Gates of Thread and Stone(6)

Donating blood for the energy stones always tempted me. Depending on how much I gave, I could cover the cost of the runners’ tax, and Reev would never be the wiser. The problem was that the energy clinics were rarely clean, and a bunch of people died every year from infection. The energy drives, however, were sponsored by medics from the White Court, so they were probably safe.

But it was best not to test it. I wasn’t keen on dying, and my abilities to manipulate time didn’t include rewinding it—with the exception of that first experience, which had been a fluke.

I’d just have to work some extra hours and eat what Avan was willing to give me for a few days.

“Come for a job?” asked a voice like gravel.

I turned, backing up into Reev. Reev’s hand came down on my shoulder. It felt like a shield.

The owner of the Raging Bull, Reev’s boss, was a middle-aged man named Joss. He was thin, with orange hair that made his loose, pale skin look sallow. He smelled like cloves and something earthy and damp. I kept hoping he’d fall into the river and drown.

He snapped his yellow-stained fingers at the nearly naked woman, who then darted down the hall, but his eyes remained on me. When I refused to look away, his mouth twisted, and he gave my body a lazy inspection.

I leaned back against Reev, letting his warmth chase away the chill in Joss’s eyes.

“She just brought me dinner,” Reev said. “Go on, Kai. Get home.” He nudged me toward the door.

“Let me know when you change your mind,” Joss said, winking at me. He had fleshy lips that drooped at the corners and flapped when he talked. “I could get you double Reev’s salary for your first time.” He cocked his head and took another look at me. “Oh, yeah. Definitely a virgin.”

“Joss,” Reev said. I was probably the only person who could hear the anger in his voice.

“Come on, Reev, everyone’s hurting for credits. Use what you got. Or rather, what she’s got.”

To be honest, I’d thought about it. There weren’t a lot of other places I could get that many credits. It would be enough to get us out of the Labyrinth like Reev wanted.

But it would hurt Reev, and his approval meant more to me than anything. Not to mention the fact that Joss creeped me out.

I took half the bread for my own dinner and munched on it as I left the docks. In front of the bridge, a woman pulled her bawling kid along the dirt path. Out of habit, I studied her face, even though I knew I wouldn’t see anything familiar. Nine years in Ninurta, and I’d yet to find anyone who looked enough like me to make me wonder.

“Quit that,” the woman said with a sharp tug on her son’s arm. “Get on home or I’ll let the gargoyles eat you.”

I snorted. Reev had never given me the gargoyles story, but I had heard it whispered at school. Parents told their kids that if they misbehaved, the gargoyles that lived in the Outlands would climb Ninurta’s wall and slip into their rooms in search of easy prey. The more superstitious people believed the gargoyles were demons who’d sprung from the bowels of the earth, cracked open after the events of Rebirth.

Sounded silly to me, but considering what I was capable of, I couldn’t completely scoff at the idea.

Not that I wanted to compare myself to gargoyles.

Reev had reassured me that the stories were all nonsense and the gargoyles had never breached the outer wall. But just in case, I had made him promise. Unlike me, Reev kept his promises.





CHAPTER 3




THE NEXT MORNING, a sandwich waited for me on the counter. Reev had written “Eat only with a smile” on the paper wrapper. I unwrapped it and then poured myself the last bit of water from the pitcher. I’d get some more from the pump later. Reev didn’t trust the pump water, but it tasted good enough. A little metallic, but I didn’t see the harm in that.

I sat on a wobbly stool and ate at the counter. On his cot against the wall, Reev turned in his sleep. He came in from work around dawn, and he always made sure to leave me breakfast before getting into bed.

He lay on his side, arm thrown over his face so I could see only his rumpled head above his bicep. The only time he looked fully relaxed was when he was sleeping.

At the back of his neck, beneath the mess of his hair, was an elaborate red tattoo in the general shape of a rectangle, tapered at each end. It wasn’t visible right now, but I knew the design by heart. The lines were raised like a scar. Around the edge, the skin was shiny and pulled tight, several shades paler than the rest of him.

I’d asked about the tattoo more than once, but Reev refused to talk about it. All I knew was that he hid it with high-collared shirts and his hair.

His large body fit awkwardly on the tiny cot. Everything past his calves hung off the end, and his broad shoulders didn’t fit across the width. I had no idea how he could sleep like that. As amusing as the sight was, there was also something fascinating in the way he slept—the slight part of his mouth, the slack muscles, the inelegant sprawl of long limbs.

Some mornings, I lay in my cot against the opposite wall and watched his chest rise and fall.

Our entire living space was one room—one freight container, to be exact. Trains, like most industrial technology, had been out of service since Rebirth, but there were still remnants in the junkyard from which the East Quarter had sprung. Rows and rows of towering freight containers formed a giant cube of metal decay. The Labyrinth had been built around and inside it; walls and roofs erected, and hallways and staircases shoved into the spaces to connect everything. The only people who knew how to navigate the Labyrinth were the residents, and we liked to keep our secrets.