| |
I made my way down the grimy, neon-lit streets of Westhold, toward the working-class district. This place wouldn't win any awards or be featured in a shiny magazine article about the top places to live in the U.S., but I loved it. There was a realness under all the grit and grime. A defiance, almost. Like the city was saying “fuck you, I’ll exist whether you like it or not!” Boozed up construction workers partied on streets filled with dirty, under-aged pickpockets and homeless bums who were just glad to be inside the city gates, away from the fiends and curs. It might seem depressing to some people, but to me it was just...life. In the end, all any of us wanted was to feel alive. And to maybe forget for one fucking minute that there were monsters lurking around every corner.
I pushed open the door of one of my favorite bars. The dimly lit interior was filled with overly loud metal covers of bluegrass hits from fifty years ago, and the crowd ranged from teens to decrepit old men, and everything in between. It was an easy place for a freak like me to blend in with the so-called normies.
I sidled up to the dented, well-worn bar and waved down a bartender. Two cheap whiskey sours in hand, I retreated to a dark corner to people watch while I got shitfaced. It was my one vice in life.
Oh, who was I kidding? My whole life was nothing but vices. I chugged one of the drinks and set the empty glass aside, then nursed the other one. My eyes followed the seething mass of people as they danced, drank, shot pool, and talked shit.
I wondered what that was like? To finish up a hard, boring day's work at the quarry or the grids where they were constantly trying to keep the city powered, then swindle a few bucks out of your friends at darts before you went home to your fat husband or wife and slept the whole night before you got up and did it all over again the next day.
Clearly, I needed more alcohol. Gods, I was over here sulking. That was never good.
I finished my second drink and made my way back to the bar. I could feel eyes on me, as usual. Probably trying to figure out what I was. A short, curvy girl in a pink dress that was two sizes too small pressed up close to me at the bar. "Hey there," she purred, giving me a pout with her glossy pink lips. "Wanna dance?"
I shook my head. "No thanks." Taking my drink, I left her behind, pouting at me. She could pick up some other lucky drunk. I was pretty sure she didn't want what I had, and I wasn't in the mood for the bitter rejection that always followed that revelation.
I was on my fourth drink, or...sixth, maybe...when a commotion drew my attention off to one side of the dance floor. A bunch of rough-looking human guys were clustered around, pointing and gesturing at something. I shook my head and moved further away. I knew the look of a pack of rabid dogs when I saw it. And I wasn't going to let them kill my buzz. If I was very careful and maintained it, I might sleep tonight.
I took over an unoccupied barstool by a table filled with empty beer bottles, but devoid of people. A good-looking human guy stumbled over and snagged one of the bottles, looking into it then frowning when he realized it was somehow mysteriously empty. His flushed cheeks and damp hair said he'd been drinking like a fish and dancing like it was his job. His slightly unfocused eyes lit on me and he did a double take, then he grinned. "Hey, sweetheart. I need another drink. You want one too, lovely lady?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Not from you."
He gaped at my less than nice refusal. Someone laughed so loud it carried over the music and the drunk guy turned to see what the commotion was, stumbling away to where the crowd of ruffians was gathered. I sighed. It was going to get stupid in here, I could just feel it.
Time for me to get the fuck out.
I chugged the rest of my drink and grabbed my leather jacket from where I'd draped it across the sticky table. Shrugging into the jacket, I rolled my shoulders, happy to see that the one I'd dislocated earlier wasn't hurting anymore.
The crowd of jackasses parted for a minute, and I saw a good-looking guy seated at a booth in the corner, his square jaw clenched as a fake smile stretched his lips. His bright green eyes glittered with something dangerous. The ears I could see sticking up through his curly red hair looked just a little bit pointed. Yep. Definitely time for me to leave.
One of the humans reached out and upended the mug he was holding, pouring dark ale over the seated guy's head. Humans. So dumb.
What would possess a powerless human to poke at someone who was clearly not? For all the idiots knew, that guy could turn feral and rip their faces off. It happened all the time.
But then, I guess they'd get what they wanted, wouldn't they? They'd have a reason to put him down. And they did have safety in numbers. Most of the people in here were human. This bar was one of the more accepting of curs, as long as we passed well enough that they could just ignore us. But that didn't mean they liked us any more than the rest of the human population.
I sighed and started to turn away. The redhead slid to the edge of his booth and stood. The pack of humans howled with laughter and taunts, and I looked their way again. Well shit. Everything suddenly made sense now. The humans were feeling bold because they had the upper hand. The not-quite-human was maybe four feet tall, tops.
