Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(42)

“Vagina?”

“Don’t be daft.” After yanking the oversized hat down and covering my eyebrows, he lifted the collar of my coat to shield my face. “Keep your head down. If you think juicers are a problem in the parking lots, you haven’t seen anything yet. This neighborhood isn’t used to beautiful women outside of the powerful untouchables.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He finished tucking away the loose strands of my black hair. “They’d love nothing more than getting their hands on a woman so they could bind with her.”

I shivered. Juicing was stealing a Mage’s light for an energy high. Binding was an intimate act of sharing sexual light between couples. Having a Mage do that against a person’s will was the equivalent of rape. A rogue I could handle, but I started imagining gangs of men descending upon me like vultures. Christian was a skilled fighter, but impalement wood could immobilize him. I set my mouth in a grim line and tried walking like a man.

Christian laughed. “Strut like you’ve got a pair between your legs, not like you need to take a shite.”

“I’ve never had a pair between my legs.”

“Is that so?”

I shoved him hard enough that he lost his balance and stumbled into the gutter. “If these black marketeers live on the shanty side of town, maybe the higher authority should do a raid and clean up the riffraff.”

We turned a corner, and Christian pointed at a pile of rubble across the street. “Do you think they haven’t tried? That’s why they call it the Bricks. You’ll see plenty more piles of them scattered throughout. Over the years, some of the buildings were destroyed in Breed battles. No one rebuilds out here.”

“Don’t the humans notice?”

“We have insiders who work to keep city officials out.”

“So we’re protecting the criminals?”

“Aye. Depraved men who would love nothing more than to start a war with mankind. Better the humans keep out. The higher authority can’t control these men, so there’s an unspoken agreement that we’ll turn a blind eye so long as they don’t call attention to themselves.”

We walked by a vagrant leaning against a building, and I pulled my lips in even tighter. I must have looked like a feral Chihuahua, but Christian had me paranoid, so I tried to look as crazy as possible.

After we passed the guy, Christian quietly said, “Don’t look back.” Then he released a boisterous laugh and patted me on the shoulder.

I glanced at a pile of rubble that was once a wall. “This place looks like a tornado ripped through it. Why would anyone want to live like this?”

“Some people thrive amid disaster.”

“There are better sides of town to live in,” I said, kicking aside a paper bag.

“They have freedom out here, and freedom means power. Some are illegally made immortals, but most are ancient. They rejected the higher authority and local Councils when they were established. Not everyone wanted to abide by rules. You’ll find something like the Bricks in every city.”

“What about small towns?”

“They congregate in the woods.”

“Like you?”

“That’s my home away from home.”

“That’s not a home; that’s a hideout. What are you hiding from?”

“Your cooking.”

I dodged his gaze. Christian had won that round.

In the blue haze of twilight, I mentally counted my weapons. Small blade in the heel of my boot, a push dagger disguised as a buckle, and another hooked to my belt on the side. I unbuttoned my coat for easy access. Only one of them was a stunner, so I needed to make sure that this time I didn’t miss.

“Do you know anyone who sells good weapons?” I asked. “There weren’t any that caught my eye at Pawn of the Dead.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Something I can carry on my arm or beneath my shirt that’s easily concealed. I also wouldn’t mind a few impalement stakes.”

He gave me a cross look.

“Aw, don’t look so glum,” I said, hooking my arm in his. “I’d only use it against you on special occasions.”

“I can find you a weapon, but if you’re looking for something specific or need sizing adjustments, you’ll want to talk to Shepherd. Old Mother Hubbard has nothing on his cupboard.”

I dropped my arm to my side when we passed a raucous bar.

“What are you looking at?” a man snarled. “You got a problem?”

Christian kept his head high and his eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead. I didn’t look back, but my ears perked up. Christian had better hearing, and based on his cool stride, he didn’t seem concerned that the man would follow us.

He pointed toward a red building on the right. “That’s the one. Do me a favor and try not to kill anyone. All we’re doing is following a lead.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

When we reached the entrance, the doors were locked. We needed either a key or someone inside to buzz us in.

I folded my arms. “Now what?”

Christian selected a random button.

“Yeah?” a surly man answered.

“Pizza delivery.”

“I didn’t order no pizza.”