“Just so I'm clear...you thought a brothel would be a suitable place to host a birthday party for a woman?”

“Nobody wants to be interrogated in his brothel suit”

“Sicarius wore his usual guess-my-thoughts-if-you-can-mask, though she sensed he did not approve.”

“Trust me, I never underestimate my charm or any of my other magnificent attributes. They work great on women. Alas, men tend to see me as an unwelcome rival. You, he might listen to. You're good at talking people into things.""What makes you say that?""Because I'm perched in the rafters of a cannery, at risk from a man-slaying magical creature, and spending time with a drunk, a gangster, and an assassin at . . . what time is it?”

“Sicarius,” Amaranthe said quietly.He bent low, eyes toward her face.With the men laughing and talking up front, and the lorry clacking and chugging as the stack billowed black smoke into the air, this was scarcely a romantic spot. But maybe it did not matter. His response would not likely be to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. Whatever response he gave — if he gave one at all — she anticipated it would sting.“I…uhm…” Amaranthe forced herself to meet his gaze. “I love you.”A long moment passed. She did not remember breathing.Sicarius nodded infinitesimally. “I know.”

“Before noon, they would be back in the city, the night's events like a dream. No, she though, too real for that. A memory.”

“Sitting in the shadows, with a killer, in an empty building, gazing at the corpse of another killer. When had her life grown so strange?”