It was a mild night and the sky was clear. Summer wasn’t far away—she could already smell it in the air and dreaded the longer days to come. Moth flopped onto a bench under one of the old-fashioned iron lamps that lined the pathways. She tried not to remember the distressed expression on Caitlín’s face when she’d left the city, ten months ago. They’d sat in this very spot and said their goodbyes. Moth had promised to call her younger sister as soon as she returned to Ironbridge, but instead here she was skulking around the Common and wondering if there was any way she could get out of doing this job for Theo.

“Hey, what freak show did you escape from?”

Two guys were standing in front of her, one of them posing with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. She’d been so busy thinking about Theo, and the crazy scheme he’d dragged her into, that she hadn’t even smelled them coming.

Moth tried for the friendly approach. Hey, it was worth a try. “Nice to see you, too, boys.” She grinned, while still managing to keep her fangs hidden. It was tricky, but possible, although it had taken her several years to master the art.

The boys were probably sixteen or seventeen; only a little younger than Moth had been when she was turned almost a decade ago. They wore blue jeans and long-sleeved T-shirts. One of them carried a jacket that caught her eye—it was soft black leather, covered in zips and pointed metal studs. Nice. She wondered how a kid like that could afford such a beautiful jacket.

“Don’t know what you’re grinning at, but you’re sitting on our bench.” This was said around the cigarette, so some of the force behind the words was lost. The guy had short brown hair, narrow eyes, and a screw-you attitude. His slightly hawkish nose reminded her of Theo’s.