Fate's Edge

child, technically she was given a choice, but practically things had been decided without her.
    “It’s not my mess,” she told him.
    “You stole the stupid things. You made this mess; you’re in it up to your eyeballs.”
    “No.”
    “Audrey, weigh the odds.”
    She had. Audrey looked away. Her gaze snagged on the book of Greek myths she had been reading yesterday. Like Odysseus, she was stuck between Scylla and Charybdis: the Hand on one side and the Mirror on the other. Each would swallow her without a moment’s hesitation.
    She liked her place. It wasn’t much, but it was so cozy and comfortable. She liked her old couch and reading her books with Ling curled by her feet. She just wanted to be left alone. That was all.
    “You may not like my ugly mug,” Kaldar said, “but as corny as it sounds, I am your best hope for survival. I’ve fought them, I’ve killed them, and I will do it again.”
    This had gone from bad to the end of the world in a hurry. “And if I help you?” Audrey asked.
    “I can’t promise that you will survive. But I promise that I will do everything I can to protect you, and if we succeed, the Mirror will see to it that you won’t have to fear the Hand again.”
    “Is that code for ‘the Mirror will kill me’?”
    “No. It’s code for they will do for you what they’ve done for my family. They will give you enough funds and space anywhere within Adrianglia to make a brand-new start in comfort.”
    He really did think she was born yesterday.
    Her family finally screwed up so badly, they put the whole Edge at risk, and she was the one who had made it happen. She could deal with it, or she could walk away and be known as the girl who destroyed the Edge. It stretched like a ribbon from ocean to ocean, all across the continent. How many people lived in the Edge? It had to be thousands. Thieves and swindlers and conmen. Her people and their children. All at risk because of Seamus Callahan’s greed and her daddy issues.
    Audrey raised her head. “I will help you find where Seamus unloaded the diffusers. That’s all. The moment you know your next target, I am out. Do we understand each other?”
    Kaldar smiled, and this time his smile was savage. “Perfectly.”

SIX
    AUDREY had a conscience. She was good at hiding her motivation, but Kaldar had practiced reading people for way too long to miss the subtle tightness in the corners of her mouth, the eyebrows creeping together, and the glimpse of sadness in her eyes. She felt guilty. Probably even ashamed, although of her own involvement or of her family’s stupidity, he couldn’t tell.
    Kaldar pondered it, turning it over in his mind. Conscience was a virtue he tried very hard to avoid. True, there were things that were just not done: injuring a child, forcing a woman, torturing a dog. But beyond those basic rules, everything else was just a cumbersome guideline he strived to ignore. He supposed it made him amoral, and he was fine with that.
    His world was clearly divided: on one side was the family. Family was everything. It was a shelter in the storm. A place where he would be welcome no matter what he’d done or would do. On the other side lay the rest of the world, like a ripe plum, ready for plucking. Between them ran the line of demarcation. When he crossed it to the family’s side, he was a devoted brother, cousin, and uncle. When he crossed it to the other side, he became a villain.
    The heist was the Callahan family’s responsibility. Audrey was a Callahan, and she had stepped up to take it—that he understood. He would’ve done the same. But considering how much she loathed her family, he would’ve thought self-preservation would be a much stronger motivation for her. He’d misread her, and now it bugged him.
    Audrey was a puzzle. He quietly examined the place, cataloging her possessions. A solid fridge, dented but clean. Same with the stove. Worn but plush furniture. The chair under Jack sported a very neatly sewn seam where something had torn the upholstery. He bet on the raccoon.
    The three windows he could see were narrow, and each one had a heavy-duty shutter, lockable from the inside. A functional dagger hung on the wall between the kitchen cabinets. A small bow waited unstrung on the shelf above the plates, and below it a pair of yellow work boots, streaked with mud, sat on the floor.
    Her three bookcases held an assortment of books, all well handled and shopworn. A dozen plastic horses each about