I shifted a few of my newspapers and frowned. I had left my switchblade right there. Anxiety filled me as I quickly started searching. That blade had been a gift from my pa and it was all I had of home.
"Look at the rat, scurrying through the garbage." At the slightly bored but amused tone I gave a frustrated growl and shifted a partially completed record player over, looking under it. Where the hell was it? Anxiety twisted my stomach so hard I felt like I would throw up. "You look pale." I felt pale and worried and sick with myself. I ignored him as I dropped to the floor, yanking a box of metal scrap closer so I could rifle through it.
"This is amusing me but are you looking for this?" At the cold humor my head shot up. His long fingers held the blade I had been searching for and my heart went into my throat as I bounded over to him. I snatched the knife away, looking over it as I touched the trailing designs on the silver of the blade. The cool metal burned my fingertips but I ignored it as I heaved out a sigh of relief.
"You aren't allowed to touch him." I looked up at him, the blade held loosely in my fingertips. I itched to slice the blade through his flesh in reprimand. No one ever touched my knife.
"Him?" He raised an eyebrow as he gave a cruel smirk and I blinked at him.
"Yes. Mr. StabbaStabba." I flipped the knife in the air, catching it before twirling it around my fingers. It felt right to have him in my hands. My heart ached for my family but I shoved the feelings away.
"Mr. StabbaStabba..." He gave me a look and I blinked at him before slowly nodding. He was thick. Pretty but not much else.
"You know... Stabba stabba." I made two quick jabs with the blade before grinning at him. "StabbaStabbaStabbaStabba." I did more, aiming them at his soft spots as if there were no space between us and I was slicing through flesh. He lifted his lip in a warning flash of teeth as I sliced through the air between us.
"Trying something, mongrel?" His voice was low with warning and I ignored it as the silver blade caught a beam of light. I felt a soft smile emerge on my face as the sunlight glinted on the blade. I brought it closer to my eyes and muttered the Gaelic words that were crudely carved into the handle. My pa had carved them himself by the light of the campfire. His warm eyes on his task as his large hands clumsily attempted the fine craft.
"An nì chì na big, 's e nì na big." I whispered the words, feeling more at home with my family's language on my tongue.
I could almost smell the camp smoke and feel my pa's hands holding my legs as he carried me on his shoulders around camp. I could almost hear the chatter, the voices of those within the camp. Childish giggles filled my ears as my baby brother toddled after my mother, her hair up in intricate braids, her pale throat glowing underneath the brown hair. I could nearly see the marking scar pa had given her marring her flesh. I could see my other brother running around as he wrestled with the other children, my pa's laughter vibrating my legs and I pressed my chin to his hair. His almost wild scent filling my nose. He always smelled like home.
"What?" His voice was irritated and it cut through the moment I was having, sending the feelings scurrying away as if trying to hide from him. I felt somber at the loss of them. For a brief moment I was back where I belonged, with my family.
"What the little ones see, the little ones do." It was my pa's idea of a joke. What I saw him and thr warriors do, I did as well. I didn't learn to wield the blade on the streets. He wanted to remind me that I was just as capable as everyone else, regardless of my size or origins.
"That's ridiculous." He sneered at me and I gave him a sickly sweet smile as I tucked the knife back in my pocket.
"Tha thu 'nad fhaighean." The insult felt nice tripping off my tongue. The best part was the agitated look on his face as he couldn't understand what I had said. He truly was a cunt.
"I don't care for yo-"
"I'm going out." I said it brightly as I turned around and nearly bounce towards the door. I shoved my feet into my shoes. "I'll be back... I dunno. Some time? Depends on how many blowies I give while I'm out there." I made a shaking motion in front of my mouth as I wiggled my eyebrows. His lip curled at that and I stopped the motion, biting my lip in thought as I grabbed my knapsack.
"Or get some lip from some lucky, lucky male." I gave a small groan of pleasure as if thinking about it and his growl was heavy in the air as I slipped out of the apartment with a snort. He made it so fucking easy. One would think he would learn not to be bothered by me but he never did. I threw my knapsack over my shoulder and hurried out of the building. I had some shit I needed to do for the day that didn't include tormenting stinky, as much fun as that was. That didn't get me what I wanted or needed.
