If he thought I was foolish enough not to forage out some intel on him that I could use in return he wasn't nearly as cunning as I thought.
"What do you want, Musk?" I said.
"Nothing much. Nothing anyone else needs to know about. But I tell you this: I know all about that reward being offered for you and even if no one else wants to turn you in, I have no problem with it."
There was a nasty note in his voice and I knew he meant it. I'd long-lost sight of Dallas and his street rat but I suspected Dallas hadn't lost sight of me.
"You could," I said. "If you want me to pass on to Hunter what I know about you."
He rocked back on his heels and leaned against the bushel of pears.
"Whatever you know about me can be solved with one quick reward claim. Hunter wants you bad. I bet he'd forgive me just about anything."
So he hadn't yet turned over all of his information about me to Hunter.
He was trying to amplify his get by blackmailing me. Whatever he wanted from this job, it either had to be big or he wanted me out of town so Hunter wouldn't know he was priming me all along.
I picked up one of the pears. It had a bruise on one side while the other looked perfectly pristine. It reminded me a lot of Hunter. There was something rotten in his character that he tried to cover up with the cleanliness of justice.
"So what do you say?" Colton said. "You going to take my job or what?"
Someone else answered for me, a feminine voice
"She'll take the or what," it said.
I might almost expect it to be Sadie, but the tone was too high-pitched. I looked askance to see Myste lurking just behind Colton. How long had she been there? Had she heard everything?
Colton spun around to face her, his face twisted in disdain.
"Mind your business," he said.
"This town is my business," she said.
She made a small motion with her hand to indicate several of the townsfolk were also standing huddled around. Every set of eyes was on me, faces set with determination, and something else that confused me.
Good Lord, had they all heard everything?
For a faltering heartbeat, I stared into their faces. I waited for one of them to pull out that ransom poster.
It was obvious when no one did so that if they knew of the poster, they had already made a decision not to do anything about it. I wasn't sure if it was fear of Hunter or sheer belligerence for his brand of law, but I knew in that moment that none of them planned to turn me in.
"I suggest you scuttle back to your rathole," Myste said.
The mayor took one look at the crowd that had started to gather and shouldered his way through it. I could have handled it myself, but there was something incredibly satisfying about seeing someone else taking a stand for a change.
I started to thank Myste, but with a quick glance over her shoulder, she followed Colton through the small crowd and strode across the street.
Everyone else turned away from me as though they hadn't seen me at all. No one spoke to me. But one woman, the widow I'd given a bushel of apples to sent me a secretive smile before she turned away.
It was shock to see so many of the townspeople standing up for me. It was gratifying and it made the suspicious part of my nature pull a blanket of shame up over itself.
At least for the moment it took to see Hunter striding toward me.
-7-
I wasn't sure he'd seen me yet, but a raft of memories swept through me in those seconds I saw him striding forward, bare-headed and beef-handed. The fabled Blood Blade held to his grasp like it was clinging to him and not the other way around, and I immediately thought back to that hatchet he'd used to carry and the last time I worked with him.
We knew we sought a regular every day thief, and not a killer, but crime was crime to Hunter, and so I did what any of his judges did when asked. My job.
It was my task—given by him—to find the thief who kept pilfering from a merchant's apple barrel. Not a lot, but enough to make the poor merchant worry about his ailing wife at home and how he would find the barter for her medicine from the apothecary.
I spent days watching the merchant's stand. He set out bushels of fruit from his orchard. Bushels that he'd picked from ancient trees that strained to flower and go to seed with so few insects to pollinate. Day after day, he hoisted those bushel baskets from his wagon and set them out in the hopes of catching another barter's eye.
Indeed, time after time, he collected any number of barter items as I watched: a few coins, a leather apron best suited for a blacksmith, a couple of tankards of ale.
But one boy who lingered about, watched those barters with a keen eye and he finally slid over when everyone was busy haggling. The merchant didn't want a smithy's apron, but he thought he might be able to barter that for something else, and so on. My eyes were on the boy. He couldn't have been more than eight years old. Starving, obviously. I knew the gaunt look to his cheeks and the hollow black circles beneath his eyes. The kind of scrawniness he owned could only be caused by starvation.
I expected to see him grab an apple. I almost mentally begged him to. But when he grabbed an entire small basket and ran with it, I was surprised enough that I didn't bolt after him straight away.
What I didn't expect was Hunter's reaction. He'd been watching me watch the boy, evidently. And when I failed to sprint after the kid, instead admiring his moxy, Hunter shot me a glare and sprinted off behind him.
I gave chase to them both, rather belatedly, and thought the whole time I ran that while the boy's pace was dogged but exhausted, Hunter's was predatory. That should have been my true understanding of exactly what Hunter's motive was. As adults, we were quick and long-strided, but the boy, though he labored under every step, made up in agility and cunningness what he lacked in speed. He outpaced us for some time.
He ran into shops, out of shops and through tight spaces. He never once looked behind but I knew he knew he was being chased. He knew he couldn't risk capture by the Head Justice.
But Hunter did catch him.
