“You wouldn’t kill me after I just fucked you, would you?”

She stood frozen in the doorway of the massive cart that doubled as a stage for the

travelling carnival, shadowed by the moon that was the only light on the empty

fairground. Her voice was carefully neutral, but Temilyn could sense that she was

tensed and ready to spring in an instant. He had awakened alone and followed her

here to find her coming out of Fleagle’s carriage with the carnival’s money box. He

hated Fleagle, and he liked this girl, but the carnival paid his bills.

“Well,” she said, “What are you waiting for?”

Temilyn let his sword fall to his side and shrugged. He sighed and squinted toward

the sleeping-tents in the gloomy distance across the field, making sure no one else

was watching.

“Nothing. Just disappointed, I guess. Look, I hate this fucker. He short-changes

small children and he makes all the women who work here blow him. Just get the fuck

out of here.” He turned away, bitterly. She had been so sweet, so hot. So much

smarter than the dumb cunts he usually met.

She watched his back receding for a moment, her heart still pounding. She could

still taste him on her lips. A nice guy is hard to find. Impuslively, she called

out to him, “Come with me!”

He paused. He turned and looked into her eyes, peering into shadows. “Where?”

“Anywhere. I warn you, I’m a thief. That’s how I make my living. They don’t call

me ChillKillJill for nothing.”

He thought about it. He remembered the smell of her, her laugh, the softness of her

strange, blonde hair, wavy and wiry at the same time, as though it was constantly

inviting him to touch it and warning him off at the same time. He thought about

never knowing what might have been.

“Fuck it. Let me get my stuff.”