Contrary to what Stinky might have thought, my world did not revolve around him. I gave a snort at that, "Certainly seems like his world is revolving around me." I snickered at that. What a change for the pureblood elitist.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I elbowed my way through rowdy crowd, searching for my informant. I wanted to get in and get out as quickly as I could. I didn't feel comfortable with stinky hanging around in my apartment without supervision and I'd already been gone for several hours. I wouldn't put it past him to cause trouble simply out of spite. Plus, I wasn't a fan of hanging around the pits, most of the people that came here were the unsavory kind. It was basically as close as one could get to a gladiator arena. I reached out toward my shaking beast, sending all of my strength and love her direction. I knew she hated the heavy metallic tang in the air and the overwhelming dominance bouncing around the room. If I could have avoided putting her through this I would, but I was doing this to keep us from worse things.
The acoustics of the room had the wild cheers and rumbling growls of dueling beasts echoing almost too loud for comfort. Still it was the place where I usually collected the best intel on things that were happening around the city. There were several small fighting circles in the large warehouse but I made my way to the largest one, knowing that I person I had come here for was likely to be at the center of it. If it was one thing I knew about Ginessa it was she enjoyed making a scene.
As expected at the center of the circle was the person in question. She was holding the large male in a submission move, one that I had taught her in exchange for some information a couple of weeks ago. I found myself grinning at her nearly flawless reenactment of the maneuver. Her thin arm wrapped around his thick neck, while she had his arm twisted up behind his back. She wasn't gripping his hand entirely correct, but I wasn't going to split hairs.
"Fucking cunt..." The unlucky bastard choked out between clenched teeth as his face began to change colors, the veins in his forehead bulging as he tried to buck her off.
"I know you are, but what am I?" She squeezed him tighter, pressing her cheek to his. Her silver eyes flicked up toward the crowd, surveying them like the predator that was lurking just beneath the surface. She was always one for putting on a good show for those willing to watch. I had met the tiny pureblood in a bar, she had been drowning herself in a bottle of scotch when an elitist prick thought to get handsy with me. He had met the end of my blade and she had handed me the bottle with a toothy grin. We had spent the rest of the night getting drunk and bonding over our mutual hatred for purebloods, despite her being one herself. The rest was history.
"Go on, tell them who's your daddy..." She whispered seductively into his ear before licking up the side of his face slowly, "Go on...who's your daddy, big boy?" I snorted at her antics, always so theatrical.
I cupped my hands to my face, "If you're not going to fuck the bastard then make him bleed."
Her thin lips cracked into a toothy grin, too much teeth for her small china doll-like face, "Is that what your little black hearts desire? Do you want to see some blood?" She looked over the crowd with a vicious eagerness, as they threw the thumbs into the air. I watched as some turned their thumbs down, asking for mercy on their friend. Overall most of the thumbs were turned sideways, a signal that they wanted Ginessa to slice the bastards throat. I knew that she would happily oblige the crowd, majority rules after all.
She eased back in her form, slicing his throat wide like a pez dispenser as she pulled her arm away. It reminded me of the game we hunted back on the mountain, when we drained them. The blood sprayed out from the gaping slash, splashing onto the dirty concrete they had been fighting on. The crowd came alive with roars of excitement, the violence driving them into a frenzy.
Ginessa spit down at the twitching body as she rose up on her feet, walking to the pit boss. He wore as scowl he handed over her winnings, a pretty nice stack of mark cards, "You good for business, but bad for pockets. You make lots of enemies. They very angry with you for always winning."
"Yes but winning means I make lots of marks and that makes me very happy. If they don't like going home with empty pockets tell them to stop betting against a sure thing." She stuffed the cards into the front pocket of her dirty coveralls, giving him a salute as she turned away, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Daynell. See you again. Same time next week."
She made her way towards me with mischievous light in her eyes, wrapping her hand around my arm and tugging me through the crowd. I rolled my eyes as I let her pull me along behind her like a rag doll, her small hand barely able to wrap around the thickness of my slightly muscular arm. We made our way out the side entrance and into a dirty alley, the sounds of someone fucking somewhere in the shadows had me scrunching up my face, "Alright tiny she-beast, unhand me before I show you how to make someone submit properly." I commented.
"You know I love way you make me submit. I'm a glutton for your punishments, mistress. They hurt so good." Her pale eyebrows wiggled up and down suggestively as she gave a breathy groan, stroking her sides as if in the throes of passion.
I bit my lip at her, "What can I say I'm really good with my hands." I stroked my neck in an exaggerated fashion as I trailed my hand down towards my chest, trying to hide my amusement.
"Yeah you are. You've left me aching for days on end." She gave a low moan as her hand slipped down her belly right before we both burst into peals of laughter. It was so much fun being around someone who actually had a sense of humor.
Our laughter was interrupted as two males lumbered out of the shadows, smelling of sweat and sex. Ending the mystery of who had been playing the live porno for us in the background. They both looked surprised to find the two of us standing there.