And everything went to Hell in a apple basket when he did.
Right then and there, Hunter yanked out his hatchet he carried on his hip and spread the boy's wrist over a makeshift chopping block served up by a butcher who happened to have a stall nearby.
The boy cried. He blabbered about stealing it for his sick mother. They were starving. He didn't want her to die and leave him alone and afraid when he was already afraid.
All of that ran through my mind as I watched Hunter angling toward me in New Denver.
It was a point of shame for me now that the moment Hunter raised his hatchet was not the one that made me decide to leave him.
I'd knocked him down, sure. Argued with him that the boy was starving. There needed to be compassion with justice.
Hunter laughed. Laughed.
"That's the point, Skye," he'd said. "Judges have to be strong. They can't have soft hearts for the young and weak. One day it's an apple they steal; another it's a man's last breath. The law needs to be upheld."
Then I knew. He'd set me up. He wanted to see how I reacted.
I recalled digging into my pocket, searching for a few coins to barter for the boy. I was still searching for those coins when Hunter took the boy's hand and the apple rolled across the street.
And when the boy's mother died days later, I left the Ruby Skulls.
With Hunter advancing on me now, that wanted poster clutched in his fist, I knew he wanted me, not just to pay for stealing that hatchet of his and burying it in a vat of acid, but because I'd done the worst thing I could have.
I'd left him and abandoned the law. I'd broken that blood oath that bound me to his organization, and I warranted death.
I took a deep breath. The time had come, I supposed, to make my stand. I couldn't run forever. I planted my feet, heels digging in to the dirt. The last dregs of sunlight caught the edge of something and blinded me.
Someone s
hoved me. Hard.
I fell sideways, catching myself at the last moment and staggering to my find my balance.
"Get out of here, Skye," Sadie said. Then she placed her palm against my back again and gave me a shove as she strode into the street toward Hunter. "I've been itching to cause that bastard some trouble since he put my old nag down."
I shook my head. "You don't know him like I do, Sadie."
"The Hell I don't."
She stepped in front of me, blocking me from Hunter's view. I didn't need to peer around her shoulder to know he didn't care who was in the way.
"Sadie—"
She reached behind to wave me away as she spoke through the corner of her mouth.
"You got about ten minutes before the sun falls dark. Use it."
I tried to push my way back around her.
"I said leave," she said, more insistent now. "He has no way of knowing it's you...that hat..."
The hat. I'd forgotten all about it.
"He'll think I'm one of your ponies," I said.
"Not just a pony. Sam. It's her hat. If he catches a good glimpse of it and recognizes it as hers, he won't stop to ask questions. And if he sees your face, he'll know soon enough," she said. "That's if he waits long enough to see it. If you don't get out of here, his Ruby Skulls will sight you with their crossbows as soon as they get a good aim."
"What?" I said. "Why would they want to hurt Sam?"
"Pulled a gun on one of his judges."
Sam was a red-headed snarling mass of curls and temper at the best of times. Pregnant, and saturated with hormones, I imagined she was far more ornery. If she pulled a gun on a Ruby Skull—
"You," Sadie hollered at Hunter before I could finish the thought.
"I've got a beef with you and your judges," she said.
I clutched her sleeve and she shook me off.
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
"You really need to get out of here, Skye. Bad enough he might think I'm protecting my wife. If he knows it's you, I doubt there'll be any sympathy."
No. There wouldn't. And I knew that better than anyone.
Hunter's voice came crisp and clear over the air, indicating he'd closed a good bit of distance already.
"Listen, Sadie," he said. "I know you've been waiting a while to have a kid, but we both know the law. Your wife threatened a man of justice. We can't have that. If the justices aren't safe in this nation, where would the rest of society be? We need law. We need order."
He was doing that thing again, that thing he did that held his quarry mesmerized while he advanced. Reason with them. Intimate some sort of closeness and friendly banter. Lull them into thinking they were safe, that no harm would come.
"Skye," Sadie said in warning. "I got this."
I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't just walk away. Couldn't just leave Sadie here.
"She's fine," came a voice.
I swung my gaze sideways. Myste stood there just out of reach, the metal studs on her collar catching the last of the sunlight and casting bright orange rays when she moved toward me. She looked like she was on a casual stroll, taking in the evening light and not aiming words at me like a missile.
"She hasn't done anything wrong," Myste said as she approached. "She'll be fine. But if he thinks she's hiding you, he'll see that as a crime."
Of course he would. I should know that better than anyone. He called it aiding and abetting.
I hated retreating and running like a mouse to my hole, but there was no choice for it. I wasn't equipped to face Hunter right then.
I scurried away, leaving Sadie behind as I hit the back streets telling myself. Sadie was more than just a survivor. She was one of those rare strong women who knew exactly how to hold her own. She would dance right up to the line of Hunter's sand-covered boundary of regulations but she wouldn't go over it.
I sidled up next to Myste who kept walking on past me toward one of the side streets as though she hadn't said a word. I used her as cover while I scooted around the corner and then I went into a flat run, heading towards the hogbacks where my horse Gentry would have to put up with a quick saddling. I wasn't even sure I could wait for the katanas anymore.
