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PROLOGUE
16 YEARS AGO…
Running as fast as my little legs can, I duck and weave, stumbling over some discarded rubbish along the side streets. If he catches me, it will be bad. I’ve seen what he does to other girls like me, the ones without families to protect them. I’m all alone, living like the rats that chew on my toes at night. No, I have to keep running. I was stupid, so stupid. I know better than to fall asleep like that, but I was so tired and hungry. I shake my head, feeling my tears flow in the wind with my short, ragged hair.
My blood pumps as a river of tears stream down my face. My scalp still aches from him grabbing my hair, and a handprint now decorates my sore face. Wiping my snot, I right myself and continue running.
I’m fast, even for my age. I’ve always been told that, and quiet too. I can hear him yelling as he tries to find me, but I duck and manoeuvre through tiny spaces, where he can’t see me. I’m in the discarded sections of the slums, but he’s out there, so I move farther in. I slip through the stilts under some of the shacks and sprint through waterlogged, forgotten alleys. Utter terror constricts my lungs, so I can barely breathe.
When I run face first into the wall and fall to the ground, I finally realise where I am—right before the barrier.
My eyes dart around. I can hear him still looking for me, but my mother’s words ring through my head.
“Don’t go near the wall, baby. Stay away, the monsters will eat you.”
I stand on wobbly legs and take a step back, but I hear him drawing closer. That’s when I see the small missing section in the brickwork. It appears as if it has collapsed and no one noticed. It’s probably large enough to fit a full-grown, skinny woman, but not big enough for him. I know what my mother warned, but it’s my only choice, so I scramble through the opening, under the wall, and out into the abandoned city.
The sun sets in the sky, and I hear the distant calls of the monsters that inhabit the derelict metropolis.
With my arms wrapped around myself, I press closer to the wall, stifling my cries as I look around, unsure what to do or where to go. Suddenly, a hard, warm hand clutches my shoulder, making me scream and whirl around.
In the shadows of the wall, two bright orange eyes stare back at me.
It’s the last thing I remember before I pass out.
ONE
ARIA
As I hurry through the overcrowded streets of the slums, I duck my head, allowing the tattered grey hood of my cloak to cover my face. Everyone knows me, but that doesn’t mean some drunken idiot wouldn’t take the chance. I can never be too careful—I know that better than anyone, especially in my line of work. Blending in, being silent, stealthy, and unseen, is what I do.
I become invisible as I move through the crowd, slipping my hand into my pockets before I swipe something. I don’t do that anymore. Lowly pickpocketing and thieving are what I succumbed to as a young girl to survive. Now, however, I have much bigger paydays than a few coins or trinkets.
Speaking of, my current payday burns a hole in my pocket. It was a strange, requested item for sure, but I’m not complaining. Grime is a collector of all things past and ancient, and he pays a pretty penny for them too. I sometimes pick them up on my travels, or like today, I find the item he needs for a good finder’s fee. After all, my job isn’t easy. No, it’s dangerous. My gaze turns to the scarred, grey wall that intersects the city, which is where the slums are, providing a home for those too poor and desperate to escape. Beyond that is forgotten history. A city left to rot.
It’s empty, barthem.
The monsters.
The very creatures that, thirty years ago, threw our rapidly increasing and overpopulated world into chaos. For years, a war raged through these streets until they realised it couldn’t be won. No, the monsters were too strong, too smart, and too fast. Instead, a wall was built to keep them locked within city limits, and they were left to starve and die.
Only they never did.
Every once in a while, they send groups to check on the status of the monsters, but no one ever comes back. I am the only person who goes over that wall and lives to tell the tale. Well, not over it, but that’s a secret no one will ever know. I won’t tell a soul, both to protect the people from what lies beyond and to protect the only source of income that stops me from ending up in a pleasure house. I’ve seen so many girls like me, orphaned and scared, end up there. When I see them now, they have dead eyes and bare skin. I can always tell who they are, even in normal clothes. They have this look about them—forlorn and lifeless. The things men and women pay to do to them…well, it would horrify anyone. No one comes to the poorest, most dangerous section of the pleasure houses for a normal romp in the sack. They come for stuff that is illegal or would terrify their normal establishments.
Dragging my eyes from the wall, I lower my head just as the rain begins to fall and night starts to set in. That’s when the noises begin, and howls, grunts, and shouts rise above the wall. After living here long enough, I’ve gotten used to them, but as a child, they terrified me. I would turn my big eyes to the wall and ask if we were safe, if they were going to eat us. People would laugh at me, but I could see the worry in their eyes. No one really knows if the wall will hold. It has so far, but who knows what the future will bring?
All I know is I don’t fear the wall or the city anymore.
Now, that place is quiet, familiar, and almost peaceful to me. It’s here, with others, where my terror sets in. After all, it’s the humans who made me an orphan, starved me, beat me, abused me, and tossed me away like trash. My hand lifts to the small scar intersecting my top lip. It’s a reminder of everything I have lost and everything I did to survive.
No, it’s not the monsters beyond the wall I fear—it’s the ones I live alongside.
Up ahead, a building on stilts, high above trailers and shacks, boasts of trinkets, collections, and a willingness to buy and sell anything in neon letters—Grime’s shop. He also sells weapons, and I would bet he would even sell people. I shiver at the thought. He’s one to watch out for, but I can’t protest when his money provides food for my stomach after days of gnawing starvation. My stomach growls at the thought, but I’m used to it, so I ignore the empty pit inside me and push forward. I just tend to hand him his object, get my money, and then scurry home so I can eat and sleep for a few days to recover from the trip. A yawn splits my face as I think about the lumpy mattress in my one-room house. Despite its condition, it’s better than the streets and being someone’s plaything.
I hurry inside the shop, ignoring the customers as I head behind the tattered, yellow curtain into the backroom, where Grime counts notes on a glass table. A cigar is perched between his wide lips, and his eyes are narrowed on an old TV mounted in the corner, the picture going out every few seconds.
“Fucking signal is getting worse the more they build,” he mutters and looks at me, jumping when he sees me standing there. “Girl, make a fucking noise next time!” he hollers.
