No wonder Alden had laughed at him.
“I don’t want you to go,” Pixel sobbed out against Nate’s shoulder.
“I know, Pix. I know you don’t.”
She grasped at him like she was drowning, and it took Sparks and Reed both to pry her away. Nate’s hand brushed against Reed’s as they managed to get Pixel into Brick’s arms and under a heavy blanket.
He caught Reed’s gaze and said, “I’ll try.”
It wasn’t the kind of hope he should give Reed, but he couldn’t leave with Reed thinking he was so far gone that he’d walk away from the gang without a fight.
Reed didn’t smile, but relief shone in his eyes. “I would walk you out, but I’ve got to get Pix settled before she makes herself sick.”
“You sure you don’t want instructions for the system?”
Sparks rolled her eyes. “You draw like a toddler, Nate. Pixel can handle it.”
“Didn’t you learn anything from July? I thought you were better than this.” Brick rocked Pixel and glared at him.
“I’ll have to do right by you, then.” Nate wished it were that simple.
But chem fiends were sunk so deep in their hungers that the chem was part of who they were, as unchangeable as the blood in Nate’s veins.
Nothing was ever simple.
With his backpack weighing at his shoulders, Nate made his way to the door, his breath uneven with unshed tears. He paused, turning back to Reed to get the code word out of habit. Seeming to know, Reed crossed to him and pulled him into a loose hug.
Nate ducked out of the embrace. “I can’t,” he said, hoarse.
Reed stared at him. “Walk well, Nate. Please.”
CHAPTER TEN
Red smog-clouds bled on the horizon at sunset. Flickering bin-fires lit the street, and the warm glow hid the grime of the Withers. Bruises and sickness faded in the firelight.
Pleasure peddlers and chem pushers sold their wares in the shadows. Keeping his chin ducked low, Nate hurried through the crowd. His bloodshot gaze and runny nose made him look like someone who needed a fix or a warm body to bed, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not tonight.
A man holding up a pair of shiny blue shoes bumped into Nate.
“Name your price, kid!”
No one had shoes like that in the Withers. Nate’s fingers drifted to the angry scar at his hairline.
“You hear me?” The man leaned close, his big grin full of brown teeth. “Straight from Gathos City. Only singed a bit.”
“No.” Nate stumbled back. “No, thanks.”
He turned and ran, pushing through the crowd and dodging around the hot fires. He had to get away from the shoes and clothes and fancy timepieces people had pulled off the commuters.
When Nate reached the railway, long lines stretched behind every ladder and stairway. The noisy crowd writhed like a dying sludge-fish. He’d get trampled before he ever made it onto the walkway. He swallowed back a frustrated sob and tried to remember the quickest way to Alden’s without taking the rails.
Nate stayed out of the shadows. If he got himself robbed now, he’d have nothing. Everything he owned thumped against his back. His tools and tool belt. A blanket. Some mismatched socks. His dusty coat in a bundle. No food, no credits, no spare tech. He had no choice but to go straight to Alden.
Alden, who had hidden the GEM manual from him—had kept him from understanding the limitations and the wonder of his own blood and body. He’d known more of Nate’s origins than Nate himself and hadn’t told him. Hadn’t let him see.
Pixel says it’s magic.
And Alden had used him. Made him weak and helpless. Twisted his feelings up until he didn’t know if they were friends or if he was nothing more than athingAlden wanted to keep.
