"You are a succubus," Kit stated, understanding his strange draw to her. But he was disinclined; everything was muted. The feelings she evoked were nothing compared to the thrill of the hunt for his true prey.
The succubus tapped a finger on the counter without breaking away from his eyes to draw the bartender’s attention. A man with silver spikes jutting from above his pierced brow slid a smoking glass down the slick bartop.
She pressed her finger to the glass and slid it further to Kit. "For you." She nodded to the empty stool at her side.
He didn’t take either.
"What did you mean,learn fast or hide?" Kit spoke slowly, tasting the words on his tongue and the heady scent in the smoky air of the bar.
The succubus rested her chin on her hand. "You’re not from around here. It’s obvious. The Rogues are the least of your worries in Lunar City. You stick out like a sore thumb." She waved a hand to a table, where her companion with the deep brown hair threw down a stack of cards, a cigar dangling from his lips. "Ifhecan pick up on it, you’re sure as shit in a hell of a lot of trouble."
"How do you know?"
"Let’s just say like draws to like. I’m not exactly from around here either. Business brought me here, you could say. The Earthen government is no fucking joke. One misstep"—she cut her hand over her throat—"and say bye-bye freedom."
Kit’s stomach clenched as he stared at the bartender, who slid a basket of greasy fries and red, thick ketchup down the bar. He licked his lips. "What do I do?"
The succubus laughed. "You’re asking me?" She followed his stare to the food, then waved her hand to the bartender, flicking her eyes to the basket of fries. "First, you should go do something about… all of that." She gestured to Kit’s entire form.
A steaming basket of thick fries was placed on the bartop before him. She reached for one, pushing the basket to Kit. Slowly, he took one with his right hand, feeling nothing through his gloves as he brought the fry to his mouth. The salty taste filled an ache he wasn’t aware he had.
"Your clothes," she mumbled with a full mouth. "Go figure that out. Or else you’ll find yourself in pieces—and sold. Or worse, the fighting rings. You’d do well in the Rogue fights, though."
Kit snarled as the succubus reached for his arm, where his fingers hovered over the basket. Her alluring magic pulled at him.
"Do not try to lure me, succubus. I will rip you apart," Kit said.
Without another word, he grabbed the basket of fries and left, ignoring the bartender’s calls. "Hey, asshole! Leave the basket!"
Clothes. Kit needed clothes.
The attendant turnedover the sign toClosedand stepped outside, locking the door behind her. She was an old woman with weathered skin and hunched shoulders. Kit wasn’t fooled by her appearance.
He was proven right when she pulled pepper spray and brass knuckles from her cardigan pocket and disappeared down the street.
Kit waited until she was gone and the streets fell quiet. As quiet as any street in Lunar City could be.
Rogues howled somewhere in the distance, and snow fell lazily, melting as it touched the cracked pavement.
Balconies with bloated railings hung over the narrow streets. The scent of burning meat and vegetables lingered in the air.
He moved to the laundromat door and drove the heel of his right hand through the glass. It shattered beneath his strength. He forced his shoulder through, shaking glass from his hair and letting it scatter across the cracked tile floor.
Rows of washing machines sat dark and silent.
Wooden benches lined the walls beneath a faded picture of a smiling woman wearing an apron and holding an iron. Laundry baskets overflowed with clothes. Kit tipped the nearest one anddropped into a crouch, rifling through the clothes with stiff, hurried movements.
Glass crunched.
Kit stood so quickly that the satiny blouse near his boots drifted away.
At the shattered glass doorway stood two men, dressed in black, masks covering their lower faces. A rifle was trained on him?—
Kit ducked as the suppressed shot buried itself in the wall behind him. Smoke bloomed from the woman’s head in the picture, a hole right between her eyes.
The second man raised his weapon, but the first stilled the shot with an upheld fist, his words muted by the mask, as he called, "Come with us. We don’t have orders to kill you. We will apprehend you by any means necessary."
It was quiet for a moment as they waited for his reply.
