The City on the Edge

Business was picking up through the market but the push of White Guard patrols seemed to intimidate many people into simply staying home. There seemed to be more white uniforms than anything else walking the streets.

Ronnie passed by the empty stall still standing next to Basso’s shop. The shelves were barren, picked clean by desperate thieving hands. The colored glass marbles from yesterday had been plucked from the ground. Ronnie could see the indents of fingers swiping through the loose dirt. There were still remnants of black smudges pressed to the ground, not quite devoured by the smaller demons yet. It seemed that Valerie, who was still recovering in Basso’s shop, had already been forgotten by her neighbors.

It was a terrible, shameful truth in the Edge. Lorna’s demand that something had to change hailed back to Ronnie. She knew it was the truth, but the Edge had been this way for over two centuries. How was anyone supposed to change it?

“Ronnie!”

Ronnie turned her head to the voice calling her name. She caught the blaze of red hair bobbing through the crowd, hurrying towards her. Ronnie’s lips quirked up when Lorna stopped in front of her, red faced and panting, a box tucked under her arm. It was almost like the witch knew she’d been in Ronnie’s thoughts.

“I wanted to come with you,” Lorna complained, wiping beads of sweat from her brow, testament to how far she’d run. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Thought I could use a quiet morning.”

“Oh.” Lorna’s eyes dropped to the case in her hands. “You’ve already been to Basso,” she sounded disappointed. “I wanted to come and see how Valerie is doing.”

Ronnie nudged Lorna forward and walked beside her. “He said she’s doing okay. She hasn’t left yet. He wants to keep an eye on her, just in case.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose,” Lorna’s tone didn’t match her words. There was sympathy in her voice, but in the Edge, sympathy often warred with desperation.

They walked in silence for a while, unusual for Lorna, who often had several things to say. Ronnie cast glances over at her every few minutes. Her cheerful face was dark, frown lines creasing the furrow of her brow and the downward tilt of her lips. Ronnie didn’t have to ask what had her down- she already knew.

“Everything will be okay,” Ronnie said, nudging Lorna’s shoulder with her own.

Lorna looked up at her, her lip pulled between her teeth. “I hope so.” She suddenly seemed to remember the box she was holding as they reached the road that would take them home. “Wait. I told Malik that we’d go see Fence.”

Ronnie raised her brows. “He’s actually letting someone else deal with that guy?”

“I guess Anya’s late checking in. You know how she can be. I volunteered so he can focus on her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. This isn’t the first time she’s dropped low to pull off one her crazy heists.”

Lorna took the turn that led them around the market instead of home. “Yeah, but this is different. You’ve seen all the extra guardsmen out.”

It seemed like the entire Edge was under scrutiny. Ronnie wondered if anyone had attacked the guard in the past. Not just a fist during a disagreement, but an actual coordinated attack. She looked up at the wanted posters plastered to the buildings. The insignia that the group wore was on every poster- the curled drop of water. Spaced generously between the wanted posters was Premier King’s disapproving face. It seemed he was wasting no time in searching for these assailants. It made her wonder, had there been groups like this in the past or were they the first?

The White Guard certainly wasn’t making things easier on anyone, Ronnie thought as she stepped to the side to allow a grumbling patrol of guardsmen pass by her. This group attacks, fails, and then leaves the supernaturals in the Edge to shoulder with the consequences.

“Oh goddess,” Lorna whispered under her breath. “She’s right there.”

“Who?” Ronnie stepped around her.

A woman, maybe ten years their senior, sat outside of Fence’s shop. Her dark hair hung down in uneven strands, some of it knotted around her bony fingers as she grabbed at it. She rocked in place, her back hitting the wall behind her, and she muttered incoherent words in a whisper that rasped like rocks scraping the ground.

Ronnie kept in front of Lorna as they approached the door. The woman stared up at them with dull green eyes, her lips never stopping their motions. This close to her, Ronnie could make out the blackness that covered the woman’s tongue and stained her teeth. Grotesque scratches that dripped black stretched down the side of her neck, like she’d tried to tear off her own ears.

“they’re here…under us…changing us…we’re dying…”

The woman reached out to Ronnie as she pushed Lorna through the door. The woman’s fingers opened and closed at her and Lorna reeled back from her grasping hands with a gasp, disappearing through the door.

“he will destroy us…cleansed by fire but never gone…”

Ronnie ducked inside the shop as the woman rambled behind her. Lorna was already at the counter, her frame rigid and tense. Ronnie traced a hand up her back in what she hoped was soothing.

