Strange City Magic

3: A Wending Way

"Who are they?" the kid whispered, his voice breathy and piqued.

"Upstanding members of the local community." She rocked forward, trying to lift herself off the ground. Every part of her body screamed; she was more hurt than she realized. Fire shot through her arms when she tried to flex her hands. "Can you stand?"

"I think so." He gripped her elbow, and they helped one another onto their feet. It was a slow, deliberate process, aided in no small part by the brick wall of the alley.

"I never asked, what's your name?"

"Kian," the boy answered.

"It's nice to meet you, Kian. I'm Loren." Their standing activated the three men to stagger down the alley. Their shadows reflected long down the broken concrete, black on grey.

"What do we do?" Kian asked.

She thought about it for a second. "Ever been mugged before?"

The largest of the three came into relief under the light of the moon. Thin black hair sprouted from his broad jaw, but his face remained hidden behind a greasy mess of tangled hair. He opened his mouth to say something, looked over the two of them, and laughed. "Wires?"

"Hey," she said, hesitantly. An immense wave of relief washed over her when a name clicked into place. "Lark."

Lark's cronies fanned out on either side of him, but their demeanor changed. Less intimidating, more bored. "Funny world." He crossed his arms. "What're you doing in my alley?"

"Taking in the scenery. Didn't realize you held a stake in the City's dumpsters."

"Looks bad," he said, smiling, "if I let people run around in my territory."

Loren didn't believe in luck, but she certainly believed in the power of doing good deeds for people in low positions. "How's that old generator holding up?"

"Been okay."

"That was a good trade," she said. "Didn't take much on our side."

Lark motioned to her battered face. "Alright?"

She straightened up, ignoring the headrush. "This is Kian. You caught us in the middle of a job. I would love to catch up, but Su's out looking for us as we speak."

Lark digested that sentence for a moment. "Is that so? Still got that handy piece of hers, I suppose." He stared into both their eyes, one after the other. Then he chewed, licked his lips, wiped his mouth, and stepped aside. Loren tugged Kian to make him move.

"You know why I call her Wires, kid?" he asked as they walked past. "Set up the cables for me and my boys. That, and those skinny little chicken legs of hers. Careful you don't snap those suckers, alright?" He barked with laughter, and his cronies guffawed along with him.

They didn't look back until they reached the end of the alley, by which time their harassers had disappeared down the other end. The adrenaline sustaining her drained out of her body. Loren slumped against the wall, gasping to catch her breath. "Morons," she spat.

"You work with those people?"

"I work with all sorts. Comes with the trade."

Kian looked like he wanted to say something about that, but his eye was caught by the vomit of neon and flashing lights of the street on which they found themselves. Out of the relative silence of the alley, they were now bombarded by shouting, clinking, explosive streetside extravaganza. It was the main thoroughfare of the City, that selfsame not-Chicago boulevard on which every tourist first landed.