Sera looks at me. Red eyes. Unreadable.

"You owe me," she says again.

"I know."

"And you're an idiot."

"I know that too."

She pours herself a drink. Doesn't offer me one.

"What were those coins?" I ask. "The ones you gave the guards. They looked old. Heavy."

"They were old. Heavy. And expensive."

"How expensive?"

She takes a sip.

"More than you can pay back right now."

I lean against the bar.

"Fine. I owe you. But let's be clear about something."

She raises an eyebrow.

"You poured the ale. You sat down. You drank with me. And according to the merchant, we both laughed. We both broke things. So don't act like this is all on me."

She stares at me. Then — slowly — she smiles. Fangs.

"Fair."

"So what now?"

"Now you work."

"Work?"

"You owe me. You work it off. Simple."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever I need. Cleaning. Carrying. Breaking heads if necessary."

She finishes her drink.

"You start tomorrow."

I nod. Then pause.

"One more thing."

"What?"

"There's a rumor going around. People say murders and robberies are on the rise in this city. Is that true?"

She goes still. Her eyes narrow.

"Where did you hear that?"

"A merchant. A drunk. A woman on the street. They all said the same thing. The port is getting dangerous."

She puts her cup down.

"It's true. People are disappearing. And the guards can't stop it."

"Who's behind it?"

"Nobody knows. Or nobody's talking."

She looks at me. Really looks. Red eyes. Unblinking.

"You're cursed," she says. "Not just marked. Cursed. I can feel it."

I don't answer.

"I don't know what kind. But I know you're not going to die from a knife in the back. Or old age. Or poison."

"And that makes me useful?"

"It makes you useful."

She doesn't smile. Her fangs don't show. She's not joking.

"You start tomorrow."