Lanie swung off the bus onto a familiar street, holding her duffel bag in front of herself to keep it from catching on anything. The smell of coffee and grilled sandwiches drifted from Mel’s on the corner, layered over car exhaust and the sour reek of overflowing dumpsters. Car horns down the block, and Mr. Lee yelling at the kids loitering around his bodega, welcomed her home.

  A little bit of tension went out of her shoulders.

  Nips peered out from his accustomed spot in her messenger bag, craning his neck around to take it all in. He was using a glamour to keep himself unnoticed. “Feels different from London, but just enough like it to make me a little nostalgic,” he said. “Not like Paris at all.” He wrinkled his nose.

  Lanie chuckled as she started to walk. “Well, the people are less snooty, that’s for sure.” She shook her head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, most of the folks in France were nice enough, but Parisians? Yeah, my French isn’t great, but at least I was trying, you know?”

  Nips snorted. “So, are we pretty close?”

  “About a block and a half, and around the corner. Oh, boy. Here’s a little local character for you.” Lanie’s lips twisted in a half-amused smile, half-resigned grimace.

  The man coming toward them was dressed in ragged and stained khakis and a military surplus flak jacket. His graying hair hung wild, and his beard was as shaggy as a mad magician’s. He had a rugged canvas knapsack tossed over one shoulder, and in one hand he gripped the chunk of asphalt for which he was known. It was as big as two fists together, and she’d never seen him without it.

  “Asphalt Charlie,” she said in a low voice. “Nice enough guy, just… lives in his own world.”

  She fell silent as he drew closer. The faint sour scent of too many nights outdoors drifted on the breeze. Charlie wasn’t violent, not like some of the street folk who haunted the neighborhood, and Lanie had always had a soft spot for him. People tried to help him now and then, but somehow he always found his way back to the streets.

  “Hey, Charlie. How’ve you been?” she greeted him with a smile.

  “Oh, look at you! You woke up! I was starting to think all that potential was going to go to waste.” He grinned and did a celebratory shuffle-skip as he looked her over. Then, his face grew a bit more serious, and he made a small bow toward Nips before adding, “And good evening to you, as well, Master Brownie.”

  Lanie’s mouth dropped open. He could see Nips. The obvious question was on the tip of her tongue when something else caught her attention. The chunk of asphalt in his hand was radiating power. It was so thick she could almost see heat shimmers dancing around it.

  Charlie caught the direction of her gaze and laughed. “Ah, you can feel it now. Here, see what it tells you.” He thrust the chunk into her hands before she could protest.

  The rock felt alive in her grasp. It hummed with the sound of wind through girders, beat with the thump, thump of traffic over expansion joints. Gossamer threads of magic stretched out from it, connecting it to the city like a spider in its web.

  She gasped. Her eyes snapped up to meet Charlie’s. He didn’t seem nearly as crazy as she’d thought he was. “This is from the bridge. The one that collapsed.” The knowledge was just there, as certain as the color of the sky.

  His eyes turned sad, and he looked down. His voice was a whisper, hard to hear over the city noise. “It was the Tattergnaws. I didn’t know, didn’t hear them. I didn’t catch the infestation in time. The Lady of the City didn’t blame me, though.” He looked back up to meet her gaze. “She made this for me,” He tapped the stone in her hand, “so I’d know next time, so I can fix it.” The sorrow and guilt were wiped away by a sly grin, and he leaned in like he was going to tell her a secret. “It won’t happen again, though. I got a troll. Tattergnaws don’t dare nibble on a troll bridge. Just have to give him a goat once a month so he doesn’t eat stray pedestrians.”

  “Wait… there’s a troll under the I-35 bridge?” Lanie was getting whiplash from the topic changes.

  Charlie nodded, and his eyes lit up. “Yes, yes, yes, and now you know. Oh, it feels so good that someone else knows. If something happens to me, you can feed him, keep the bargain. A goat on the full moon. I’d love to talk shop with you, now that you have your tongue back, but I have to run.” He took back the stone, and his words took on a manic rhythm. “The glass pixies are all riled up, and the last thing this city needs is riled-up glass pixies. Oh, but you’ll need me soon. A day or two, I think. Find the mounted soldier at the Veterans’ Memorial. You’ll know when. Take care, now.” And he was off, hurrying down the sidewalk like he was late for an appointment.

  “Nips, did that just happen?” She watched Charlie disappear down the street, asphalt chunk swinging at his side, and wasn’t sure if she should laugh or have a panic attack. “I understood most of that, and suddenly, I’m not sure if he’s saner than I thought, or my own gears are slipping.”

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  “The Awakened have often been mistaken for madmen. They see things that others can’t. It can be a lonely road to walk.” Nips patted her arm consolingly. “If it’s any balm, I found him to be a bit of a whirlwind, myself. It is possible to be both Awakened and a little off-balance. He seemed a nice enough sort, though.”

  Lanie resumed walking as they spoke. “He is nice. He saved me once, when I was younger. It was only a couple of weeks after I ran away from foster care for the last time. A couple of older guys had me cornered in an alley, and he showed up, spouting his nonsense. He told them that the city would eat them if they didn’t leave me alone. At the time, I thought he’d just out-crazied them, but now I have to wonder if his threat had real teeth.”

