I'll Help You Change Clothes

Sariye stood in the middle of the open space at the end of the alley, a long blade hanging from her right hand. The blade was narrow and slightly curved, its edge a hair-thin line of silver beneath the moonlight.

She stood sideways to the alley entrance without looking at the crew-cut man. Her gaze rested on the blade in her hand, her expression calm.

The crew-cut man's steps came to an abrupt halt. His body reacted faster than his mind; he lowered his center of gravity, bent his knees, and dug his toes into the clouds, stopping at the mouth of the alley.

He saw Sariye's wings. Under the moonlight, the white paint coating the feathers had an unnatural, stiff texture—like lacquer, nothing like the luster feathers should have possessed.

And deep at the roots of the feathers, in the gaps the paint had failed to cover completely, the underlying color showed through.

Black.

Iron-black.

The crew-cut man's pupils contracted. His hand had already reached for his waist, where a thin sword was hidden along the inside of his belt. Its blade was so thin that it made almost no sound when drawn.

But just as his fingers touched the hilt, Sariye moved.

Her turn was light. Her gauzy skirt swayed in a slow arc like ripples across water. The long blade spun once in her hand, shifting from a lowered position to a horizontal grip.

She looked at the crew-cut man. Moonlight reflected in her pale eyes, making them shine unnaturally brightly, like the reflective layer in a cat's eyes when struck by light.

Then the crew-cut man saw a faint smile curl at Sariye's lips.

That smile was slight, even restrained. Yet the instant he saw it, every hair on his back stood on end. He drew