Page 27 of Outlaw Witch

Dammit, I really hoped that things were going our way with no outside interference.

“Not me specifically, but I know who ordered the job.” He leans against the doorway. “Now I’m here, bright and early, to take you to get your payment. I’ll even spring for breakfast.”

Something tells me I’m not getting out of this. Roscoe might not give off the same assholish vibes as Zeph, but he still flung me over his shoulder and rocked up at my home uninvited. He also apparently orchestrated this entire job. And he doesn’t seem to be backing off, despite my obvious hesitation to get involved in their business.

“Fine.” I turn to Ember, who raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Whether it’s with me or the situation, I can’t be sure. “You head home and I’ll see you later.”

Despite being potentially hours from the slightly lumpy embrace of my bed, I’ll just have to suck it up. One good thing about being sedentary for the past few days is that at least my ankle is no longer busted up. It’s still a little bruised, but I can walk on it, or run if I really have to.

Roscoe leads me outside and down the street to where a sleek, black car is parked. He opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get inside before getting into the driver’s seat.

The whole thing takes me by surprise. Not just because I’m shocked by the gentlemanly manners, but also because people in this city treat us outcasts like shit. Like we’re the lowest of the low. Common courtesy is like a totally alien thing for me to have directed my way.

I slump down into the comfortable leather seat, exhaustion making my eyes heavy as Roscoe pulls smoothly out into the early morning traffic. I can’t let myself relax, though. Not yet. Not until I have the cash safe and I’m back at the warehouse, preferably behind a locked door.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about? Why you needed eyes on the vamp nest?”

He smirks at me. His hazel eyes flicking up and down my disheveled form before returning to the road. “Are you going to agree to help Fabian?”

When I just stare at him, he shrugs unrepentantly. “I’m not being a dick. I’m just not going to get you involved in our business until you agree to come onboard properly.”

“And sneakily commissioning a job for me to do, without telling me it was you counts as you ‘not getting me involved in your business?’” I scoff.

He shrugs again. “I figured you could probably do with the cash, and I asked around. You seem to have a reputation for doing good work.”

We drive in silence for a little while and it takes me too long to notice that he’s not going in the direction I’m expecting. Instead, we’re heading straight into the Nexus District. A place that’s renowned for its buzzing nightlife and even more bustling place on the black market scene. The district is a chaotic mass of people and intertwining streets. A mishmash of buildings that look so old they could have sprouted from the ground, and brand new skyscrapers with windows sparkling in the sunshine. Right in the middle, though, is The Spire. An imposing gray building that’s brutal to look at, it’s all sharp edges and zero softness and as you look further and further up, it forms an optical illusion where the levels don’t seem to match up. Parts of the building swivel and change seemingly at random, which looks impressive, but must drive the inhabitants insane. Imagine wandering along, thinking you’re on the third floor and then, hey presto, you’re suddenly at the very top of the building.

This is where Roscoe stops, parking his car in a lot that’s situated right outside, by a sign that has his name printed on it.

As if I needed reminding that he’s a big deal around here.

I’ve only ever been inside The Spire once. Back when I was twelve years old and had just made my escape from the judiciary. I remember begging for sanctuary from the people I’d heard were on the dodgy end of the law. I figured what better place to run in my newly fugitive state?

I promised myself after that day, I’d never come back here.

Roscoe gets out of the car and then once again opens my door for me, waiting patiently as I silently freak out over where we are.

Seeing this place has me feeling like a terrified child all over again. I can remember the feeling of cool sweat trickling down my back. The way my cheeks felt feverishly hot. I’d practically gone down to my shaking knees, begging for someone to help me.

But it turned out that while the people around here might deal in the black market, and might be a little more open about the grayness of their morals, that doesn’t mean they’re impervious to the influence of the Archarcans.

Or at least, they weren’t going to risk pissing them off by harboring a fugitive. Even if I was a kid.

I swallow hard and try to blank my expression as Roscoe leads me inside the revolving glass door. We step into a marble atrium that’s so at odds from the outside. The dissonance is jarring, and I almost feel like we can’t be in the same building. There are people milling about the place, mostly dressed in black, with their heads down, their focus on their cell phones. Like they’re too busy to take a moment to stop.

I’m shepherded straight toward a bank of elevators, and I follow silently as we head inside and Roscoe stabs the button for the eleventh floor.

“Kind of intimidating when you first see it, I know,” he says, misinterpreting my silence as shock and awe.

He doesn’t know yet that I’m not one to getintimidatedby very much at all.

I’m a big girl and I’ve been fighting my own battles for a long time now. I learned a long time ago, you can’t let your mind get in the way of that.

It’s probably not a good idea to seem too freaked out though. I don’t want to show any kind of weakness in front of him, so I push down my feelings like a pro and rustle up some small talk.

“So, you live here?”

He nods. “There are a bunch of residential floors mixed in with office space and some places we use for storage. I’ve lived here all my life, so have Fabian and his family. They’re a whole legacy here.”

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