I’d gotten lucky with this one. It had been hunting for its nest.
A mother trying to feed her children.
No. I couldn’t allow sentimentality to color the big picture. There was a reason for what I did. A valid, vital reason, and that was all that mattered.
* * *
Pennyriff Market wasone of the shadiest parts of Carlston Town, and one of my regular haunts ever since I’d taken on freelancing as a side gig six months ago. Center for Critter Control didn’t pay enough for what I needed, and there was nothing in my contract stating that freelancing was prohibited. Still, I’d kept it quiet. Dabbling in critter capture for interested parties was much more lucrative, but it was also competitive. My job at the CCC provided the stability of a regular wage to cover the dry periods in freelancing.
Today, the wind had blown smog from the textile factories directly over the market. It hung low in a thick, gray cloud, the acrid stench mingling with the smell of roasting meat, ruining the usually enticing aroma. My stomach still managed a grumble, reminding me that it had been several hours since breakfast.
I wove through the crowd, trap held close to my chest, past smudged faces that looked inward. Probably lost in thoughts of their own problems. Threadbare coats, tattered scarves, fingerless gloves, and worn shoes were the dress code here. I’d done my best to emulate it, to fit in, but even then, my coat was a little too well-kept, gloves too clean, and shoes not worn enough.
I caught a few curious glances but was quickly dismissed—after all, why would anyone who didn’t need to be in this part of town be here?
With no functioning telecom or radio towers, this part of town was off the grid. They’d tried to repair the towers a few times, but the fix hadn’t taken. Magic was too weak here and so the magi-generators couldn’t activate to power the towers.
The Overshadowing had altered Nova Terra in many ways, but the main impact lay in how technology functioned. Before The Overshadowing, magic and technology had co-existed, but afterward, the balance was disrupted. Now magic acted as a crutch for technology. Certain regions had higher magic potency than others, and it was only in those regions that magitech could function continuously. The rest of the world made do with controlled, timed surges of electricity.
Pennyriff was a low-surge area that ran on manual labor and hope. It was a place of necessity. The cheapest food and wares you’d find anywhere in Carlston, along with the kind of hole-in-the-wall places reserved for nefarious trades and deals.
I passed stalls selling fabric, bruised fruit and vegetables, knick-knacks, and old appliances in need of repair. Meat of dubious origin sizzled on a skillet to my left, and damn it smelled good.
I might grab a bite on the way back to the tram station.
The crowd thinned as I approached the edge of the market, where a row of three-story residences leaned together like conspirators, forming a barrier into what the locals called the rat run—a network of streets and alleys housing the unfortunate populace of this section of town.
It was dark in the run, claustrophobic in the narrow streets that twisted and turned, cutting slender paths between homes that were huddled together, connected by makeshift bridges made of wood and rope. Laundry hung from dark windows, and the hum of life hidden behind doors covered in peeling paint made the journey a little less creepy.
I walked faster, vigilant, because although the run was generally safe for residents, outsiders were fair game for local gangs.
My destination wasn’t far now. I took a left at one of the few lampposts that illuminated the run and hurried down the alley that was one arm of a crossroads, connecting me to where I needed to be.
My scalp pricked in warning a moment before two figures stepped out of the shadows, blocking my path. The anemic lamplight illuminated them—one tall and broad, the other short and stocky. Both dressed in the gray and black overalls of the CCC.
I gripped the trap tighter. “Trent. Harry. Fancy meeting you here, in this dark alley in the middle of the afternoon, miles away from where you guys were supposed to be today.” I smiled thinly. “Did you decide to take a long detour?”
Trent matched my smile with a cold one of his own, and a chill slid up my spine to hug my nape. “Cut the bullshit, Anamaya. We’ve been watching you.”
“Well, that’s not creepy at all. I’m going to have to speak to HR. I’m sure you understand.”
“You always do this,” Harry snapped. “Make a joke of everything. This is no joke. You’re freelancing while working for the CCC, and that won’t stand. Give us the critter, and we’ll say no more about it.” He held out his shovel-like hands, as if he expected me to simply hand over the bounty that I’d spent three days trawling through sewers to find.
“It’s a good thing you’re nice to look at, Harry, because you’re denser than smog.”
“Huh?” He looked to Trent for an explanation.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I know you’re not going to take the critter back to the CCC. You’re working freelance for Carlisle. I know what critters he’s been after, and I know you two tossers haven’t the tracking or trapping skills to nab any of them on your own. If you think I’m going to let you steal from me, then you’re not only dense, you’re also delusional.”
Trent stepped forward, pulling himself to his full six-two height and puffing out his chest. “There are two options for you here. Give us the trap and walk away, or we beat you to a pulp and take it from you.”
“I don’t want to go with them. Please.”
I ignored the critter, tapping my chin and feigning consideration of their proposal. “I think I’ll go with the third option.”
“There is no third option,” Harry said, brows low in confusion.
“Shut up, H,” Trent snapped. “She’s being a smartass.” He looked down his nose at me. “Go on then. What’s the third option?”