I took in his long torso and his abnormally stout limbs, his awkward hitching gait. Son of a bitch. He sure hadn't won the genetic lottery with his human genes.
I turned away. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I was going to go home and sleep with my happy little buzz.
The sound of a body hitting the floor had me hunching my shoulders. I turned slowly, hating that I thought this should be my problem, Gods damn it.
I was surprised to find it was a human lying on the floor, not the little person. The little guy held up his hands and shook his head, flinging drops of beer from his hair as he backed away. "Not my fault," he insisted as the guy's cronies tried to shake their fallen comrade awake. He'd apparently hit his head when he fell. I noticed a puddle of something at his feet, probably from the spilled drink.
I could see this was going to go bad. And I really shouldn't care. But I just couldn't fucking help myself. I was such an idiot.
I sighed and threw myself into the group of idiots. "Ooops!" I canted sideways, grabbing onto one guy's jacket and stepping on another's foot. "Wow, I really shouldn't have had that last shot, huh?"
Someone shoved me. I "accidentally" elbowed someone in the face.
"What the fuck's your problem?" one of the guys demanded.
He fisted his hand in the front of my t-shirt, and pulled me in close. I scrambled for the wallet that I kept in my back pocket, pulling it out and pretending I was more drunk than I really was.
"Oh man, I'm sorry about that. Here let me buy you more drinks." I just accidentally flashed my hunter ID as I was fumbling about with my wallet.
The guy next to us let out a hissing whisper. "Hey dude, he's a hunter. Forget it."
The guy holding my shirt slowly let go. Good choice. Maybe he'd get to keep that hand attached to his arm.
"Come on man, you've got to be fucking kidding me," the human muttered when he looked around me and saw that the little person was gone.
I straightened my clothes, and took a step back. "Sorry about your luck, man."
"What about our drinks?"
I smiled at them, letting my fangs descend. "I think you'll just have to go without," I hissed. Turning, I left the humans gaping after me as I adjusted the gun in the holster at my hip. Sure, they were blustering assholes. But they weren't about to take on a professional hunter toting a weapon, especially after I tipped them off to my cur nature.
So much for going to that bar again anytime soon.
I walked out onto the street, stuffing my hands inside the pockets of my leather jacket. Gods damn it. Now my buzz was starting to wear off. I walked faster, hoping maybe I could get home and get some sleep while I still felt sleepy and the alcohol had some chance of numbing the nightmares. I only made it about half a block before the little guy stepped out in front of me from a dark alley.
I sighed. The guy held up his hands and gave me a mischievous smirk. "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me get out of there."
I rolled my eyes. I just could not catch a break. "Sure. Whatever."
I went to move around him, but the guy blocked my path. "Let me buy you a drink to make up for it?" he said, his green eyes twinkling.
I arched an eyebrow at him. "No thanks."
He sighed. "Come on, hunter. I'll make it worth your while." He pulled a plastic sleeve of papers from the inside pocket of his jacket and waved them at me. I narrowed my eyes. A hunter’s contract?
"I don't need any help getting work," I told him, crossing my arms.
The guy quirked a wry smile at me, his green eyes full of mischief. "'Course you don't, Sabertooth."
I groaned at the stupid nickname. "If you know who I am, then you know damned well why you should get the hell out of my way."
He waved the papers again. "I know more than your name, man. I know you've been waiting to bid on this contract all week."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Wanna hunt unicorns with me?" he said in a singsong baritone.
Mother fucker. The unicorns. There was a pack up toward the coast between here and the closest gated town of Golding. They'd been giving the border guards a run for their money. Unicorns were a bitch to kill and the bounty on these particular unicorns was even bigger than usual. But they were bid only—meaning you only got paid if you won the bidding war and had a contract. It kept hunters from fighting over the kills.
"You're a hunter?" I said in disbelief. I mean, sure, don't judge a book by its cover and all...but the guy had a distinct physical disadvantage against a pack of man-eating murder horses that could run fifty miles an hour.
His grin only widened. "I am. I'm just a lucky guy, I guess. Me and my guild have first dibs on the bounty."
I waited for the punchline.
"You know," he said with a wink. "The guild I don't have yet."
I sighed. "I work alone."
He waved the papers at me. "Not if you want unicorns."
Gods damn it. I needed that bounty. And it would take me half a dozen miscellaneous kills at least, to make the same payout as this one contract.
"Fine," I grumbled. "Buy me a drink. But that doesn't mean you're going to convince me."
He grinned. "Let's go somewhere more...friendly."
I rolled my eyes and followed him down a side street. I knew where we were headed. The bars that catered to curs and criminals were closer to the outskirts of town.