"Fuck me..." The tall redhead hissed under his breath, head dipping down in defeat.
"We've been over this Shamus. I'm not really your type. I have a 'V' where you want to see a 'P'." Ginessa replied, tilting her head as she examine his butt buddy. I didn't get the feeling that they were anything more serious than that. Fucking in an alley behind some dirty dumpster sent a certain type of message.
I watched her place an open palm between the two of them, "You know the deal, Shamus. You want me to keep quiet about where you stick your wick then you pay the fee like everyone else." I shook my head, trying to keep myself from smiling at yet another idiot who had gotten himself caught up in one of her blackmailing schemes.
Shamus growled low as he pulled a couple of mark cards from his front pocket and slapped them into her hand, "Bitch." He hissed between his as he shoved his partner toward the door we had exited through
"Always a pleasure. See you next week." She called after him as they disappeared back into the warehouse.
I watched her count the marks he had given her, smiling to herself as she put them with the others. She turned her face to me, laughing, "That idiot makes it too easy. You think is would find a new place to get his dick sucked."
"As much as I love to watch you at work...I came here for other reasons." She knew what I was talking about, I didn't need to explain myself.
I watched Ginessa pull a stick of gum from her pocket, unwrapping it slowly before sliding into her mouth. She rolled her teeth over it thoughtfully, lips smacking together softly, "I've heard some whispers in the wind. You know the deal, Em. It's gonna cost you."
She never changed, didn't matter that we were friends. She was always going to be a greedy little bitch. She knew it, I knew it and I still loved her. I pulled at the satchel hanging from my shoulder, digging into the side pocket, "What I'm curious about is what you do with all these mark cards? What good are they in the long run?" I pulled out a stack of my earnings from the stall, passing them into her already waiting outstretched hand.
She closed her fingers around them with a pleased grin. I watched as she looked them over quickly, adding them up in her head before slipping them in with her other winnings from the night, "They keep me living the high life. I'm not like you mountain dweller. I am used to certain lifestyle-and it racks up a pretty little bill." She patted the pocket, as she snapped her gum against her teeth.
"Well technically I am used to living the high life, being that mountains are generally really tall." I smirked, enjoying the bland look she gave me in response to my comment. I couldn't resist the urge to poke at people, it didn't matter if they were my friend or foe. If they were going to be in my presence than they were going to have to deal with my habit of poking.
"You know what I meant, smart ass."
I shrugged my shoulders innocently, "So tell me about these whispers you heard?"
"Looks like that purist psycho Revan might still be alive." Her lips were drawn into a hateful scowl, "I've heard a couple of bluebloods talking about it. Some claiming to have seen him wandering around our part of the city." I found my lips twitching at her intel. I knew of the purist psycho. I was pretty sure that everyone in the fucking city did, he had left his twisted and ignorant messages everywhere he had went.
"Proof?"
She snapped her gum again, "I doubt there will be any. If the bastard is still alive I doubt he would be stupid enough to leave an actual trail. Not after the way that Madame lady burned through his territory." I could almost still smell the smoke and ash. Not to mention it was a proverbial gold mine. I had found numerous pieces of shit for my projects and of course I had found the lord of the garbage heap, king stinky. I snickered myself at the little nickname, already imagining the look he would give me when I called him that. "They said he took himself a flight. Was kicked out of a window, they couldn't find his body. Hence, whispers." She looked amused at the thought of someone taking a header out of a tall building. I didn't blame her, there were numerous people I would like to kick out of a window myself.
"Lost his scent trail. Too much garbage apparently. Stupid fucks can't even track shit properly." She rolled her eyes, blowing a bubble with her gum before muttering a word that sounded suspiciously like useless.
Lost him in the scent of trash. It was at that thought I realized something about my elitist mate that had me cackling like mad, Ginessa giving me a look like I had lost it again. I'd always known stinky had to be some kind of purebreed asshole of the highest order, but to know he wasn't just any purebreed--that he was the feared Revan, well that just made it all the more hilarious. I couldn't wait to get back to the apartment now. I had a whole box of sore spots I could poke at now. I wanted him to lose his ever loving mind.
"You okay? Or do you want the huggy jacket?" She crossed her arms over her chest as I tried to breathe, tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.
I wiped at my eyes, giggled every so often. "Don't mind me, Nessa. You said trash and I was just reminded of something hilarious." Fucking stellar hilarity. Poor stinky didn't know the shit storm he was about to walk into. If that fucker had broken anything in my apartment, he would have no respite from my chattering little squirrel like mouth.
