Page 337 of Hunters and Prey

The look on my friend’s face as I propelled her out of the cottage and into the night was enough to make me want to pummel a rock.

Rae’s cottage was surrounded by dense woodland, but Helgi had made the trip enough to be able to navigate the area with her eyes closed. I followed her broad back, weaving through the trees in silence until the foliage thinned and we finally stepped onto a dirt track.

Juniper, our dust buggy, was parked up, waiting. She was an ugly mishmash of parts, but her engine was solid, and she ran like a dream. Helgi and I had worked on her for hours in our spare time, sourcing parts and fitting them in my rundown, tiny workshop on the farm. Juniper was our baby, and we happily shared custody of her.

I climbed up into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The silence was getting to me. “I need a drink.”

Come on, Helgi, let it go.

Helgi exhaled and rolled her neck on her shoulders. Yeah, this was my friend shaking it off.

She swung herself up onto the back of the buggy. “Let’s go get shitfaced and pick up a job.”

The air was absent the buzz of sentinels as Helgi and I made our way through the Outlands toward the Beer and Tap. It was late and I should be heading home to Dad and the kids, but Helgi needed this. If Dad found out what I’d done tonight and where I was headed, being stronger and larger than the average female wouldn’t save me from a tongue-lashing. If he found out about the jobs we’d been picking up then there’d be hell to pay. But the jobs were a necessary evil, they were our way out of Dust Town and into the glades. I’d buy a house and set up a workshop repairing Outland tech, because technology was my thing, even though for some reason other Skins couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

Being the mutated offspring of Dreki and humans, we’d taken on many of the less appealing characteristics of our dragon ancestors, like scales, fangs, and talons. Many had also inherited the inability to comprehend human technology, but not me. I’d taught Helgi the basics. Enough so that when we got out of this dump we could partner and Dad could finally retire. I hadn’t told her the plan yet. That part was a surprise.

The Beer and Tap came into view. A rundown building—part brick, part wood, part sheets of corrugated metal, a patchwork of fabulousness in a desert of awful. This was the spot Skins went to drown their sorrows, celebrate their successes, or just forget the shitcake that their lives were. For Helgi and me, it was a place to source out information and to pick up our next job.

Bringing the buggy to a smooth halt, I pocketed the keys and climbed down. Far in the distance, the lights of Draco City turned the night sky a muted gray with all their electrically produced artificial light, tauntingly reminding us of what we could never have, not unless we signed up for voluntary servitude to the Draco, and like fuck that was ever going to happen. The dragon bloods, or the Draco as they were more commonly known, were the better-looking, unmutated offspring of Dreki and human unions, and boy did they never let us forget it.

“Fuck ’em,” Helgi said, echoing my thoughts, her tone gruff. “Who needs soft beds and central heating when we can have freedom?”

I snorted. “Yeah, sod them and their hot running water and instant electricity.”

The sarcasm was heavy in my tone, but Helgi just grinned, showcasing her jagged teeth—her curse for being a Skin, and the feature that gave her a dangerous air and had men pausing before taking her on and women melting at her feet.

Jumping off our ride, I stashed Jezebel in the hidden compartment at the base of the dune buggy.

We crunched over broken glass, kicking scattered bottle caps with our boots, and ducked through the door into the grimy, welcoming interior of the Beer and Tap. The scent of unwashed bodies, the blare of questionable music, and the familiar comforting sound of several colorful cuss words being bandied about slapped us in the face.

This was a no-weapons zone by unspoken agreement, where rival gangs and enemies could take a break from animosity, share a pint, and wax lyrical until it was time to step back into reality and don the mantle of hostility once more. But like hell I was going anywhere without at least three blades on my person. Blades were reliable—they didn’t run out of ammo and they didn’t freeze up on you. But we weren’t here to fight.

Not tonight.

“Anya!” A bearded monolith raised his tankard from across the room.

I raised a hand in greeting.

“You should fuck him,” Helgi said. “I’ve heard he has the stamina of a bull.”

“Not interested.”

“Fussy.”

“No, I just have standards.”

“Well, in that case, you may as well stick a lock on your cunt, ’cos class is the last thing you’re gonna find in the Outlands.”

I chuckled. “I’m good. You can keep me entertained with your exploits.”

Her guffaw was dirty. “Oh, babe, I could tell you some stories.”

“On second thought, please don’t ...”

She let out a bark of laughter and cut a path to the bar. Her broad frame parted the crowd like a crowbar.

Where my body was tall, lithe, and corded with muscle, hers was stocky and bulging with power, a gift from our ancestors—the Dreki—the dragons that had tried to claim our world a long time ago.

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