That is, on an average day when I haven’t left him behind on the city walls because I’m too fucking impatient to care about the risks.
Oxel eyes my bow, then spits in the dirt. “Bitch.”
“Call me that again and find out how good my aim is, roach.” I keep my voice measured, making it clear I’m in control of myself—he can’t get me to lose my temper or drop my guard. Maybe that’ll be enough to keep this from turning into a physical fight. I know I can defend myself, but that doesn’t stop me praying Oxel doesn’t take another step closer. I’ll do what it takes to survive, but that doesn’t mean I want to. Not again.
He clearly decides whatever’s in my satchel isn’t worth challenging me over, because after a few tense seconds he shrugs and shuffles away. Not for the first time, I’m glad no one except Hodges knows my real name here. To my fellow scavengers I’m Rose Radley—an alias I shed along with my weapons once I’m back inside the city walls.
I return to scanning the churned ground ahead for spots where the earth looks most disturbed. I’ve always had good instincts and sharp eyes, and I let them guide me now. I ignore the pools of demon blood—the other scavengers are welcome to those—but use the jar in my satchel to scoop up a particularly dense patch of black mist, a remnant of demon shadow magic that lingers on the plains after battles. I’m careful not to touch it, my gloved fingers sealing the lid tightly.
The plains are getting more crowded now. The shouts of groups working together echo through the smoke. I wave to a father and daughter I know who always scavenge together, but keep my distance. Hodges is probably somewhere out there, but the battlefield is big, and trying to track each other down would just waste time. He can handle himself. Plus, we already agreed to meet back at the market.
I move faster, anticipation making my insides squirm. My instinct tells me there’s a bigger prize still out here, and I need to find it before anyone else gets their grubby paws on it. My gaze catches on a flash of white. Perhaps another feather, or a piece of bone from some previous battle? Then I glance beyond it and see a curve where the earth falls away into a deep crater.
A body. It has to be—it’s the only thing that makes that kind of impact. I rush over to the edge, and my heart starts racing when I spy the pale corpse lying at the bottom.
The hole is maybe four yards wide and marked with the coursing lines of an ephilium lightning strike, snaking outward from the body like a network of blackened roots. The demon looks female, I guess, her skin white as bone, with a flat, upturned nose that makes me think of a bat, matching the leathery wings shredded at her sides. Her eyes are closed, and her coal-black lips, smeared green with her blood, are parted to display rows of sharp teeth. But her features don’t really interest me. Demon teeth and leather sometimes pay, but it’s a niche market, reserved for the truly shady dealers who aren’t afraid of damning their souls to Infernum.
No, what I want is the battle axe clutched in the demon’s clawed fingers. I stare at the glinting edge of the blade and the fine detailing on the handle complete with sets of runes. The thing reeks of power. Even the Paxresidents with superstitions about demons might be willing to overlook their qualms to possess such magic.
I could probably get fifty, maybe even seventy strats for it. About three months’ wages, and nearly a quarter what it costs for one counterfeit guild license. Then maybe by the end of this year, Evie and I could leave home for good.
I glance behind me, but the nearest scavenger is still a way off—an older woman named Fia who I sometimes swap pleasantries with. Not today. No one but me has seen the body yet. I try to move quickly without attracting the rest of them like flies to shit, lowering myself into the crater and crawling over to the body. I suppress a shudder as I reach out toward the demon’s rigid fingers. Even after three years, I’m still not used to being this close to death. But as I try to tug the axe loose, I find it’s still locked in her grip. In the end, I have to peel the long, skeletal fingers back one by one, until I can lift the axe free.
The demon’s eyes fly open, and a screech of agony rakes across my eardrums.
I jump backward, falling on my ass, but manage to keep hold of the axe. The demon—the only mostly dead demon—arches her back up from the earth, her dark-red eyes turning to me as she screams words I can’t understand in the demon tongue.
Holy aether, she has a lot of teeth. I throw myself toward the edge of the crater, tossing the axe over it and seizing the lip to scramble up, but an iron grip catches my ankle, claws digging into my flesh as the demon pulls me back toward her.
I hear footsteps above us.
“Help!” I scream and look up to see Oxel staring down at me, eyes wide. I shout his name, at the same time frantically trying to kick myself free from the raving demon as I shove my hand into my satchel.
Oxel’s eyes fall on the axe I left on the lip of the crater.
“Don’t you dare!” I shout, already reading the decision on his ugly face.
“Sorry, Radley,” he says with a shrug. “But if you want to play the game, youhave to pay the price. You know that.” He bends, snatching up the axe before turning away and disappearing from view.
That bastard. I hope a demon chews his face off.
Mind you, I seem to be in line for that fateright now. I grunt as my hand closes around the knife I keep in my satchel, pulling it out before I’m dragged into biting distance of the demon’s fangs. She’s terrifyingly strong, but the blood is actively dripping from her mouth now, slurring whatever Cyrax words she’s muttering. She’s definitely dying; I’m just pretty sure she’s trying to take me with her.
I twist my arm over and stab out at the first thing I can reach, slashing at her forearm. For just a second, her grip loosens, her eyes going glassy with pain. I seize the opportunity, pulling my leg back and then kicking down hard. Her fingers release me as her shout turns into a gargling cough.
Heart in my mouth, I haul myself up and out of the crater. Only then do I throw a glance backward. She’s not following me. Instead, the demon is lying twitching at the base of the crater, chest heaving. She’s suffocating on her own blood.
I stare around me, quickly identifying the retreating figure of Oxel, the axe in his hand. Without pausing, I stow my knife back in my satchel and pull my bow from my back, nocking an arrow and setting my sights on the skinny scavenger.
I could shoot him now squarely in the back, or the base of his neck. He’d be dead in an instant.
Why not? He leftmefor dead, and I know he’d do it again. He’s a danger to every scavenger who crosses his path.
I tighten the string of my bow, drawing it back toward my cheek, but something makes me glance down at the demon again. She’s still now, eyes open but lifeless. I pause on the deep crimson of her irises, and a sound echoes in my ears, conjured up from a memory: a scream—my own, and a pool of rapidly spreading blood—someone else’s. Bile rises in my throat. I fight to swallow it back down.
Then I look back up toward Oxel and release my arrow.
It strikes the scavenger in the shoulder, far away from any vital organs. Still, he stumbles, dropping the axe and falling to his knees. He’s groaning and clutching his shoulder when I sprint up behind him.
