And the girl? She’s something else.
Stalking into the middle of the No-mans-land like she owns the concrete. Medium height and a fragile frame, with a waterfall of tangled pale blonde hair. She doesn’t look to her left or right, just comes to a halt dead center, head held high.
“Look at the balls on her,” Clay mutters. “Can’t see that arrogance lasting long.”
It won’t.
The pretty ones usually choose the Canary life, but she’s wearing red, and obviously Elite.
Superiority oozes from her pores. We hardlyeverget her kind down here. Well, she’ll find out soon enough exactly how much her previous status is worth in this shithole.
I look across the space to meet eyes with Dimitry, King of The Guild. Perched next to him is his girl, Odessa.She’s a nasty littlething, black hair cut like an emo-Cleopatra and a temperament that matches—shrewd and blood-thirsty.
I flap my hand at Dimitry. No challenge.
The Diggers don’t take witches. Even if we did, a piece of temptation like her would start a civil war on my block before lights out. I don’t need the headache.
Dimitry sends his number two, Gleb, down the bleachers and into the red zone.
I’m interested in how this will play out. So is everyone else.
The yard goes silent.
“Hello, little fishes.” Gleb’s voice echoes around the concrete walls. “Welcome to hell. Now here are the rules.” He moves toward the boy first. “You want into the Guild? Convince us. You got money? Power? Or are you just another No-man?” Gleb spreads his arms wide. “And take a look at the no-men. They live in this strip of no-mans land. They have no rights and no protections.”
He beckons to a small kid in red who’s looking at his feet trying to not be noticed. “19, get over here.”
19 shuffles forward in his too-big red scrubs and slippered feet.
“Do you like being a no-man, 19?” Gleb asks, projecting his voice.
The boy shakes his head.
“Did you fail to impress us?”
The kid nods, looking fucking miserable.
Gleb pushes him away then kicks 19 in the stomach, a standard performance to illustrate the fate of the no-men.
Gleb turns, and clamps a hand on the new kid’s shoulder. “So, you first,” he says. “What do you bring to the Guild’s table?”
The boy wipes sweat from his lip, eyes darting around for help that will not come. I see him wince as Gleb squeezes tighter. “Speak! My patience is wearing thin.”
“OK, OK, Um, well my name is Julian Walters, and um, my dad has a powerful position…”
“Go on.”
“He’s Deputy Registrar for the Havengard Licensing Bureau,” the boy splutters out.
Gleb sneers. “A Deputy? You’re offering us a pencil-pusher, 28? Why should the Guild care about a man who couldn’t even keep his own son out of here?”
“He didn’t try to keep me out—he sent me here!” The kid’s voice raises. “Please, I’ll explain. There’s an election coming up. He needed to look ‘tough on crime’ for the votes. He sacrificed me.”
The muttering in the yard shifts. Everyone in Quo knows what it’s like to be the trash a family throws away.
“But he’s got secrets,” Julian rushes on, desperate now. “I’ve got proof he’s been taking backhanders to pass permits. He’ll do whatever I say to keep his secret. And if I become a Guild member, then he’ll have to do whateveryousay too.”
Gleb looks up at Dimitry.
