No way would I be given grace again, but I had to try—after I grabbed a shirt, of course. And healed the worst of my injuries.
An hour later, I was jogging toward Smithfield Press where I’d managed to hold down a job for six solid months. A record for me. I had depleted my small well of healing magic, focusing a steady stream on my broken rib—now mended but still aching—and my left eye. Call me vain but a black swollen eye socket was gross to look at.
The stitched scratches on my chest had been free of infection—the Enforcer’s rudimentary administrations might have had something to do with that. All in all, I didn’t look too bad considering how close to death I’d been twelve hours ago.
Behind me, the pattering of little feet distracted my train of thought. I knew who they belonged to without turning around. “Get lost, kid.” I jumped over a broken crate discarded on the sidewalk.
He continued to pursue me like a lost puppy. “You’re late for work. Where were you last night? I could hear Callie meowing all morning, dude. You forgot to feed her again.”
“I’m serious, Benji, get out of here. I’m not in the mood for your questions. Catch.” I tossed him the orange I’d snatched earlier, knowing he needed the sustenance more than I did. Curly blond hair fell over his eyes as he whooped and hollered, like I’d gifted him a toy from his Christmas list.
Normally, Fae were strict vegetarians. We didn’t consume animal meat like a ravenous pack of wolves—that was the shifter’s thing. Our options were limited, especially since we weren’t allowed to shop in their stores. Fruit was a rare commodity in our territory, which made our lifestyle that much more of a challenge.
For the next several blocks, I ignored Benji and his firecracker mouth. He finally grew bored and skipped off, leaving me to my thoughts. With his mom always taking ill, he was practically an orphan. I had snuck into their shoddy apartment across from mine on more than one occasion and tried to heal her. But her sickness was beyond my abilities. If she didn’t get well soon, Benji would be out on the streets to fend for himself. Or worse, taken to the Fae orphanage.
A shudder rippled through me. When I’d come of age five years ago, I freed myself of those walls, but I still had nightmares. Although the kid was a pest at times, I didn’t want that life for him. And I couldn’t take him in. I could barely take care of my cat, let alone an energetic eight-year-old boy.
By the time I made it to Smithfield Press, harsh breaths sawed in and out of my lungs. Maybe my rib needed another blast of healing. No time. I slipped through the back door and clocked in. Quickly throwing on an apron, I got to work and prayed to Gaia that the boss was on lunch break. Maybe he’d chalk up the late timestamp to faulty machinery. Most of the machines in this miserable factory were on their last legs anyway.
But ten minutes later, as I was lifting a fifty pound stack of paper, I felt his presence behind me. More like smelled him. I didn’t think he owned a bar of soap.
“Tarik, you’re late again.”
With a grunt, I heaved my load onto the assembly belt. “Sorry, boss. A couple of shifters got the drop on me last night. I won’t let it happen again.”
I faced him and my chest tightened. He had that look, the one that said I had screwed up for the last time. “If you didn’t pick fights in their territory after dark, you wouldn’t be having these problems. Oh, you didn’t think I knew about that? I had to ask around, but I finally got the scoop.” He muttered incoherently for several seconds as I braced for the inevitable blow. “The thing is, Tarik, you’re a troublemaker and I don’t need that in my workplace. If the wrong kind of shifters found out I let you stay on after three strikes, public discipline would be the least of our worries.”
He blew out a breath, raking salt-and-pepper hair behind his pointed Fae ears. “I can’t jeopardize my position in Nathra for you. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a Fae to climb up the corporate ladder? No, of course you don’t,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “Get out of here, Tarik. You’re done.”
My stomach rolled. Not again. “But, sir—”
“No. No more chances. You’re fired. I want to see you gone in five minutes or I’ll have Sully kick you out.” With that, he turned, shaking his head some more.
Bad luck. That’s all I was. All I’d ever be.
I ripped my apron off. Wadding it into a ball, I chucked the cloth as hard as I could. My bones vibrated with the need to punch the life out of something, but there was only paper. Lots and lots of paper spewing nothing but crap about Fae and praise for the animals who ran this city. Good enough. I grabbed the fifty pound stack and, with a growl, flung the whole thing in the air. Paper burst everywhere, rattling, fluttering to the cement in a disorderly heap.
A small kernel of satisfaction bloomed in my gut. I had wanted to do that for six long months. A Fae employee ground to a halt in front of me, bug-eyed and slack-jawed. I straightened, then snarled, “What are you looking at?”
“You—you’re going to get us all killed,” he stammered, staring at the mess I’d made.
The words almost knocked me over. Grisly images, ones that wouldn’t stop haunting me, rapid-fired
