Page 36 of Outlaw Witch

11

In the end, I don’tgo back up to the fifteenth floor and the mages’ apartment. Instead, I head on home, messaging Roscoe on the way to let him know that I’m in.

My stomach aches when he sends me a bunch of excited messages in return and asks if I want any help in moving my stuff in. I ignore him, figuring that although I’m too wired right now for a nap, I have time to have a minor existential crisis before I pack all my shit up and head back to The Spire.

It’s not like I have much stuff that I’m going to take with me. Hopefully, I won’t be there too long and then maybe we can work out a better place for us all to live. The warehouse isn’t sustainable with the state it’s in, and you can bet I’m going to milk this opportunity to get as much help for my family as I can get.

I steady my whirling emotions on the walk back, trying to work through the shock and anger at Felix Hawkshead’s threats.

Plus the fear, that’s a pretty powerful addition, poisoning my gut.

By the time I’m back at the warehouse, I’ve slapped my cheerful face on. Or...happierface, at least. If I went around with a creepy clown smile in place, pretty sure that would signal something was wrong. I’m actively pretending like my life is not spiraling out-of-control right now. I can’t fight these circumstances, so I’d better roll with them.

Good thing I’m more than a little resilient.

I’m thankful that I don’t bump into anyone as I dump the cash from the surveillance job into our various hiding spots around the warehouse and then stomp off for a shower. The freezing water is enough to make me wince, so I lather up what’s left of the soap and quickly wash up. Then drying myself with brisk movements, I pull on a fresh pair of jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket, plus my old faithful boots. Braiding my hair back, I slick on some mascara and eyeliner as war paint and then I’m good to go. Shoving a couple of week’s worth of clothes into a duffel, I add a few of my latest haul of treasures and my soldering iron in case I’m bored while I’m over there.

It takes a depressingly short amount of time to pack up my stuff, then I’m ready to head out.

I then head over to find Rook. He’s the only person around here who knows who I am. He has done right from the start, right before I realized it was imperative for me to keep my lips locked about my powers and my true identity.

I trust him with my life and my secrets. Not just because he barely says a word, but also because he’s shown up for me over and over again over the years.

The dude also has seriously expressive eyebrows, barely visible under his big mop of hair. They’re doing some crazy acrobatics across his face when I plop down onto his bed with a little groan and spill the details of my morning.

“You’re going then?” he finally grunts out.

I nod, puffed out and emotionally drained. “I can’t say no. It might also be a good thing for me to get some physical distance from this place.” I shrug. “As much as I’m hoping the mages are true to their word about helping everyone here, I don’t want to risk making the situation even more dire if the truth comes out.”

Rook furrows his brow thoughtfully. “Might be a good idea.”

My stomach sinks. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say. Did I think he might volunteer to come along with me? That would never work. He’s the backbone of our family. Quiet, but always present. A stable force that we all need.

No. It’s safer for me to go alone. Even if it feels like I’m walking into a prison cell of my making. Or possibly the cave of a very volatile bunch of dragons.

“Keep your head up,” Rook tells me. “Don’t let your guard down.”

I nod at him. There’s zero chance of that happening.

*

SHOULDERING MY DUFFELand swallowing down a healthy dose of trepidation, I eye the revolving front door of The Spire and try to self talk myself into taking a step closer.

Ugh. I’m not one to cower away from things that should scare the shit out of me. I could raise hordes of damn zombies and tear this city to the ground if I chose to.

Probably.

I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever flexed the skill since it’s illegal and being discovered would result in my death and all. But Icanshoot fireballs out of my damn hands. I can hear your thoughts if I choose to.

I am not weak. Nor pathetic.

And maybe it’s about time I stop skulking around in the shadows like an alley rat.

Icanget through the next few weeks without destroying my life in the process. I will getthroughthis obstacle, just like I’ve gotten through everything else that’s been thrown at me.

That’s the thing about us outsiders, the dregs of society. We’re tough as old beaten leather.

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