The redhead glanced at me as we walked down dark streets painted with faded neon lights, a strange expression on his face.
"What?" I growled. I hated being gawked at.
He shook his head, a damp, exhaust-scented breeze wafting up from the sewer grating to ruffle his drying red waves. "You're even prettier than the rumors said,” he commented. “It's just not fair, a face like that on a guy.”
I scowled. He didn't know the half of it. And that was fine by me. It was easier to get by as a hunter, when everyone assumed you were a guy. "You trying to pick me up for more than a job now?” I snarked. “’Cause if so, you can fuck right off."
He laughed. "Hell no. I don't do sword fights. Especially with guys who would probably kill me in my sleep."
I grinned back at him. "Wise man. You might survive the night."
We made our way across town, dodging drunks and tired hobos. I had to walk slow so the little guy could keep up with his short legs.
Which of course, made us targets for the pickpockets.
I whirled when I felt the ghost of a touch on my ass, and grabbed the skinny wrist of a small boy, about eight or nine years old. Probably either human or a weak cur. His eyes went round in his grubby face. "I didn't do nothin' mister, I swear," he gasped out, eyes darting to the sides as he looked for an out.
I growled and hauled him into a nearby alley, into the dark of a broken streetlamp. My red-haired companion ambled over and casually blocked the alley, his back to us. "Don't hurt the poor kid too bad," he whispered.
I hissed, hauling the kid behind a dumpster. Then I leaned down to stare into his terrified eyes, letting my face distort and my teeth descend, knowing my beast eyes would be glowing in the dark. He let out a squeak, but didn't call for help. So he was alone.
"Look," I said, letting my face shift back to normal. "You gotta make sure your mark isn't a mongrel next time, okay? Otherwise you'll end up dead."
He stared up at me, his bottom lip trembling "Yeah."
I let go of his wrist and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket. The paper currency of dead politicians was only good here in America, and even then, most of it had been replaced by government issue coins stamped with the likenesses of early beast-slaying heroes. "You take this—it's real—and you buy a charm. The witch lady down on second street is honest. About her work anyway. I wouldn't trust her word on anything else."
The kid nodded at me, all wide blue eyes as he swiped his sleeve across his runny nose. I stood and ruffled his hair. "Go. Don't run, be chill."
He nodded and walked calmly out of the alley like nothing had happened, the twenty stuffed into his underwear for safe keeping.
I stepped out of the alley a few minutes later and the redhead fell into step beside me. "Who woulda known the saber-toothed killer is a softie?"
Sure, I suppose it seemed soft. But I'd been in that kid's place when I was younger, and I was damned lucky I’d survived my bumbling efforts at thieving. I glanced down at the shorter guy. "You don't seem to be too surprised about that."
He just smiled like he didn't have a care in the world. "Things just tend to go well around me. Of course I’d pick a guild member with a good heart."
I paused, then narrowed my eyes as I followed along behind him while he whistled a jaunty tune. "Luck magic," I muttered.
He shrugged. "Being what I am should come in handy for something, don't you think?"
I often thought the same thing about myself. But I didn't share that out loud. "You're a leprechaun?"
Of course, they weren't called leprechauns back where they came from, but humans insisted on slapping labels on the creatures that came through the rift, so now we had whole races of rabid fiends named stupid things like unicorns or leprechauns.
Maybe we should just let the fiends take over after all. Humans were so dumb sometimes.
The little guy at my side tucked his hands into his pockets and ambled along while I glared at him. Leprechauns were assholes. And they tended to stay hidden away in little enclaves of their own kind. Like most of the humanoid-looking fiends, they were more feral than they appeared. They had very little in the way of human morals. And they hated everyone—fiend, human, and cur alike.
"A little far from home, aren't you?" I asked as we crossed a pockmarked street and headed toward the cur-friendly tavern a block over.
He waved a hand dismissively, but I could hear the bitterness in his voice. "Damaged goods. They aren't really interested in keeping a half-leprechaun around. Especially when his human half is so fucked up."
I rolled that around for a while. Leprechauns were on average kind of on the short side. But this guy's proportions were all off. So, he wasn't just short, he must have inherited dwarfism from his human side. Funny how it often worked out that way, with the human side giving curs all kinds of random issues, despite their non-human blood. Again, I didn't share with him that we had more in common than he knew.
I wasn't out to bond. I just wanted my unicorn money, damn it.
We were almost to the tavern, when the door opened and a group of guys spilled out, voices raised and anger floating in the air like a tangible thing.
Gods damn it. What now? Was everyone out to piss me off tonight? I glanced up at the full moon overhead and sighed, thinking there might be a reason why my relatives were out running around like animals right now.