The brown paper package jostled in my arms as I darted through the crowd. The streets were full as people craned their necks, straining for a better view of the steam-driven carriage. It puffed by followed by a prancing mechanical horse. 

Any other afternoon, I would have paused, standing on my tiptoes to see the wonders. Not today. There was the chance I’d run into my brothers, who’d taken the day off to see the parade of steam-driven mechanics. 

A hiss came as mechanical birds flocked into the air, chasing dragonflies made of cogs and wheels, with tiny lights that flickered. My lips parted as I watched them dance, and I stumbled, landing in a pothole full of mud. Brown sludge oozed over my laced boots, soaking through to my socks.

The stench made me wrinkle my nose and I stepped back, bumping into someone else. 

“Watch it, lady!” A man groused.

I held the package tighter, knowing I shouldn’t be watching the parade when I had work to do. Taking a sharp corner, I moved into an alleyway, then followed it uphill. My breath labored as I approached the wealthier section of town. It boasted larger houses set further apart from each other and manicured gardens of flowers that often made me sneeze. Up here, the thick fog that hung over the city thinned, and the stench of coal and steam faded.

As I slowed, a familiar ache pinched my chest, warning me that if I didn’t stop and rest soon, I’d have an episode. Even though I was out in the open—where watching eyes might spy on my actions—I fumbled in my breast pocket for the tiny bottle of gold liquid. A few drops touched my tongue, warmed me, and soothed the throbbing in my chest. Out of habit, I rubbed my palm over my heart. Massaging it never eased the ache, but I tried anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I continued to the market, the ruins of an old temple from decades before the city of Nullis was built. A distant time when people still believed in gods and magic, and the feats of steam and mechanics were naught but dreams.

Some of the stone structures had been rebuilt, and tunnels ran underground, weaving from one end of the city to the other. They were dark, damp places where illegal deeds were done in secret. I, though, was hired to do illegal deeds in the daylight.

Self-consciously, my hand went to my auburn hair, tucked under my hat. Hidden because it was my one recognizable feature. No one took much notice of a young woman wearing the fashion of years past, and most assumed I was a servant who worked in one of the big houses. But that kind of grueling work would not suit my fragile heart.

Sliding into a corner of the marketplace, I watched it for a moment, doing my best to blend in. Women trailed around vendors, baskets on their arms, bartering for a low price, despite the fact their purses carried plenty of coin. I envied their warm coats and the ruffles on their long dresses. They were never cold, never dressed in threadbare clothes, and never went hungry. They also never worried about what would happen to them if they had an episode and passed out in a gutter. 

It was no use dwelling on what I didn’t have. 

My path took me to the tunnels where I slipped under the cover of cool stones. The darkness was terrifying, but I didn’t have to go far. Trailing my fingers along the stones, I counted out the directions I’d been given, finding the loose stone and working it free. Behind it was a shallow opening, and I felt around it for a thick pouch of money. 

It was heavy in my hands. 

More than once, I’d been tempted to take it and run, but the smugglers I worked for were unforgiving. I’d seen what happened to those who attempted to double-cross them. Besides, I had my family to think about. Any of my missteps would impact my mother and four siblings.

Tucking the money away, I put the package in its place, replaced the stone, and stood, brushing dirt off my shabby coat. A shadow loomed in the entrance, blocking the daylight. 

I turned to leave, not wanting to be caught alone in the tunnels, but at the entrance stood a lady. She was red-cheeked and plump with bright eyes and a crown of brown braids and curls tumbling around her ears. 

She gave me an eager grin. “Oh! You must be her, the red-head who walks the city and makes deliveries. I told my maid I didn’t believe it, but now I’ve found you. Take off your hat, let me see if your hair is really red.” 

I was the source of rumors? There was nothing good about that. Mud squealed between my toes as I maneuvered around her.  “Just take it and hurry,” I whispered, appalled at her words.

She laughed. “Don’t be so frightened. The law can’t touch us here.”

Perhaps the law couldn’t touch her, but if I were found with illegal contraband, I didn’t have connections to get out of trouble.

“Please,” I begged. “Don’t speak of me. There will be trouble.”

She snorted, and the way her steps wavered warned me she wasn’t in her right mind. 

I slipped away before she said anything else, almost running even though I’d pay for it later.

* * *

I found a park to rest at and sat on the bench for an hour, taking slow breaths to calm my racing heart. The sun hung low in the sky by the time I reached the tavern, the hovering fog growing thicker, blacker, warning of night. Would I be scolded for reporting in late? 

The rough red door creaked as it swung open, a long whining sound that made me wince as I pushed the hat off my head. Here, it was good for others to recognize me. My wavy auburn hair tumbled loose as I stepped inside the tavern. The air was filled with a delightful blend of cinnamon, sugar, and the aroma of yeasty beer. 

The cadence of the tavern welcomed me in, the ebb and flow of conversation, the laughter exuding from patrons as I weaved around crowded tables toward the bar. 

Aisling stood behind it, blond hair trailing down her back as she wiped a mug with her skirt, then filled it full of frothy beer. When our eyes met, she crooked a half smile, then jerked her chin toward the back of the bar.

He was waiting for me. 

Dread made blood rush to my ears so when arms encircled my waist, I yelped. 

The scent of grease and beer filled my senses. “Evette, love, come have a drink with me.” 

Bartholomew, one of the cooks, was off duty and feeling dangerously bold. His fingers rested on my hip, and he leaned forward, a shaggy head of sweat pasted hair, lips pursed to kiss me. 

I turned my face just in time so that his lips landed on my cheek instead of my lips. “Not today.” I wiggled out of his embrace. “I have business.” 

