Talen Page 4

  “We have enough to share. What does it matter if I give some of it away?”

  “You prolong the inevitable. Would you give a man food and water while he bleeds to death?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Ridiculous! I’m tired of this rebellious phase you seem to be in. It stops now.”

  “No. As long as I’m living like this, I’m going to give what extra I have to people who don’t have anything.”

  “Then maybe you should just go live like them. It’s obvious you will never fit in here, so you might as well just leave.”

  “Never went back, either.” I shake my head at myself when I realize I spoke the words aloud. I focus on my footing and ignore the unwanted memories in my head.

  About halfway to the tree where I usually enter the Thaves community, my fingers brush up against something on the wall to my left. I pull my hand back reflexively and then reach out again to determine what I touched.

  It’s a rope.

  I narrow my eyes as I grasp the rope with one hand and give it a quick yank. The rope doesn’t come down, and when I look up at the top of the wall, I realize there is a grappling hook at the end of the rope.

  All thoughts of the past, as well as thoughts of what I might steal tonight, leave my head. I grip my hands into fists and roll my shoulders as I understand what the rope means.

  Someone has snuck their way into Hilltop. If this person is caught, the Thaves will realize they are vulnerable behind their wall. What they decide to do with this information is unknown but will certainly be bad for Plastictown as well as my livelihood.

  “I don’t think so,” I whisper to myself. I grasp the rope and start to climb. Scaling the wall isn’t easy, but climbing is an activity I’m very accustomed to, so it takes me very little time. On top of the wall, I find a second rope and grappling hook leading to the ground below. I make my way down and crouch at the foot of the wall, carefully looking all around me. I see no one outside.

  Only a handful of houses have lights on in the windows. It’s late, and even the Thaves have to save their candles and battery powered lamps. I scan the houses, looking for what might be considered the easiest and most lucrative to the usual thief.

  I slink to the largest of the homes but find no sign of an intruder. The house beside it has a light in the upstairs window, making it a more difficult target. The next house is quiet and empty. Though I can see hoofprints near the driveway, there is no sign of a horse.

  Moving around to the back of the house, I notice an open window on the second floor.

  “Too easy,” I whisper.

  I enter through a cellar door and quietly climb the steps up to the main level of the house. Looking around at the artwork on the walls and the expensive wooden furniture, I know I would find lots of interesting items to return to more deserving owners, but that is not my current goal. I need to find the rival within these walls and take care of my business.

  I step carefully, flattening myself against the wall as my heart thumps in my chest. Turning my head the slightest amount, I see a figure walk across the room. I know immediately that the figure is not one of the inhabitants of the house but the thief I seek. I take a slight step away, pushing myself into a corner to watch this adversary in action.

  I’ve chased more than one thief out of my territory before, and I have no reservations about chasing out another. However, if this is someone I’ve encountered in the past, they aren’t going to make it out of the area alive.

  I don’t give second chances.

  I watch the figure from the corner of the room as I stand completely still to keep from being noticed. I examine the thief’s movements carefully, determining that my rival is both female and dexterous. This is not the first time she’s ransacked a house, and she knows which items are the most valuable and easiest to carry. She removes batteries, silverware, and coins from drawers around the house and places them silently in a satchel around her shoulder. As she grabs another item from the shelf, she glances over her shoulder, and I can see her face in the dim light.

  She looks to be in her mid-twenties with high cheekbones and full lips. She has black hair and likely brown eyes, though I can’t be sure from this distance. I haven’t seen her before—I would have remembered. Though I’ve encountered a number of female thieves, she is definitely not one I know.

  I follow her silently into the next room. She moves around a plush couch and skims her fingers over a row of books on a shelf. She tilts her head to get a better look at the titles, running her finger over the spines like a blind person reading braille. As she focuses on the books, I make my move.

  I take a step away from the wall, closing the distance between us. She places a finger on top of a book and starts to pull it out as I move up behind her.

  With quick, silent movements, I reach out and grab the figure in the dark. Half a second later, my hand closes around her throat, and I press the tip of my knife against her back, right at the base of her spine. The book falls to the floor with a muted thud, and I feel the muscles in her throat constrict as she tries to draw in breath.

  “Make no sound.”