I was on a tear, passing more dilapidated soddies and barns as I ran out of town and into the path that led to the hogbacks. I was paying attention to where I was headed and nothing more when someone jumped in front of me.
I slammed into a broad chest and nearly fell backwards. I only caught myself by throwing out my hands.
Large brown ones gripped them and tugged.
Dallas.
"Sweet Jesus, I'm glad to see you," I said.
He grinned broadly.
"If you believe in that sort of thing," he said.
"Hunter's here," I said without hesitation. "You're about as safe as I am right now."
"Safer," he said. "Right about now, he's chasing a street urchin who stole Sadie's vest right off her back."
I reeled backwards. "Not smart," I said.
"Why? He'll never catch Absalom. He's too quick. Too cunning."
I thought of the boy with the apple bushel and my lips pressed together so tight my teeth hurt.
"Don't be too sure."
He shrugged. "You wanted me?"
I looked up and down the path to the hogbacks, making sure no one was out on their steps or in their barns. When I saw we were alone, I tugged him over to a large stone that rested between two great oaks.
"I've never said anything, but I know you watch me," I said.
He slung one leg over the rock and settled down without admitting a single thing. I wasn't sure what I expected, embarrassment, maybe? His silence was enough to drive me run my mouth.
"Like in the bazaar for example. You sent one of your rats to pickpocket me. You've kept an eye out on me since I got here."
"You're an easy mark," he said.
"So you've kept tabs on me? Helped me out a few times."
He shrugged. "A few times more than you've noticed," he said.
There might be better times to ask what I really wanted to know but I needed to hear his answer now. I needed to know what his motivation was before I went any further.
"Why is that? Why do you watch out for me?"
He eyed me. "Because of the way you treat people."
"That's it?" I said. "You like that I'm antisocial?"
"I understand mistrust," he said. "But that's not what I meant. I can see you've had some nasty business in your past. You're not a freshly sprouted daisy by any stretch. But you don't let that interfere with doing the right thing for people. You let them keep their dignity. Like we're capable of being decent human beings. You'd make a good judge."
I snorted. "Been there," I said.
"Not a Ruby Skull. A judge. A real one."
"No chance of that," I said.
"Why do you want to know," he said. "Why now? When you've said nothing in all the times I've met you?"
I pulled in a draft of air and looked up and down the path before committing to the answer.
"I need some information on a sorcerer."
"Easy," he said. "There are none hereabouts. At least none who would show themselves."
I shook my head. "Not a muster. I'm talking full fledged magic man."
He canted his head at me and his dreadlocks fell forward.
"Same deal. No one would take the chance of being exploited or manipulated or worse."
I understood. It was risky to come out as having power of any sort if you had any loved ones alive or needed succor. Unless the power came with immortality and invisibility, it wasn't a foolproof means to safety. Not in this world.
"There is one. There may be two. Hunter has a spelled blade. And rumor has it there's a sorcerer in the vicinity. I need to know if they are one and the same."
He shook his head. "I'd have heard about it."
"I'm not so sure about that," said a voice from behind the oaks.
Both Dallas and I bolted from the
stone. Dallas pulled his machete from its scabbard and stepped in front of me. I pushed him aside, insulted that he thought I needed protection. It was true I might not have a blade with me, but I could manage fairly well with my fists.
But the man didn't have a weapon that I could see. In fact, the only thing I took note of was the long white strings hanging from beneath his cap and looped into his shirt pocket.
"You," I said at the stranger who stepped out from around the trees.
"You know this guy?" Dallas said, stepping up to take his place beside me.
"You're supposed to be dead," I said, feeling betrayed. "And be a whole lot heavier."
He pulled the strings from his ears and music wafted toward me. The same voice as before, but different music.
"Again," said Dallas. "You know him?"
"He was at the library. Playing possum, apparently."
"Not possum," the man said. "It's more of a tic. I get scared and I kind of die a little."
"And you bloat and stink a lot, apparently."
I wasn't believing a word of it.
He shrugged. "It's not the least bit pleasant for me either. I have to change clothes a fair bit."
Dallas waggled his machete in the man's general direction.
"How much did you hear?"
The man put his hands up in the air. "Everything?"
He tried to smile naively.
I stormed toward him.
"What were you doing in Old Denver"
He sighed. "Are you going to interrogate me the way a justice would, Skye Shade? Or are you going to let me at least sit down."
He rubbed at his hip. "Being dead for a few hours does a number on the joints."
He didn't seem the least bit afraid of Dallas or me for that matter, but how he knew my name made me suspicious.
"Who are you?"
"I thought you were looking for me."
"You're the one who spelled Hunter's blade?"
"Oh no." He looked offended. "I'm Marlin."
-8-
Marlin was no longer a fat man with filthy clothes. He was lean and square and he wore a T-shirt with a big red maple leaf across the front. There was a gaping hole in the shoulder where moths had got to it I immediately thought of the mega mall and all that rotting clothing hanging from racks.
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