Iron's Prophecy (The Iron Fey #4.5)(27)
But telling Stick that would only upset him more, so I pretended not to hear. “Where are the others?” I asked as we walked down the hall, picking our way over rubble and broken glass. Stick trailed morosely, dragging his feet, kicking bits of rock and plaster with every step. I resisted the urge to smack him. Marc was a decent guy; even though he was Registered, he didn’t treat us Unregistereds like vermin, and even spoke to us on occasion when he was making his rounds at the Wall. I also knew Stick had feelings for Gracie, though he would never act on them. But I was the one who shared most of my food with him, since he was usually too scared to go scavenging by himself. Ungrateful little snot. I couldn’t watch out for everyone; he knew that.
“Lucas isn’t back yet,” Stick finally mumbled as we came to my room, one of the many empty spaces along the hall. In the years I had been here, I’d fixed it up the best I could. Plastic bags covered the shattered windows, keeping out the rain and damp. An old mattress lay in one corner with my blanket and pillow. I’d even managed to find a folding table, a couple chairs and a plastic shelf for various clutter, little things I wanted to keep. I’d built a nice little lair for myself, and the best part was my door still locked from the inside, so I could get some privacy if I wanted.
“What about Rat?” I asked, pushing on my door.
As the door squeaked open, a wiry boy with lank brown hair jerked around, beady eyes widening. He was older than me and Stick, with sharp features and a front tooth that stuck out like a fang, giving him a permanent sneer.
Rat swore when he saw me, and my blood boiled. This was my space, my territory. He had no right to be here. “Rat,” I snarled, bursting through the doorway. “Why are you snooping around my room? Looking for things to steal?”
Rat held up his arm, and my stomach went cold. In one grubby hand, he held an old, faded book, the cover falling off, the pages crumpled. I recognized it instantly. It was a made-up story, a fantasy, the tale of four kids who went through a magic wardrobe and found themselves in a strange new world. I’d read it more times than I could remember, and although I sneered at the thought of a magical land with friendly, talking animals, there were times when I wished, in my most secret moments, that I could find a hidden door that would take us all out of this place.
“What the hell is this?” Rat said, holding up the book. Having been caught red-handed, he quickly switched to the offensive. “Books? Why are you collecting garbage like that? As if you even know how to read.” He snorted and tossed the book to the floor. “Do you know what the vamps would do, if they found out? Does Lucas know about your little trash collection?”
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped, stepping farther into the room. “This is my room, and I’ll keep what I want. Now get lost, before I tell Lucas to throw you out on your skinny white ass.”
Rat snickered. He hadn’t been with the group long, a few months at most. He claimed he’d come from another sector and that his old gang had kicked him out, but he’d never said why. I suspected it was because he was a lying, thieving bastard. Lucas wouldn’t even have considered letting him stay if we hadn’t lost two members the previous winter. Patrick and Geoffrey, two Unregistered brothers who were daring to the point of stupidity, who bragged the vampires would never catch them. They were too quick, they claimed. They knew all the best escape tunnels. And then one night they went out looking for food as usual…and never came back.
Kicking the book aside, Rat took a threatening step forward and straightened so that he loomed over me. “You got a big mouth, Allie,” he snarled, his breath hot and foul. “Better watch out. Lucas can’t be around to protect you all the time. Think about that.” He leaned in, crowding me. “Now get out of my face, before I bitch slap you across the room. I’d hate for you to start crying in front of your boyfriend.”
He tried pushing me back. I dodged, stepped close and slammed my fist into his nose as hard as I could.
Rat shrieked, staggering backward, hands flying to his face. Stick yelped from behind me. Blinking through tears, Rat screamed a curse and swung at my head, clumsy and awkward. I ducked and shoved him into the wall, hearing the thump of his head against the plaster.
“Get out of my room,” I growled as Rat slid down the wall, dazed. Stick had fled to a corner and was hiding behind the table. “Get out and stay out, Rat. If I see you in here again, I swear you’ll be eating through a straw the rest of your life.”
Rat pushed himself upright, leaving a smear of red on the plaster. Wiping his nose, he spat a curse at me and stumbled out, kicking over a chair as he left. I slammed and locked the door behind him.
“Bastard. Thieving, lying bastard. Ow.” I looked down at my fist and frowned. My knuckle had been cut on Rat’s tooth and was starting to well with blood. “Ew. Oh, great, I hope I don’t catch something nasty.”
“He’s going to be mad,” Stick said, venturing out from behind the table, pale and frightened. I snorted.
“So what? Let him try something. I’ll break his nose the other way.” Grabbing a rag from the shelf, I pressed it to my knuckle. “I’m tired of listening to his crap, thinking he can do anything he wants just because he’s bigger. He’s had it coming for a while.”
“He might take it out on me,” Stick said, and I bristled at the accusing tone, as if I should know better. As if I didn’t think of how it might affect him.