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The first one out of the stall was what she thought of as a woman with crossover appeal. The female was dressed in the Goth tradition, with torn stockings and boots that weighed four hundred pounds and a lot of leather strapping, but she was Miss America beautiful and had a Barbie body.

And she’d been done but good.

Her cheeks were flushed and her overly black hair bed-headed, no doubt both effects caused by her having been worked out up against the tile wall.

Qhuinn was the next to leave the stall, and Xhex stiffened, knowing exactly who the third was in this trifecta of fucking.

Qhuinn nodded to her stiffly as he passed, and she knew he wouldn’t go far. Not until—

John Matthew came out in the process of buttoning his fly. An Affliction shirt was shoved up his six-pack, and he wasn’t wearing any boxers. In the glowing fluorescent lights, the smooth, hairless skin below his belly button was so tight, she could see the muscle fibers that ran down his torso and into his legs.

He did not look up at her, but not because he was shy or embarrassed. He simply did not care that she was in the room, and it wasn’t an act. His emotional grid was…empty.

Over at the sinks, John cranked the hot faucet on and pumped the soap dispenser on the wall. Lathering up the hands that had been all over that woman, he rolled his shoulders as if they were stiff.

There was stubble on his jaw. And bags under his eyes. And his hair hadn’t been cut for a while, so the ends had started to curl up at the nape and around the ears. Most of all, he reeked of alcohol, the scent coming out of his very pores, as if no matter how hard his liver worked, it couldn’t filter the shit from his blood fast enough.

Not good, not safe: She knew he was still fighting. She’d seen him coming in with fresh bruises and the occasional bandage.

“How long you going to keep this up?” she asked flatly. “This whole wino-slut thing?”

John turned off the water and came over to the paper towel box that she’d just put a spectacular dent in. He was less than two feet away from her as he snapped a couple of white squares free and dried his hands as thoroughly as he’d washed them.

“Christ, John, this is a hell of a way to spend your life.”

He tossed the wadded-up towels in the stainless bin. As he got to the door, he looked at her for the first time since she’d left him in her bed. There was no flicker of recognition or memory or anything in his face. The blue stare that had once sparkled was now opaque.

“John…” Her voice cracked slightly. “I’m really sorry.”

With deliberate care, he extended his middle finger at her and left.

Alone in the bathroom, Xhex went over to the darkened mirror and leaned in just as the Goth had been doing next door. As her weight shifted forward, she could feel the cilices dig into her thighs and was surprised to notice them.

She didn’t need them anymore, wearing the bands only out of habit now.

Ever since Rehv had sacrificed himself, she had been in so much pain, she didn’t need the extra help to control her bad side.

Her cell phone went off in the pocket of her leathers, the beeping sound a drain on her. As she took the thing out, she checked the number…and closed her eyes hard.

She’d been waiting for this. Ever since she’d arranged for everything that came in to Rehv’s old phone to be forwarded to hers.

Accepting the call, she said in an even voice, “Hello, Ehlena.”

There was a long pause. “I didn’t expect anyone to answer.”

“Then why did you call his number.” Another long pause. “Look, if this is about the money going into your account, there’s nothing I can do about it. It was part of his will. If you don’t want it, give it to charity.”

“What…what money?”

“Maybe it hasn’t kicked in yet. I thought the will had been certified by the king.” There was another long pause. “Ehlena? Are you there?”

“Yes…” came the quiet response. “I am.”

“If it wasn’t about the money, then why did you call?”

The silence wasn’t a surprise, given all that had come before. But what the female replied was a dead shocker.

“I phoned because