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and yanked her behind him. Corinne sensed his gun before she saw it. The movement of steel sent a wave of nausea through her. No wonder she felt on edge around him.
    â€œPut that away,” she said, pushing past him. “It’s just Harry.”
    â€œWho the hell is Harry?” he asked.
    â€œHe’s nobody. He comes around sometimes.” Corinne took a few steps toward the scraggly man, who was dressed in a wrinkled suit, worn threadbare at the elbows and knees. His brown hair was matted and unkempt, and there were remains of some long-past meal in his beard.
    â€œJohnny told you not to come back here,” Corinne said.
    â€œCorinne, is that you?” he asked, shuffling forward. “I just need a little bit. Can’t you ask Ada to—”
    â€œAda won’t play for you anymore. Go home.”
    â€œI can’t.” There was a snuffling sound, and Corinne realized hewas crying. “Just a few bars, please. There’s ghosts in my head, and she’s the only one can shake them loose.”
    â€œGo home,” Corinne repeated. She turned back toward the door, but then Harry was grabbing at the back of her dress. She could smell his sweat and grime and desperation.
    â€œWhat about you?” He was crying. “You can give me some sunlight, some blue skies. I need to shake them loose.”
    Corinne swung her elbow and felt it contact bone, but the man was unfazed. Gabriel pulled her free and shoved Harry away. Harry hit the concrete with a loud sob.
    â€œHe’s never been this bad before,” Corinne said, retreating a few steps.
    â€œHe’s drunk,” Gabriel said.
    She shook her head. Even from a distance, Harry stank of urine and sweat—but not alcohol.
    â€œNo. He’s an edger.”
    â€œMeaning?”
    â€œMeaning he uses hemopaths’ talents as an escape, but he fell down the rabbit hole and there’s no coming back.” She dusted off her dress in short, jerking movements, trying to hide the trembling of her hands. She told herself it was just the cold.
    â€œBitch,” Harry howled toward the black sky. He tried to drag himself upright, but he finally gave up and collapsed onto the concrete. “I hope the ironmongers get you. I hope you—”
    He was interrupted by the rolling wail of sirens. Corinne’s heart skipped a beat at the sound. They were coming closer. Too loud, too fast.
    Harry was laughing. It was an unsettling sound, with barbed and bitter edges. He was still lying on his back, mindless of the alley’s filth.
    â€œBulls are coming for you,” he managed to gasp out. “Better run, slaggers.”
    Corinne whipped around and sprinted for the door with Gabriel at her heels. She took the half flight of stairs to the club two steps at a time, barely remembering to shout a warning to Gordon over her shoulder. Once inside, she lost track of Gabriel in the throng of people. That didn’t matter, though. He would tell Johnny. She had to find Ada.
    The band was still playing, and she couldn’t hear the sirens over the music and clinking glasses and bursts of laughter. The patrons were still blissfully unaware. Corinne darted through the crowd to the dance floor, but she couldn’t see Ada and Charlie among the whirling black jackets and sequined silk. She scrambled onto the stage to survey the entire club. Behind her, the musicians had stopped playing. She could see Johnny calmly shaking the senator’s hand while Jackson waited to escort him and his wife out the back door. Some of the patrons had realized that something was wrong and were hastily gathering coats and purses. The last of the musicians had already packed up his instrument and was slipping out the back, headed for the basement to wait out the raid.
    After the law had passed, Johnny made sure that his crew knew how to make themselves scarce at a moment’s notice. It was illegal to perform or participate in any sort of