People often spoke of hearts, when they talked about panic. They talked about the sound as they pumped, the desperate, thumping rhythm as they slammed against your ribs. Vision had often heard people talk about hearts that struggled to burst free: rebellious hearts, throwing their weight against their captor. Now, hers only fluttered weakly, the last apathetic stirrings of a dying bird. The fact that her heart had given up already didn’t make her optimistic about her homecoming. With every step, her feet grew heavier with resigned dread, drowning any sense of pleasure that she might otherwise have felt, returning to the place she belonged. It was one thought in particular that tormented her – did she still belong?

She met Glass near the building and they made the rest of the way there together. She was uncertain if she’d have completed the journey on her own. Gretta’s was a stubby, dilapidated structure, surprisingly large for its outward appearance. The roof needed re-thatching it wouldn’t get and paint flaked half-heartedly from the walls. Above the doorway was mounted a wooden sign. Vision could only make out the image blazoned there by filling in what remained with images plucked from her memory. What had once been the silhouette of a curvaceous woman, lounging on her side, now more closely resembled an abstract mountain landscape. Despite that, everyone still knew it for a brothel.

Vision walked up to the door and stopped, catching her breath with her hand over the handle. Glass came up behind her, put his arms around her waist and covered her fingers with his own. Together, they opened the door. As soon as it opened, they were washed in a foul haze of tobacco smoke, the stench of sweat, and other things better left unnamed. Incense burned stubbornly from several points in the room, but it only added to the stink.

Vision got her first look at the place in over two years. She had forgotten just how ordinary Gretta’s looked in the light of day. The stained and battered walls, lined with velvet curtains that had seen better days, were meant only to be viewed through a haze of dim light and alcohol. The bar at the back of the room helped with the latter, and the girl behind it was meant to distract from any visible imperfection before patrons were appropriately lubricated. A girl stood behind the counter now, polishing glasses. Vision blinked at her. It couldn’t be Rosie. Rosie wasn’t a buxom barmaid.

The barmaid looked up, a frown coming over plainly pretty features.

“I’m sorry, we ain’t open.”

She kept frowning at Vision, as though she were trying to place her.

“Rosie?”

“Well, I go by Daisy now, but by the Ether, Vision? I never thought I’d see the day. Look at your skin!”

Vision laughed, “The Southern sun will do that to you – but look at you! All of you. You were a girl when I left.”

Daisy flushed.

“Is Fox coming?”

“Uh. I’m sure he’ll visit you.”

Daisy smiled a sunny smile, that made her features truly beautiful, turning eyes that had seemed far-set exotic, and gap-teeth, striking.

“You’ll be here to see Celia?” Daisy asked.

Vision felt like the wind had been knocked from her, and the joy she’d felt at the reunion with Daisy vanished like mist beneath the sun.

“Actually, could you get Gretta, please?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

Daisy pursed her lips.

“And who’s this?” she said, nodding toward Glass, “One of your thieves?”

Glass flashed his most charming smile.

“Unfortunately not, Mistress,” he said, bending at the waist in a bow, “William Sage. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Daisy twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger, chewing her lip as she examined them both.

“Where’d you pick him up?” she asked Vision.

“Daisy. Please, just get Gretta.”

She left down the hallway to the back of the building, shooting Vision a look filled with the poisonous beginnings of creeping dislike. Vision made her way to the bar. She poured herself a mug of the cheap ale Gretta’s was currently serving and drank deeply. Glass wrinkled his nose.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up. You’ll see.”

“The barmaid is getting Gretta, not Celia.”

Vision slammed the mug down hard on the counter, “That doesn’t mean anything!”

It was then that two women emerged from the hall into which Daisy had vanished. Vision’s stomach dropped as fast as Glass’ gaze. Even in the depths of her panic, she took a moment to feel amused at his flaming cheeks an uncomfortable fidgeting, as he tried hard to find a place to look. To say that the women were clothed an overstatement. They were technically wearing silk gowns but technicalities were just a fancy way of lying. One was draped in midnight blue fabric, with a plunging neckline. The other was in diaphanous scarlet that clung to her in ways that a man like Glass might find very intimidating. Each woman was beautiful in her own way. The one in blue was older, with bronze skin and long, graceful limbs. The second had eyes like cornflowers, hair dyed too dark for her colouring and a terrible scowl. Even so, she was undeniably still the fairer of the two.

“You got business with me, girl?” asked Gretta, the woman in blue. Her eyes were sharp between thin wrinkles that makeup could not entirely hide.

Vision swallowed, unable to meet the eyes of the woman in scarlet; Celia. She rubbed sweaty palms on her legs.

“Um. Yes. Not me, I mean, my crew.”

Celia’s eyes flashed dangerously. Gretta turned her attention to Glass, making him as uncomfortable as Vision was.

“This who I’m meant to deal with, then?”

He wrenched his eyes up to meet the courtesan’s cool gaze, “No, no… Vision is just here to see if you’ll deal with our crew leader.”

Celia smiled, showing teeth. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Gretta,” she said primly, “What is it you were telling me just the other day about thieves?”

“That I don’t like them, and I don’t like dealing with them. They’ll bring the guard down on me, they will.”

Vision scrambled to gain some composure as she felt the situation slipping away from her.

“We can come to some sort of agreement, can’t we?”

“Can we?” Celia asked quietly.

“Not everything you’re doing here is legal,” Vision blurted.

Gretta arched an eyebrow, “Celia, will your girl set the hounds on us?”

“I don’t know,” Celia said, “I don’t see my girl.”

Gretta tilted her head, “Tell you what. I’ll talk with your crew leader and I’ll deal you fair – but if the money don’t speak to me, there’s no deal.”

“Couldn’t expect more,” Vision said.

Glass’ posture slackened, as though he thought the ordeal were over. Vision snickered and pushed her mug into his chest.

“You’ll want this.”

He blinked at the mug, then at Vision. That was all he had time to do before Gretta grabbed him by the ear and dragged him out of the building.

“Take me to your crew leader, boy,” her voice carried as the door swung closed.

That left Vision alone with Celia. The woman crossed her arms and watched the young thief with an unreadable expression.

“Hi Celia,” Vision said lamely, “I’m home.”

The courtesan sniffed, “We’ll see.”