The girl was unmemorable from her pale, slicked-back hair, to the straight line of her mouth, to the perfectly buttoned dress that skimmed the tops of stocking-covered knees. I would have dismissed her all-together, save for the preternatural stillness with which she stood by the wall.
My eye watched hers as the door’s chime sounded, and her dead brown eyes shot sideways. The movement was so fast, so unexpected, that I nearly missed the dagger slide from her sleeve into her hand.
I sighed, drained my bland beer, and reached for my gun. Life really was a perpetual hunt.