  “From what he said, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. It sounds like he has a connection with the city’s spirit.”

  “The city has a spirit?” Lanie’s eyebrows climbed.

  “Most larger urban centers do. The pressure of so many minds and lives pressing on the ambient magic tends to give it shape. With enough time and population density, it can become a sentient entity with a personality based on the way the locals view the city—the distillation of the zeitgeist, if you will.”

  “Is that what he meant when he talked about the Lady of the City?”

  Nips nodded. “Most likely.”

  “What about the tattergnaws? What are those?”

  “They’re newer fae creatures, in the greater scheme of history. Not a lot of stories about them yet. They feed on… well, not the rust and decay itself, but the… this is going to sound poetic and vague, but I can’t think of a better way to explain it. They feed on the sound of structural entropy.”

  “You’re right, that is very poetic and vague.” She quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him and waited for a better explanation.

  “The creaks and pops of an old home, the harmonic vibrations of a skyscraper, the subway rumbles that knock dust from the concrete… that sort of thing. The music of decay. They’re little balls of congealed mana and sound, and they hum in resonance with a structure to speed up its failure, feasting on the structure’s future potential as it shakes itself apart.” He smiled and shrugged at Lanie’s incredulous gaze. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up. Magic can get pretty strange.”

  Lanie snorted. “Strange is an understatement, but I guess I’ll need to get used to it. Anyway, we’re almost there.” As they turned the corner, the character of the neighborhood changed from a mix of brownstones and mixed-use shops to something more heavily commercial. She pointed out a sign on one of the small warehouses that lined the street. It featured a logo of a crossed wrench and piston ringed in stylized flames under the words ‘Abrego Custom.’

  The large roll-up door was open, and the two cars parked inside were visible. Derrik and Chico were leaning in under the open hood of a classic Mustang, arguing about some esoteric point of engine tuning. Elevated on tire ramps next to the Mustang was an older Honda Civic with a crumpled fender—probably one of Jorge’s charity jobs. Keisha’s distinctive motorcycle boots and stained jeans were just visible poking out from under it.

  She stepped through into the dim interior of the garage. It had only been a month since she’d seen the place, but it felt like it had been years. The smell of hot metal and motor oil hit her with a wave of nostalgia. Distorted rock music from a battered speaker crammed behind a toolbox bounced around the large space of the warehouse, competing with the noise of a running air compressor. The half-dead ficus tree someone had rescued from the curb looked a little greener. There was a new sticker on Neon’s filing cabinet. The old pin-up calendar still showed July 2003, just as it had for as long as she could remember.

  Time had passed, nothing much had changed, but the ache in her chest made her feel like she already had one foot out the door.

  It was Neon who noticed her first. Her green-dyed hair was pulled up in a messy bun, held in place with an ink pen. The glare from the open door made it impossible to see her eyes through her thick, black-rimmed glasses when she looked up from her ever-present clipboard. “Hey, Mouse, go see if we’ve got these parts in stock. I swear I shelved some of them just last week, but they aren’t in inventory. Oh, hi, Lanie! How was Europe?”

  “Europe? I thought she was going to Canada?” Chico popped his head up from under the Mustang’s hood, barely missing braining himself on it. “Hey, was that Louvre job you?”

  The grizzled face of Derrick appeared over the hood, and the older man playfully swatted Chico on the back of the head. “You don’t ask shit like that. Not out where anyone can hear you.” He glared at the younger man, then turned to Lanie. “But yeah, Lanie, we all want to know. You rich now?”

  Lanie snorted. “I wish. But, nah, too high-risk for my taste.” She leaned against the Civic and tapped Keisha’s boot with her foot, “You sleeping under there, Spark?”

  The creeper rolled out from under the car to reveal the graying dreadlocks and lined features of the garage’s oldest mechanic. “Lanie! Good to see you, kid. Heard things went a little sideways for you. You okay?” The older woman sat up and started wiping her greasy hands with a rag.

  “Jorge told you?” Her eyebrow quirked up. That was a surprise. When she’d called Jorge to check in, she’d asked him to keep the details to himself.

  Keisha shook her head, setting her dreds to bouncing. “He didn’t spill any secrets, just said you had some trouble. You worried us, going dark for so long.”

  “Sideways is a bit of an understatement, but I’m fine. Is he in? I need to talk to him.” She glanced around, looking for him. Bear’s tow truck was gone, and for a moment, she was worried that Jorge might have gone out to help with a tow. That might mean she’d be waiting for hours before he got back, depending on the job.

  “Yeah,” Keisha nodded to the door on the far wall, “In the office.”

  Lanie nodded in thanks. She lowered her voice so only Keisha could hear her, “I’m pretty sure I’m clear, but there might be complications. Make sure everyone knows to keep their eyes open.”

  “You think trouble’s likely?” Keisha’s voice was sharp, all business, but low enough to keep it between them.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but it never hurts to be careful.”

  “Yeah, I’ll spread the word. Now go on. He won’t admit it, but he’s been worried about you. It’ll do him good to see you all in one piece.” Keisha smiled and waved her off.