"Some days I wonder about you. I just want to peek into your head to have some of what you are having because I don't think a stack of marks will buy it." She smirked at me and I shook my head with a small chuckle.
"Doubt it. My shit is the real OG. Hundred percent genuine fucked up on crack cocaine." I kept my expression neutral and her eyebrows went up in mock surprise.
She shook her head as she pointed at me. "You aren't twitchy enough for crack cocaine."
"No, no. My mother was on crack cocaine." I nodded as if correcting a simple mistake. I loved ribbing with Nessa. Outside of tormenting stinky, ribbing with Nessa was my favourite past time. No one could throw back at me as quick as her.
"Ahhhhh, explains it." She looked me over, a smirk tugging up her lips. "Explains a lot to be honest." At the mild insult I rolled my eyes.
"Anything else your blueblood friends were whispering about?" I had paid for the info and I would be damned if she didn't give me what I paid for. I might not have cared for marks but tit for tat. I gave her plenty of tit. I needed more tat.
"The usual. Purity will come forth and wash the streets in foul blood." She made a talking motion with her hand as she made a face of disgust. "Although Doyen Octavia fucking savaged the purists in her territory. We are talking fucking went witch trials on them." She looked gleeful at the thought, her eyes shining brightly.
"Killed dozens of the bastards." She clapped her hands together in excitement and I had to give a laugh at how childlike she looked. "Can't stand those fuckers." Her expression shifted darkly. "Fucking hate hearing about them moving into the neutral territories. Acting like they own the fucking place. Just spitting on everyone like they are above it all." Her form shook violently with her intense rage and I let her rant. She continued for a few more minutes before she petered out, a dark look of hate on her face.
"Speaking of bluebloods..." Her hateful look shifted into one of wicked delight, "I heard about you going all ripper on one at the market the other day." She wiggled back and forth with excitement.
I gave her a bland look and shrugged. "I prefer the term pumpkin carver." I watched as that wicked grin grew wider.
"You didn't..." She breathed the words out between her laughter.
"Made him my little bitch." I smirked at her and her eyes sparkled at the thought of the mutilation I had doled.
"Did you go for his face?" She sounded excited at the prospect and I chuckled, shaking my head. I didn't like thinking about the stupid blueblood. Anger rolled through me heavily every time I did so. No one touched me like that. No one.
"Nope. I gave him a nice little chest piece. Big blocky letters letting the world know he was my bitch." I held my hand out in front of me, making an arc with them in the air as if showcasing my carving for her.
She shook her head as her laughter tapered out, "Only you, Emily. So did you release him into the wild, to be mocked and derided?" She gave me a wicked grin at the thought of having the blueblood purist taken down a peg and I gave her a feral one in return as I shook my head.
"Smoky had some good eats." At that her mouth dropped open. I knew the viciousness would appeal to the little feral beasty inside of her. We were an odd pair, we were.
"Alive?" She breathed the word out and I nodded.
"From the bottom up."
She stomped her foot petulantly. "Oh fuck! How am I supposed to top that?" She gave a frustrated groan and I had to agree. It was one thing to turn a person into a pez dispenser and another to allow a wild beast to eat them from the legs up. I had to admit it was my finest work.
"I don't think you can, Ginessa." I tsked softly and she pointed at me, her eyes narrowing.
"I will beat this." I didn't doubt she would try. We were in the brutality Olympics together and both of us were going for the gold.
"You can try." I looked around and then shook my head slightly. I had gotten the information that I had needed and now I needed to get back to my apartment and torment my little mongrel hater. "Thanks for the info, Nessa. If you do manage to beat my latest creation, which I doubt you will, let me know." I started walking backwards as I saluted her.
She returned the gesture before she gave me another wicked grin, "I'm always at the pits, Em. If you want a daily dose of pure blood spillage." She winked at me and I laughed loudly. I would have been joining in at the pits but my poor little beasty was so timid that the violence and crowds were too much for her. I sent her gentle waves of love, trying to calm her down from her violently shaking state. I knew it wouldn't work until we had left the pits.
I turned around and headed down the back alley, clutching my knife tightly in my hand. There were too many opportunities for others to jump me in the back alleys for me to part with the knife for even a moment. I moved through the alleys and streets silently, baring my blunt teeth at anyone who looked at me wrong. My beast slowly stopped her shaking the closer we got to the apartment building. I watched the streets for the thug gangs. They avoided me though. Its was hard to aim for prey when the prey would fight back.
