She gave a gasp of pain, and the pistol fell over the railing into the muddy water far below. Her shot went wide, and he twisted her arm hard. Daud was about to turn back into his room when he heard a click behind him, and the cold metal of a pistol pressed against the base of his skull.ĭaud’s hand flashed up and grabbed Billie’s arm, forcing it to the side. His scarred hands gripped the iron railing, the Outsider’s Mark glowing faintly on the back of his left hand. Instantly, he was alert: listening, watching. A different sort of unease pricked at the back of his mind, as he tossed his cigarette butt away. Daud’s eyes scanned the rooftops carefully. But as his mind grew clearer, it seemed odd that no one was around. He could sense them losing confidence in him day by day, and he was grateful none of them were here right now to see him trembling, and sweating, wearing only his trousers: terrified of a dream. He was starting to think his assassins were right, and he was losing it. The Flooded District smelled of Weepers, dead rats, and whale oil, but it was a familiar smell, and lately, Daud had been latching onto anything even vaguely comforting. He took a deep breath, welcoming the cool air on his sweaty face. Daud lit a cigarette and walked out onto his small balcony on the top floor of the Chamber of Commerce building.
It was barely after sunset, judging by the faint light coming through the glass-less windows. It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing and bring his mind back to reality. He tore off his sweat soaked shirt and tried to stand. He sat up and dry heaved over his blankets, but nothing came up. Daud woke up shaking, his stomach curdling.
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