“Pig Girl?” a boy with more pimples than face asks, his brow wrinkling.
Stone growls again. “That what you call her?”
The boy gulps and decides not to answer that question.
“She got off at the first stop.”
I spin and march to the driver.
“Where was that?”
“Downtown.”
I look at Stone.
What the hell is she doing there?
41
Rhi
“So I’m assumingthis is the shitty part of the city,” I say, tugging up the hood of my sweater. There’s a bite to the air and a sea mist hangs around the rundown-looking buildings.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Andrew says, peering around. “Why? Is it not up to your standards?” he asks, with a humor that sounds a tad defensive.
“No, you should have seen some of the places I’ve lived in. This is like a paradise compared to some of those towns,” I say, with a smile. Although, if I’m honest, those places may have been rundown, they may have lacked money and taste, but they didn’t have this aura of threat about them. Unlike this place with its poorly lit alleyways, and eerie creak of distant machinery. “How far’s the pool hall?”
Andrew continues to swing his gaze, ignoring my question.
“Are we lost?” I tease. “I thought you were a regular.”
“What?” he snaps.
“I thought you were a regular,” I repeat. “Are we lost?”
“No, I mean, yes, I am a regular. It’s just around this corner.”
“There?” I say, frowning as he points to what looks like a dead end. “I can’t see the entrance, Andrew. Are you sure you got this right? Maybe we should retrace our steps, or ask someone or–”
“It’s right there,” he says, pushing me towards the dark street.
“Andrew?” I say.
I don’t like this. My magic tingles in my fingers.
Suddenly I don’t like this at all.
What am I doing on a lonely, dark street with a man who has already proven himself to be untrustworthy?
“You’re frightening me, Andrew,” I say, lifting my hands.
Andrew shakes his head and I suddenly see he’s as uneasy as I am; his face drained of color.
“It’s not him you need to be frightened of, little mouse,” a sinister voice says from behind me.
I jump.
Andrew steps away.