I walked into the building and up the stairs towards my apartment. I couldn't smell smoke so I doubted he set something on fire. I could hear some bass from the apartment two floors below and I wiggled my hips to it slightly, smirking as I did so. I slowly opened my door, looking around. I could hear the shower going and I slowly perused the apartment. Everything looked to be in order. I slowly slipped inside and kicked off my shoes. I turned my head and a wicked grin crossed my face as I realized my little King Stinky was showering with the door open.
I creeped up on the open door, I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see what he was or wasn't working with. I had a theory that all of his anger stemmed from a possible napoleon complex but I had no proof one way or the other. I peeked in through the cracked door, the steam had fogged up the mirror and covered the small room in a thick layer of white mist.
He had his shoulder hunched forward as he tried to fit himself into the small space, the shower head fixed on his shoulder blades. My eyes followed the descent of the water streams running down his chest and over his healing bruises. His skin was a mosaic of yellows, blues, and browns. However his skin covered a finely muscled physique that had me licking my lips lightly. I couldn't help how greedy my gaze was as I followed the water through the hair collected on his lower stomach to his very erect cock. The thing was standing at full attention as if it was saluting me. I had been wrong, his complex was far from napoleon.
His complex was more than likely arrogance from walking around with that meat cannon between his legs. It defied the laws of physics. My king stinky had a lot to be ashamed of but this was not one of the things he could add to that list. However the way he avoided it while he washed his body told me that he was ashamed of his... not so little stinky. I couldn't help but grin knowingly. How awful and disgusting it must have been for him to want to bone the foul little mongrel...so priceless.
I shifted from where I was leaned against the door jam watching him, "Shut the fucking door! You weren't raised in a barn, Revan!" I did my best to mimic the tone he used when he did it to me as I slammed the door shut, snickering to myself as I walked away. I pulled my satchel off of my shoulder, opening it up on the table. I had found a couple of cool items at the scrap yard before I went to the pit. They were a bit rusty, but with a little bit of elbow grease I could turn them into something of worth.
I was organizing them accordingly when the bathroom door opened, "So you finally figured out who I was, mongrel." His chest puffed up, lips twisting up into a smug grin as he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. There were still droplets of water spattered over his chest.
I stared at him blankly, perching myself on the window sill. The moment he opened his mouth I felt my nether regions drying up. The Sahara fucking desert between my legs. "The girls I knew used to call you The Reaper." I made quotation marks as I said it. His grin turned into a toothy smile, clearly pleased by the title. I was practically drowning in his arrogance and narcissism. "They used to speak about you in hushed tones as if saying your name would cause you to step out of the shadows behind them." Each word seemed to puff him up more, making his arrogance that much worse.
"They were convinced that you haunted the dark corners where no one dared to go. That if they stepped wrong, said wrong... you would steal their soul." It was a ridiculous notion. Even before I knew him, saw him, I knew it was completely ridiculous to make a myth out of a man. The reality was always... lacking. It was like being told forever that there was a boogeyman under your bed but when you finally gathered the courage to look, there was only dust bunnies.
"Smart girls." He sneered it slightly and I raised an eyebrow.
"Foolish girls. You aren't death. You are a male. A plain, ordinary male." I turned to look out the window. "Death... death is so much more than you. The reaper of souls is so much more than you. You are proud of your cloak of a name. The reaper." I scoffed at it.
"Death is not a hot blooded male who smells of bitter cherry whiskey." I smirked slightly. "Death is the shadows in the world. A cold glance from the darkest corner of your room. The feeling of a silver blade trailing up the center of your spine." I shivered under the thought. Death was always close by with me. This male believed he was so much more than that and he was so wrong.
"The reaper is a cold blade through hot flesh, spilling hot blood. He is in that glaze in their eyes as they slowly lose their life's blood through the gashes made. You aren't death. You aren't the reaper." I slowly turned to look at him. "Revan... you are a cheap, ill-made imitation of the real thing. Nothing more than that."
His jaw clenched tightly at my words, eyes narrowing. He wanted to strangle me, the hatred for what I was burned brightly in his icy gaze. Except he couldn't bring himself to do, how much it must have burned him for that to be the case. Slowly my lips lifted into a toothy smile as he grabbed the clean clothes that I had got at the market for him the other day and went back in the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Revan wasn't anything but the king of shit and ashes at this point.
And for a man used to ruling with a golden crown perched on his brow, having nothing but broken bottles, crumpled plastic, and rusting metal to make a new one, would fucking rankle him.
All hail the lord of the slums and the trash, King Revan. I snorted at that heavily. The only kingly thing about him was his cock.