Infidel by Kameron Hurley Page A

business of the Queen’s, so far as they were concerned. Still, she liked the idea of somebody filing some obscure paperwork on her behalf.  
    Nyx motioned for Suha to pop the trunk, dug the burnous-wrapped bel dame’s head out of the back and slung it over her shoulder. The burnous had eaten most of the blood, but it was still stained with amber-brown splotches.
    She leaned into the driver’s side window and nodded to the side street. “There’s a good Ras Tiegan place two streets over called the Montrouge. Get the kid a soda and some curried dog.”  
    Eshe grimaced.  
    “You watch yourself in there,” Suha said.  
    “You watch yourself out here ,” Nyx said. She walked up to the front gate.
    There was a young woman posted, just a kid, maybe twenty. Couldn’t have served a day at the front. She had clear skin and shiny eyes, just like the cocky bel dame Nyx was bringing in. Definitely not a day at the front.  
    “Here to report a rogue bel dame,” Nyx said.  
    “I gotta take your identification,” the woman said. Nyx held out her hand.  
    The woman wiped Nyx’s finger across her portable slide. Nyx felt a wisp of pressure as some tailored bug skein sucked up a blood sample.  
    Nyx watched the woman’s reaction as the file came up. The girl didn’t blink.  
    “You’ve got level one clearance. You can go as far as the reclamation office without being cleaned.” She punched open the gate.  
    Nyx slipped inside. The gate clanged behind her. Old, old metal—the sort of stuff that came off derelicts. She walked across the courtyard, past the bakkie barns. A couple of tissue mechanics raised their heads as she passed. Otherwise, nothing stirred on the other side of the gate.  
    The bounty reclamation office was a single-story building of amber stone. Most of the original arches had been whittled away by small arms fire, and what remained had been badly reconstructed with concrete and crumbling brick. Only half of the bel dame oath was visible. The complete line, the heart of the bel dame oath, was “My life for a thousand.” All that was clearly readable above the office now was “My life.” Nyx thought that somehow appropriate, knowing what she did about bel dames.  
    She hesitated at the stoop. It’d been a while since she crossed this threshold.  
    “Well, shit,” she said aloud, and moved the weight of the head to her other shoulder.  
    She walked into the musty interior of the office. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust.   A kid clerk stood behind the counter, chin in hand, staring at some misty drama leaking out from the radio on the counter. She jerked her head up when she saw Nyx and turned off the radio. The images began to dissipate in the dry air.  
    Nyx thumped the burnous-wrapped head onto the counter.  
    The girl put on a haughty face to cover her surprise. It was fun to watch. Nyx figured she wasn’t a day over sixteen.  
    “You have a note?” the girl asked, casually extending her hand.  
    “It’s not a note,” Nyx said.  
    The girl’s posture changed, then, subtly—enough for Nyx to judge that she’d had some bel dame training already.  
    “I’m here to deliver a rogue bel dame,” Nyx said.  
    The girl’s eyes widened. She shifted away from the counter. “You killed a… bel dame?”
    “More or less. You’ve got another thirty hours or so before the head goes bad. They put the bug in your head yet? We’re hard to kill for a reason.”
    “The… bug?”
    “Call whoever’s in charge of black marks, all right? I’m filing a report.”  
    Another woman walked in from the back. She was a gray-haired matron with a face like death and vinegar. One hand rested on the pistol at her hip. The barrel glowed green. It was some new organic model. Suha would know it.  
    “You left me a long time with your runt,” Nyx said.  
    The matron crinkled her face into the semblance of a smile. “A surprise or two is good for her. Teaches her to pay