  I pull her backward, mostly to throw her off-balance but also to get her away from the windows and any potentially prying eyes. Thaves tend to watch their own communities carefully, and I don’t need a neighbor sounding the alarm because they’ve seen us. In the hallway, I continue to grip the thief’s throat tightly as I pull her closer to me, the flat of my blade pressed against her spine.

  “You are in the wrong place,” I whisper against her cheek, “and you are here at what is most certainly the wrong time.”

  I loosen my grip a little to allow her to take a breath. She remains still and doesn’t speak as I shift again, placing my arm across her neck and bringing her roughly against me. I keep my left hand low, but move the tip of the blade from her spine to her back, near her kidney.

  “You are going to listen carefully,” I tell her, “and do exactly as I say. If you do not do so, you die. Is that clear?”

  She nods her head once.

  If she knew me, she would know that my threat is an idle one. If I were to kill her here, I would have no way to clean up the mess before I would be discovered. Thankfully, she doesn’t know me and appears to take my words to heart.

  “Take the things you have stolen and place them back in their proper drawers and shelves. Return them exactly where you found them. Understand?”

  She nods again, and her shoulders slump in defeat.

  “Quietly.” I release her neck and grip the top of her jacket to keep her in check. “Start with that book.”

  She glances at me, looking properly contrite and more than a little frightened. I glare at her, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Unimpressed, I push her back to the shelf to return the book. Once it’s back in place, I direct her along as she removes items from her satchel and puts them back where she found them.

  As she sets the last item in a cabinet near the front door, I mentally prepare the “this is my territory” speech I have given to other thieves I’ve caught. I loosen my grip on the back of her jacket so I can spin her around and stare her in the face when I order her to leave this area and never return, half hoping she will break down into tears, but I don’t quite get the chance.

  In a flash, the thief bends and twists with speed I haven’t encountered before. At the same time, she ducks out of my grasp and spins around. Any contriteness or fear is completely gone from her eyes, replaced by a look of malice that sends a shiver down my spine. I slash at her with the knife in my left hand, but she ducks away with incredible speed, and I almost stumble. As I reach for my second knife, her fist connects with my jaw.

  Hard.

  I fly backwards into a cabinet and then drop to the floor on my ass. A vase on the shelf tumbles, and I barely catch it in the crook of my elbow before it falls to the ground and smashes into a hundred pieces.

  Realizing that I’ve just been caught horribly off
-guard, I leap back to my feet. It’s a mistake, and I know immediately that I should have stayed on the ground a little longer. Dizziness overwhelms me for a moment, causing me to stumble and almost drop the vase.

  Recovering quickly, I scowl at the woman as she turns from me and leaps up the stairs to the second floor. I shake my head to make sure it’s clear and growl between my teeth. I carefully replace the vase and then run up the stairs after her. When I reach the top of the stairs, I’m just in time to see the door at the end of the hallway close. I race to the door, but she already has it locked.

  I can’t kick at the handle of the door without alerting the Thaves to the break-in, disrupting my entire routine. Instead, I fish out my lock pick to get inside without damaging the handle, but when I enter the room, all I see is the open back window. I look outside to find her racing across the yard in the direction of the wall.

  “Dammit!” I close the window and quickly retrace my steps to the cellar door, close it quietly, and then attempt to catch up with the thief.

  She has a good head start on me, and moving without detection usually means moving fairly slowly. I keep my pace as fast as I dare, hoping she is heading back to the same place along the wall where she came in and that I can catch up with her there.

  When I arrive at the wall, she’s already most of the way up the rope. I grab the end and hoist myself into the air, using my feet on the wall to aid in my ascent. I’m fast but not fast enough. By the time I am halfway up, she cuts the rope at the top. I gasp in surprise, and my hands automatically grip at a higher point on the rope, as if that would make any difference. The top of the wall speeds away, and I fall to the ground with a thud. As I lie there, flat on my back, the remainder of the rope falls on top of me.

  I brace myself, waiting for the sirens to go off and alert the Thaves to the presence of an intruder, but nothing happens. I breathe a sigh of relief before glaring up overhead.

  Looking up, I see the figure on the top of the wall, leaning over a little and staring back at me. It’s too dark to see her features, but I have the feeling she’s smiling with a toothy, self-satisfied grin as she raises her hand and holds up her middle finger. A moment later, she disappears over the top of the wall.