Reluctantly, he let me go, and not for the first time, I scolded myself about being too friendly with the tavern staff. Clearly, flirtatious Bartholomew thought he’d get lucky one day. I should shut down his persistence instead of making excuses.

When I slipped behind the bar, Aisling handed me a mug of sweet ale. “Here’s some liquid courage.” She winked.

“Thank you.” I took a sip, letting the sweetness slither down my throat, making my belly buzz with warmth. Ale made me feel slightly queasy, but once I finished it, that comfortable buzz would be the only sensation I felt. “Do you need help later?” I asked, eyeing the crowded room. 

Not one table was empty. While it wasn’t my job to work behind the bar at the tavern, I did it often as a front. It was important not to blow my cover. 

She waved me away with a grimace. “Not tonight.”

Behind the bar was a short hallway leading to the kitchen and the storage rooms. A stack of boxes hid the nondescript door. I opened it and went down a dark stairway, slats of light beaming in from broken wooden boards, letting in the crisp air of late fall. I took another sip as I made my way to the lower level and walked past barrels of beer, crates of food, and other illegal contraband, waiting for transport. 

If the tavern was ever raided, I wonder how much trouble the mere workers would be in.

The thought made me shiver. 

Passageways ran out of the basement into the tunnels, allowing for secretive passage to and from various locations. 

The damp scent of smoke and beer hovered as I made my way to the one door in the room. Finishing my mug, I propped it on a nearby barrel, then rapped three times. 

“Come!” a sharp voice ordered. 

Closing my fist around the handle, I took a deep breath. 

The door opened into a small, dark room with a round wood table in the middle. Pale light hung from the ceiling, gently swaying back and forth. The scent of ale and damp hung heavy in the air, and three pairs of hard eyes stared at me. Although saying three pairs would be generous for one was actually covered with a blindfold. 

Despite the mug of sweet ale I’d just drained, my stomach fluttered. All three of the smugglers today? This did not bode well. I’d done nothing wrong (that I knew of), but this meant they had another job, perhaps one more dangerous than the last. 

My eyes skirted around the shabby room—a broken chair in a corner, a brown stain of what might be blood, maps tacked onto the wall, and a barrel of stinking beer. My hands were clammy as I took out the money and placed it on the table. 

“Evette, have a seat.” 

Declan, my main contact, spoke in his smooth, calm voice. He wore his sandy brown hair in a high ponytail and kept a trim beard. His brown eyes were usually lidded, as though he were half asleep, but he was like a snake, always ready to pounce. I’d felt his oily fingers around my throat exactly once as he applied pressure, warning me what should happen if I ever chose to cross the smugglers. 

“Beer?” Drawled Hamish, the second in command, also the one with the eye patch. He was all brawn, with thick muscle and scars crisscrossing his face. His nose was crooked and had clearly been broken many times. He was the one sent to deal with those who thought they could steal from the smugglers. When he appeared, broken bones were guaranteed. 

I shook my head as I sat, perching delicately on the edge of the wooden seat. Sweet ale was delicious, but I couldn’t stomach the stronger brews. 

Malo, the big boss, said nothing, just watched me impassively as he lit up a pipe, most of his expression hidden behind thick jowls, bushy eyebrows, and a beard peppered with white hairs that ran down to his chest. I always imagined he was scowling behind all that hair. 

“Evette, we’ve called you here to give you a promotion,” Declan announced. 

“Already?” I exclaimed, my gaze darting from one man to the next. I’d barely worked for the smugglers a year, and they were already blessing my loyalty. My thoughts flitted to a fat sack of coin at the same time my heart squeezed. A promotion meant more responsibilities. 

“It’s twofold,” Declan said, shoving a piece of paper across the table to me.  

I didn’t dare to breathe as I glanced at it, taking in the familiar black lines of a map, except it wasn’t Nullis, or at least the part of it I was familiar with. A question hovered on my lips as I looked back up at Declan, waiting for an explanation. 

Hamish leaned forward, tapping the paper with a meaty finger. “Anton’s run off. We believe he’s a double-dealer. We sent him north to handle business. Instead, our cargo’s gone missing. Our contact up there is pretending to be innocent, so we’re sending you to investigate.” 

I drew a sharp breath. A plethora of questions buzzed in my mind.

“You’re adept at blending in, making yourself part of a crowd, not attracting attention. All skills that will be needed to find our missing cargo. We’ve arranged for you to meet a contact who will introduce you to the town and provide shelter and food. We do not suggest that you trust them.”

North. The word bored into my mind. There were lore-filled tales of the north, but how true were they? “For how long?” 

Declan shrugged. “This isn’t a time-based job. Success depends on how quickly you can locate our cargo, be it three days or three months. Besides, we need time for the rumors about a red-headed delivery woman to die down.” 

My face went hot. They knew! It didn’t matter anyway though. I had no choice, turning down the smugglers would ignite their ire. 

“I have a condition,” I said, staring at the map, ashamed to admit my weakness. 

“It has been taken care of with a three-month supply. Go home, pack a bag, return here tomorrow,” Declan instructed. 

Hamish belched, thumping his chest as he lifted his mug. “The less you know right now, the better. Declan will take you to the airship tomorrow and give you a full debrief.” 

He waved his hand, the universal signal for dismissal. 

I stood. 

As I pivoted on my heel, that quiet voice came from Malo, a dry tone that made my skin crawl. “Should you succeed, a bright future lies ahead for you.”

My heart skipped while the logical side of my mind reminded me I shouldn’t want their praise or approval. I shouldn’t want to dance on the edges of danger. Still, I couldn’t help the words that dripped from my lips. “I am grateful for this opportunity.”