“If you get a job, you’ll be working in places like this, you know,” she said, and he paused. How could she tell he was looking for work? “They won’t want someone who doesn’t look comfortable here. And youareuncomfortable, aren’t you?” It was worded like a question, but it sounded like a statement.
He didn’t respond. There were a thousand and one things in this den making him uncomfortable, and she now topped the list.
She handed him something—a piece of Tiggy’s Saltwater Taffy, the signature absinthe-flavored treat of New Reynes. “The bookie will have you as the underdog. See that I win back my bet.”
She was challenging him, but he wasn’t sure what for. She strode away and, to his surprise, collapsed into a chair at the table with the Torren suppliers, chewing on her taffy and twirling a dark curl around her finger. She paid him no more attention.
Of course, Jac saw the red flags. She had no reason to take an interest in him. This was some sort of trap, and even if it wasn’t, his heart was racing so fast that his mind was already thirsting for old, familiar ways to calm it. He scratched at the old abscess scar on his inner arm and took a long drag of his cigarette. Feeling trapped and anxious always set him off, and he’d been here barely fifteen minutes.
He considered leaving—was even making his way to the door—when he bumped into someone. The girl looked about his age, with unevenly cut short hair, light brown skin, and—to his surprise—Iron tattoos.
“Jac Mardlin?” she asked, crinkling her nose at the smell of his cigarette. “Pup said I’d find you here.” She looked around the place disapprovingly. “Not sure why.”
“Who are you?” Jac asked. His heart pounded with guilt. Had she noticed he was about to leave? Would she tell Levi?
“Tock Ridley. I’m the new Chez.” She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. “Tomorrow. Ten o’clock. The Catacombs. The other lords and seconds will be there.”
Jac’s eyes widened. He didn’t know Levi had been planning such a gathering, but of course the others had agreed to come. When Levi asked, the city answered.
“But what about the Torrens? What about the job?” Jac asked.
“I don’t know about the job, but this is just for tomorrow night. And you know how Levi is. He’ll want his second there. A proper show.” Jac couldn’t argue with that statement. “This is a sorry lot, isn’t it?” she commented, looking around the establishment.
“I’ve seen worse,” he muttered, and he had.
Tock gave him a look like she already knew that. No matter how many tattoos he inked, what color he dyed his hair, how he changed his clothes—it still lingered on him, a scar everyone could see, and that he always felt.
“Will you be there?” she asked him.
Jac’s breath hitched.Muck.He was already anxious from being in this den, confused about the girl, nervous about letting Levi down, and now he had to worry about tomorrow night on top of everything else.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he muttered. Because when Levi asked, Jac answered, too.
She slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said. Jac wasn’t sure how to take that. Tock looked like the sort of girl who came with a warning label. Before he could respond, she nodded and headed back the way she’d come.
The Torrens tonight, the lords tomorrow.Jac tried to douse the nerves burning inside him. He couldn’t leave now, not when he knew he’d see Levi tomorrow. Levi was depending on him. Jac needed to bring good news.
Jac put his cigarette out in an ashtray and made toward the ring. He held his breath as he walked, trying to focus on the sweat, the whistles, the cheers. He had a routine before his fights.
It started with a song.
I sold it all but my pride when I came to this town.
The song wasn’t about him. It was about legends and glory and ambition, but sometimes, when Jac’s stomach churned with anticipation and the room around him thundered with shouts, he could convince himself otherwise.
Bought my ticket at a crossroads for the long way down.
Someone slapped him hard on the back. Jac turned and stared into the yellow-toothed smile of a Torren supplier. The man removed his jacket and placed it on the referee’s table. He would be Jac’s opponent.
Jac hesitated—he hadn’t been expecting to fight someone he’d hoped would hire him. But maybe this wasn’t bad luck. Maybe it was an opportunity.
Jac stripped down to his undershirt, laying his orbs, his pistol, and his belongings with the man’s. He examined the tape around his knuckles. “You fight much?” he asked.
“I’m in the mood.” The man turned over his shoulder and waved at the girl from earlier, who shot him back a winning smile. Jac’s eyebrows furrowed. What sort of game was she playing? Hadn’t she bet on him? “You look like a fighter, though.”
“I’m out of work,” Jac responded smoothly. “Need some voltage.”
“There’s always work here if you’re willing to look.” The man offered him a grin.
