, that she was in a safe place, that no one would hurt her. That Nancy wouldn't take advantage of her being vulnerable.

Each lie was more laughable than the one before it, but they were enough to calm her nerves. At least for now.

Beyond the rhythmic drumbeat of her heart was a cacophony of sounds both familiar and frightening. Cars sped off in the distance. Sirens called out from far away. Gunshots echoed like tiny thunderclaps. A cat mewed in distress. All of this, beneath a thin layer of static rain.

"We're outside?" Celeste asked. Outside was not safe. Not at this hour. "Near Bhasvah's?"

"An alley, not far away. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"None," Celeste answered. "I can't see a fuckin' thing!" Panic threatened to capsize her mind again. She fed herself another lie — an implant would restore her vision if she were totally blind — and she said again, "Can't see nothin'."

"Is everything pitch black? Or just gray?"

"It's…" She focused in on the darkness. It wasn't as oppressive as it had been a few moments ago. Instead of a thick curtain, it was more like a thin veil. She could see the vague outline of what might have been Nancy's hand.

As curious as she was frightened, Celeste reached out to touch the shape and move it aside. Nothing registered in her nerves, but she saw her own blurry hand move the shape just out of her line of sight.

"Blacks and grays," she answered. The weight on her heart grew a little lighter. "What's that mean?"

"Means you fucked up and did something you shouldn't have," Nancy snapped. "Your brain nearly got fried. Contacts are completely overloaded. It'll take some time for you to see clearly."

"Will my vision be damaged?"

"Not sure. That's a question for Josie, if we find her."

Celeste perked up. For a moment, she forgot all about her blindness. "If?"

She wanted to ask more, but quickly realized how little it mattered. Something had gone terribly wrong, and she needed to get a handle on what, why, and how to fix it. "Are we in danger right now?"

"Not we. You."

"I'm already blind," she snapped. "Stop being so cryptic. You're freaking me out!"

"Bhasvah saw you run out of the house. He's got a whole squad of hired thugs looking for you."

Her tired, panicked mind told her that this was the end of the road. Her place as the manager was gone, her protection stripped away, and now it was just a matter of time before someone killed her.

But something smarter and darker lingered in her soul: a shadow that crept through the passages of her mind, keeping her safe. Whispering logic into her ear. Was she imagining it? Had her exhausted mind conjured an imaginary friend to keep her company?

Whatever the case, the voice was soothing. She listened to it. Repeated what it said.

"We never met in person. My hair was longer in my initial picture. And there's the mask. Am I still wearin' it?"

"I took it off once I found you in the alley, to make sure you were still alive. It's by your side."

"Then he only saw a short-haired girl with a mask runnin' off. Doesn't know it's me." That's of some comfort. Now, for the part that isn't. "What do you mean, 'found me'? Last thing I remember is making it to the tree line."

Nancy chuckled. "You blacked out, then. You made it down to the plaza, nearly a mile away."

That was as relieving as it was troubling. How had she run a mile without remembering? What else had she done that she couldn't remember? Was there a chance she'd removed her mask at any point during that time, or that someone had seen her and pegged her as suspicious?

"I'm guessing reaching Josie is outta the question?"

"You guessed right. Cunt sped away the second things went sideways."

Great. No taxi would pick them up at this hour. Even if it did, there was no telling who was in Bhasvah's good graces, who might be on the lookout for her. They could be hailing their own demise.

"I need to get home, lay low until my mind unscrambles itself. You gonna help me?"

A pause. "I've helped a lot already, I think."

"I know. And I'm grateful. But I need you to do more." The words left her mouth before she realized what she was saying. For the first time since stepping foot in Radiant City, she wasn't asking a question or pleading for an olive branch.

If she didn't get what she wanted here, she was going to die.

"You're not on Bhasvah's payroll," Celeste continued, "and you haven't killed me already, so you know I'm useful to you. All I need is for you to get me home. The only risk to you is if he sees us together, which I'm guessin' is why you haven't put me in your car already."