  Despite the pain, I find myself shaking with quiet laughter.

  “Bitch,” I mutter under my breath.

  Chapter 4

  I make my way back to Plastictown with a sore back and empty pockets.

  All my amusement is gone, and now I’m just annoyed with myself. The night has been a complete failure on all sides, and I’m not very good at dealing with defeat. In my head, I keep seeing the figure of the thief looking over the edge of the wall and flipping me off, but I no longer find it funny.

  She played at being frightened to get me to relax my guard, and I bought into her act.

  “Bitch,” I mutter for the tenth time. “This shit is not over.”

  By the time I reached to spot where the thief climbed over the wall, she was long gone. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I’ve always been successful at scaring off any competition, which is one of the reasons I’ve stayed in this area as long as I have.

  Maybe it is time to move on.

  I stomp down the trail, not caring if anyone hears me at this point. Though it can’t be much later than midnight—much sooner than my normal quitting time—I need to take a step back, determine my next move, and refocus.

  Along the edge of the river is a nice level place where I often sleep, but as I rub at my lower back, the idea of an actual bed is more and more appealing. Ava did ask me to stay a couple more days, but at this hour, she would still be working.

  I wonder how much Ava actually makes on an average night and if I could cover the expense of her taking the night off. I have some coins hidden away I could offer her, but would she take them? Ava prides herself on being self-sufficient. If only I’d found something to trade, but alas, I have nothing in my pack that would be of interest to her.

  I rub my back again. I suppose it can’t hurt to ask if she’d take coin.

  The merchant street is relatively quiet. The tavern on the other side of the river is likely still open and busy, but here the booths and carts are all closed for the night, and the people of Plastictown are sleeping.

  As I approach Ava’s tent, a burly man with a long moustache pulls back the entrance flap and ducks out, still fastening his belt. His eyes are bright, and he grins as he looks at me.

  “I think she’s done for the night,” the man says with a dark laugh. He reaches down and adjusts his crotch. “She’s not recovering from that one too quick!”

  I stare through him as he walks away from me, wrapped up in my own thoughts and only barely hearing his words. The only thing that registers is that Ava isn’t busy at the moment.

  After waiting a minute to give Ava some time to redress, I smack my hand against the side of her tent a couple of times and wait for her to answer. I stare down the street as I wait, half looking for the dark-haired woman who got away. Of course, she doesn’t appear.

  I tap at the tent again, sighing impatiently and wondering what’s taking Ava so long.

  “Ava!” I finally call out. “Ava, it’s me!”

  When I get no answer, I push back the entrance flap and peer in. The air smells like sweat and cum, which I expect, but there’s another odor as well, something darker.

  “Ava?”

  My blood runs cold and rushes to my feet. For a moment, I can’t breathe or move or speak.

  Ava is naked in front of the bed, lying on her side with her arms around her head and her knees pulled up to her chest. She’s lying in an awkward, unnatural position, and her hair is a matted mess. Even in the candlelight, I can see the bruises forming on her hips and backside.

  “Ava…” I whisper her name with what little breath I can find, terrified that I will receive no response at all.

  Ava takes a sudden, audible breath and grabs for the robe lying next to her. She pulls it up against her body, covering her face with the edge of it as she rolls to her side again. I manage to inhale and force myself to move to her side. When she peers out from around her arm, I can see her blackened eye and red-marked face.

  “Ava, what the hell?” I reach out and touch her arm.

  “Get away from me!” she shrieks and tries to shove me away.

  “It’s just me.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist to keep her from hitting me and try to calm her down.

  She stops struggling and looks me in the eye for a moment before bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around my neck as I pick her up and place her gently on the bed. I look her over, determining that she doesn’t have any serious wounds, but she’s still badly hurt. It takes several minutes for her to calm down enough to speak.

  “What happened?” I try to reposition her robe to wrap her up in it as Ava tells me about the man from across the river—the one she told me about before—and what he’d done to her.

  “He was always rough,” she says softly, “but never like this before. He just started hitting me over and over again. He wouldn’t stop.”

  “Big guy?” I ask. “Dark hair, stupid moustache?”

  She nods.

  A small, hot knot forms in my stomach and then starts to move up. I can taste bile in the back of my throat, and my hands start to shake. All my muscles tense as I push myself off the bed.