My effing boot caught on another bit of heaved pavement, and this time I nearly faceplanted into another cloaked form. I managed to divert to a wall instead, my shoulder slamming into the brick. In my effort to avoid spending quality time as a public spectacle, an involuntary, and all too human, cry burst from my lips.
The hooded head tilted toward me.
Effing hell.I got back on my feet and hurried away, fake tail swaying in my wake. But I sensed a new set of prying eyes…
There were bigger worries on these streets than frankenfruitsellers and irrational reactions to swearing. Minutes and a full block of shops later, my instincts prickled.
My brother would have called me “stupid” for venturing out like this. Actually, he would have had far worse things to say. But dammit, staying safe in the compound only ensured I’d fulfill whatever effed up destiny he decreed.
I wanted so much more than that.
The reflections in the shop windows told me the cause of my unease was much more tastefully dressed than me, and therefore likely human. He didn’t look like the guy I’d almost plowed into. Maybe it was my imagination that he was following me?
I looked for a break in traffic and crossed the road. Gasoline was scarce, so the powered transports were interspersed with animals pulling wagons. Of course, with animals, what comes in must go out.
Now covered in crap, the exasperation with my current footwear just intensified. The streetlights flickered fitfully as I passed beneath them—they’d soon do their best to dispel the gloom as evening moved toward night.
I pulled my hood high around my goggles and yellow scarf. My senses were honed by twenty-one years of surviving, and they told me that in the wake of the gang territory dispute, the street was much quieter than usual. A few determined vendors—a mixed lot of humans and aliens—lurked in the door alcoves, selling whatever they might have made or, more likely, stolen. There was a time when buskers were still brave enough to perform on these streets—but as I thought about it, I couldn’t remember when I’d last seen one.
Those were not skills that the Drakes found useful, and anything they didn’t sanction, tended to disappear.
My admirer crossed the street with me.
I dropped one hand free from my cloak, and used my teeth to pull the mitten off as I slowed down. I then hid my very human hand in the heavy folds of my pocket.
My stalker slowed too, but closed the distance between us. Analley loomed ahead, and I sensed him make his move, darting forward.
I waited until he reached for me. He put me in a headlock from behind and placed his hand at my throat, clearly intending to push me into the alley.
I spun away. Or tried to. My effing oversized boots got tangled, and instead of my smoothly executed counterattack, I ended up stumbling. I did, however, manage to break free and snap the knife hiding in the spring-loaded sheath on my right forearm to my hand, waving it as I faced the thug. “Back off, asshole,” I said, deliberately roughening and deepening my voice.
Movement from behind—a strong arm wrapped around me, crushing my knife hand in its powerful grip until it dropped away.
That theassholewas there at all was more than alarming. That there was enough of them to cover contingencies meantgang. That they hadn’t already knifed me indicated their intent?—
My bulky clothes now worked against me as I struggled. I had another knife, but the arm holding me was like iron, clamping my own to my side. The one who’d tracked me reached to pull my hood down, and yanked the scarf and goggles off my head.
Strands of the hair I’d pinned back fell free. From the darkness of his own hood, I saw him grin.
“You make a prettier bitch than Drolgok,” he said.
My gut clenched. If I didn’t come up with something good, I’d end up in their damned harem. I went for the ultimate discouraging tactic. “I have GADs.”
“So do I,” growled the one holding me.
That was likely untrue, because I’d sensed the tremor in his arm. Genital Atrophy Disease, the latest sexually transmitted plague brought to us from the cosmos, wasverycontagious. All bodily fluids carried it…
Nothing male wanted the wordatrophyassociated withgenitals.
I snapped my teeth, and he flinched, confirmingmy suspicions. He pulled back enough that I was able to belt him in the knee with the heel of my foot, which further loosened his hold.
I clenched my other hand, and the second spring-loaded knife shot into it. A millisecond later, I’d buried that blade into the bicep of strong-arm guy.
He yelped and released me, yanking my second knife away with his arm. The first guy made a grab for me, and I spun, my foot slamming into the side of his head. The heavy boot threw off my aim, but it was still enough to make him stagger.
I turned to bolt out of the alley before the rest of the gang could arrive.
Instead, I skidded to a halt. The rest of the gang wouldn’t be arriving.
