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“The second one,” Urgoth explained. “And you both report to me, so that’s on my hands.”
“Ohhh shit the fucking bed!”
Urgoth shook his head. It was about as expressive as I’d ever seen him so far. Most of the time, he could have been made from wood, he was so unemotional. “Don’t look so shocked. We’re not in a cutesy nice little world of dancing elves. But you’ve never lived in one, so I don’t know why you’re so bothered.”
Holy shit. This guy killed people for a living. I had always kept my distance from people like that. They were dirty. Tainted, somehow. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, let alone sharing a flat with him.
His scent was something else, though. Even knowing what he did for a living, I didn’t want him to go away. I’d never had such a strongly mixed reaction for one person before—total attraction and complete repulsion at the same time.
I took a brief look at his face. Dark, coal eyes. Thick brows, one scarred. And he was enormous. Barely fitted into the vehicle, even hunched over like he was. I wondered how tall he’d be if he stood up properly.
The vehicle stopped and I got out, with Ryon. He unfolded and I was shocked. I’d never seen anyone so big, before. He had to be at least seven feet. Maybe eight. I didn’t know.
“Any taller and you’d need spikes on your head to keep the pigeons away,” I muttered.
He ignored me. He still hadn’t said a single word to me. I wondered if he was deaf.
He led the way to the flat, while I just followed. The red street lights bathed everything in an eerily hellish glow. I felt like I was walking calmly to a place of no return.
The high-rise buildings were made of metal, but it had rusted and warped. Windows were broken. The pavement was cracked. Litter was strewn everywhere, and homeless people peered out from behind old boxes or broken, abandoned furniture.
I was on another planet, and everything here was alien, but so familiar, too. Poverty looked the same everywhere, apparently.
As we walked further, a different type of street-dweller became more common. Barely-dressed women with hollow, dead eyes, stood by the road trying to catch the attention of the cars. Holes to fuck. I’d been lucky that my lock picking skills had ensured I’d avoided that fate. I was more use to dealers as a breaker for robberies. It hadn’t stopped them taking advantage, and I hated the thought of every time that had happened, but at least they had never shoved me out into the night like this to earn my keep.
Ryon stopped at a nondescript metal apartment block. Rusty chunks flaked off the walls. He entered a code and the door opened. Inside, it was pitch black.
“Lights?” I said, hanging back.
“Broken.” His voice was deep and gruff. He walked into the darkness. I followed, afraid. I’d always hated the dark. Ever since I was a kid. My mum’s feller would come into my room at night. I didn’t want to think about that. Darkness made me vulnerable. It scared me. And I hated being scared, so I usually got nippy, instead.
This bloke was a killer, though. I didn’t trust him at all. Instead of voicing my fears, I just followed him up flight after flight of metal steps with criss-cross holes cut into them to let water drain through.
I’d expected an alien world to be better than my own.
“What a clatty fuckin’ shithole,” I mumbled to myself as I stepped over a steaming pile of something that smelled suspiciously brown.
He walked down a dingy corridor on the fourth floor and unlocked a door. Flicked the light switch. Nothing happened.
“Did you forget to top up the meter or something?” I asked.
“It’s a power cut.” He clicked on something that looked like a flashlight and the room was thrown into dim shadows, while he moved the main beam around. Checking for something. He moved forward cautiously.
I knew better than to speak when someone was behaving like this. Best case scenario, he was a bit paranoid. Worst case, someone else was in the room waiting to attack us.
“Stay here.” He thrust the torch at me. Surprised, I took it.
He pulled a weapon out and crept toward some furniture. I think it was a cabinet. When he was close to it, someone jumped out from behind what I guessed was a couch, surprising him from behind. They hooked something over his head and tried to garotte him with it. At least a head and shoulders taller, he fought back, easily overpowering his attacker. A blast of light came from the muzzle of the weapon and the intruder fell with a thud.
“I didn’t want to spend my evening disposing of a corpse,” he grumbled, putting his weapon back in his pocket. I stepped closer and stared at the body.
“There’s no bullet hole. What did you shoot him with?”
“A disruptor. It sends a beam of energy into the body, disrupting its natural organ function. If you aim it correctly, you can defibrillate the heart, cause brain death, or just make the victim piss themselves for life.”
That sounded grim. And yet, there was no evidence from the outside to suggest how this man had died.
“I’m going to chuck him in the sea. Make yourself at home. There’s lantana tea in the kitchen. And crabbie.”
