“I’m sorry I can’t feed you.”
Alden’s eyes widened a fraction before he recovered with a bony shrug.
“I mean it,” Nate said. Normally, he wouldn’t feel bad about denying Alden the chance. Alden’s habit made him feel used at best and disgusted at worst. But woozy with relief, Nate wanted to share the peace he felt. He wanted to smooth away the tension that never left Alden’s face.
Feeding on Nate used to give Alden the flushed glow of health he normally lacked. It had been over a year now. And it showed in the shadows beneath Alden’s dark eyes. Nothing on the street came close to the properties of a GEM’s blood.
“We can’t have you starving your orphans, I suppose.” Alden’s voice was poison, but concern pinched his brow.
“I’m happy with Reed and the gang, you know. They’re. . .it’s a family.”
“A family you lie to.”
“I—”
“You know they only want you for your tinkering,” Alden said.
Nate tried to tell himself that Alden was only being cruel, but it was probably true. Why else would they want him around? “That’s no better than what you want me for.”
A muscle at Alden’s throat twitched like a plucked string. “That doesn’t make it untrue, dear.”
“I’m the best Tinkerer around.” He wasn’t too sure about that, but it felt good to say. Felt good to show Alden that he was needed, even if it was only for what he could do. “Of course they want me for that.”
“You’re as modest as ever.” Alden slipped away from Nate and pulled his hair into a quick, twisted braid. He gave a delicate shrug. “Go sell your tech and bring the bread home for thefamily. Does that make Reed your brother, then? How titillating.”
“Stuff it, Alden. It’s not like that.” Ducking his chin to hide a blush, Nate stood slowly. His legs didn’t wobble. “I’ll be back next week, when I have time to stay. Not a market day, all right?”
“And stay you will, my love,” said Alden with a toothy, sharp smile.
For now, they could both pretend it would be for more than tinkering around the shop and keeping Fran company.
The front door chimes rang out, and Alden blanched, taking Nate by the sleeve with a wrenching grip. “Go out the back, Natey. Get moving. You’re not the only busy one around here.”
Ushered into the dank alley, Nate jumped at the sound of the door slamming behind him. The smell of sun-ripe piss flooded his nostrils. Unease settled in his bones like sludge, but he didn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWO
Nate dug into his deep pockets and drew out handfuls of tech-guts. He turned over bolts and uncoiled wires until they glittered like treasure on Judy’s table, where she sold odds and ends under a patchwork awning. She held a bundle of red wires to her magnifying glass and squinted. When sunlight caught the polished handle, hazy memories crowded the edge of his awareness. Cold glass. Smooth metal.
Pain.
“Gods watch you!” someone called out—the cheerful close to a transaction.
His gods had an ugly name.
“Your mice have been at play, I see.” She tapped the glass against the table and eyed him impatiently.
He blinked, inhaling the stench of the market to clear his head. Every layer of rot and grease rooted him here in the Withers, far from the hurt. “I came by this honest, ma’am.”
They both knew better, but it didn’t hurt to follow the script. He didn’t want to find another buyer. Judy didn’t pay as well as others, but she didn’t sell to the Breakers. Nate was willing to sacrifice credits to keep the gang’s tech out of their violent hands.
The Breakers had come into power three years before, after the two most influential street gangs decimated their own ranks in an ugly turf war. Life in the Withers didn’t change much when regimes changed. People stayed hungry. Food continued to make its way into the markets—diverted from the rations given to those who registered as workers.
They’d started out harmless enough, doing all their business by Courier and paying off A-Vols. They cleaned up the worst of the pleasure houses and pulled aggressive trappers off the streets. But then they started driving families out of perfectly good housing to set up shop behind locked doors and shuttered windows. They rerouted the power lines and made entire neighborhoods pay for electricity with food rations. When small-time gang leaders stood up to them, those leaders ended up dead—with their bloated bodies on display in their own territories.
And then they’d put the word out: They wanted GEMs, and they’d pay in Gathos City credits for them. While Nate didn’t want his tech to end up in their hands, he wasn’t much interested in catching their attention either.
Judy arched a silver brow as she adjusted her glasses. “I’m sure you’re honest as the dawn. I can give you fourteen credits for the lot. Not a half-credit more.”