A gunshot, too nearby for comfort. Celeste blinked instinctively and looked toward a hazy light. A street lamp just outside the alley. Bit by bit, her vision was returning. Now she could see Nancy sitting against the wall next to her, jacket pulled in close. Rather than look toward the exit of the alley, her eyes seemed downcast. Or maybe that was just Celeste's imagination.

"He's got the area locked down for about a mile in diameter." Nancy spat on the ground. "I'm not one of his, so I'm fair game so far as he's concerned. I had to make a show of looking for you so that he'd question if the coincidence was just that. But it's pretty suspicious that his favorite collector made an unannounced visit the same night that someone breaks into his house. He's not an idiot."

"Do you think he'll send someone after you?"

"Not on a hunch, no. But he'll be watching me like a hawk from here on out. I'll have to lay low for a while."

Celeste blinked, trying to chase the darkness away. She squinted her eyes. In the dim light, she could see sadness on Nancy's face.

Collector or not, Nancy's life hadn't been too complicated before tonight. Now she could get caught in the crossfire, all because of her.

Celeste tugged at her collar. "Or not."

Shifting. A movement too small for Celeste to see in the dark, but she could hear just fine. "What do you mean?"

"We get outta here, I disguise myself a bit before my next shift. And we make it known that we're in a partnership. He'll be less likely to track you if he knows we're friends."

"Friends, with a newbie. Oh, he'll be quaking in his boots."

"Friends with the girl overseeing his criminal empire while he kicks his feet up at home," Celeste corrected. "It doesn't sound like he's kept tabs on me. I've got nobody in my pocket, but he doesn't know that. Think about it. Would you be eager to cross me, if you were in his shoes?"

Silence for a while. A deep roll of thunder shook the ground, and the rain grew heavier.

"But it won't mean a damn thing if you can't make it back home."

"I will," Celeste promised. "You said I made it a mile away, right? Well, your car is only a little further out than that. I don't need to make it all the way back home, just far enough for you to pick me up and take me the rest of the way.

"There's a monorail near here, isn't there? Surely it's dead this time of night. I can take that."

"The monorail." Nancy went quiet for a moment. "That…could work. It would drop you off near Bellum Street. Close enough to where I'm parked. Problem is, the nearest platform is still about a half mile away, due east. And you can't stay in this alley forever."

"Won't need to." Celeste rose. Her body was still mostly numb. She placed a hand against her arm and felt only the slightest sensation there. Watching her step would be impossible like this. She slipped her shoes off and handed them to Nancy, who gazed quizzically at her.

"So I can feel where I'm goin' a bit better," Celeste explained. "What street is the entrance to the monorail?"

"Reese. Right next to the Pink Aquarium and Handcrafter's." Nancy shifted again, and Celeste could feel her eyes boring into her. "You do realize what'll happen if Bhas's men catch you, right? He doesn't take kindly to offenses. Best case scenario, you get a pair of fashionable cement shoes to wear on your trip to the bottom of the river."

Nancy didn't say what the worst-case scenario was, which was good, because Celeste wasn't sure her nerves could bear to hear it right now. Between the Sword of Damocles hanging above her head and the doubt in Nancy's voice, keeping herself composed was all she could manage.

"You don't think I can do it." It was a statement of fact.

Celeste felt something cold and hard press into her palm. Nancy forced her fingers to wrap around it. "That's a switchblade. Do yourself a favor: if they catch you, end things on your own terms. If you don't show up in an hour, I'll have to assume they killed or caught you."

"And you'll call Bhasvah and tell him you think you know who the thief was, to clear your own name," Celeste finished for her.

She sensed Nancy stiffen. "That's not what I was going to say."

"But it's what you were thinkin'. It's okay. Everyone needs an insurance policy." Celeste fumbled around in the dark until she found the demon mask, and slipped it on. She'd look odd walking the streets like this, but it was better than having someone see her face. "You leave the alley first. I'll follow a few minutes after."

Though mostly numb, Celeste felt Nancy's hard, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. "Good luck, Celeste. I hope you make it."