“She scares me,” Lorna whispered.

“My sister scares everyone,” a voice called from the behind the counter. “Helps me keep out the riff raff.”

Fence came out from behind the shaggy curtain that blocked his back room from view. His appearance was entirely out of place for this part of the Edge- his clothes were too clean, his hair was too neat and his smile was too wide. Ronnie felt greasy just looking at him. Her face scrunched when Fence trailed his eyes over Lorna and she caught the way he slid his tongue over his teeth. She set the case of blood on the counter with a bang and moved her hand to Lorna’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes at him.

Fence had a terrible taste for young women, too young, and she’d heard from Malik that he didn’t like to keep his hands to himself. Claws dipped out from her fingers and Fence’s eyes darted over to them and then to her. She hoped the threat was clear. She wouldn’t hesitate to take those eyes right out of his head.

He smiled seemed to widen at her and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t get it, or if he took the threat as a challenge instead.

“Welcome, ladies,” he opened his arms wide. “Is there anything I can…interest you in?” The words were syrup sweet and so thick they could have dripped right off his lips.

Ronnie glanced around at the shelves full of what was probably over-priced junk. Some jars were filled with various herbs. Others with mummified body parts, Ronnie noticed with a wrinkle of her nose. There were pieces of metal, twisted and sculpted and broken, collecting dust. Tattered books and other objects of unknown origin sat behind cases of glass, as if they were something valuable in a shack full of garbage.

Lorna set the box on the counter. “We’re just here to exchange, is all.”

“Oh, I see.” Fence grabbed the box, the tips of his fingers brushing over Lorna’s. She yanked her hands back. “Where is Mr. Sahira?”

“He can’t come today. We’re here in his place,” Lorna’s voice was clipped and even. Determined not to give Fence even the slightest indication that she was here for anything more, though Ronnie was sure he didn’t care. The choking scent of arousal pouring off the slimy man nearly gagged her.

Fence opened the lid of the box and rummaged inside before clicking his tongue, “Is this really all you have? Thieving has been a little slow lately, hm?”

Ronnie snapped her head to look at him. “Are you going to take it or not?”

Fence leaned forward over the box, propping his head on one of his hands and gazing up at her. “I like my ladies feisty. Pity shifters aren’t my taste. Too many teeth.” His smile gleamed like an invitation to try and change his mind. When Ronnie didn’t respond, he turned his gaze to Lorna. “I get the feeling that she’s being territorial. I can certainly imagine the two of you togeth-“

Ronnie stepped in front of Lorna and brought her hands down on the counter, claws leaving deep grooves in the old wood. “The. Box.” Her words were forced out between fangs that were begging her to sink them into the pulsing artery in his neck.

Fence didn’t seem fazed. He plucked the box up from the counter with quick fingers. “Let me weigh what you’ve got.”

The moment he disappeared behind the curtain, Lorna let out a breath. “Now I get why Malik is always the one who comes.”

“I just want to rip that grin off his face,” Ronnie growled. “Hell, I’ll just take his whole face.”

Lorna pressed her lips to the Ronnie’s cheek. “Try to control yourself. He’s a disgusting sack of slime, but he is paying us. We won’t be here much longer.”

Ronnie grumbled, which Lorna took as agreement. She wandered off to browse the shelves, poking at the jars and wrinkling her nose at them. Where did Fence even come across some of this stuff? Ronnie stayed at the counter, tapping a clawed finger against the wood top. She dropped her gaze to the glass front and trailed her eyes over the more valuable merchandise, if it could be called that, which Fence kept under lock and key.

A rusted dagger that looked ready to dissolve, a gold necklace that was already losing flecks of shiny paint, a demon claw that was unbearably fake, a silver coin that was probably just melted scrap, a not so rare flower-

Wait.

Ronnie’s eyes darted back to the coin. She knelt down in front of the case to get a closer look. The stamped P was unmistakable. She fumbled in her pocket for the coin she’d found yesterday and held it up. They matched.

“Lorna,” she called over her shoulder. “Come look at this.”

Lorna appeared at her side, kneeling down beside her. From her wide-eyed stare, Ronnie knew she recognized Purity’s mark. “Where did you get that, Ronnie? And why would Fence sell something like that?”

“I’m more interested in where he got it.”

The curtain opened again and Fence came out, the box in one hand and a small bag that clinked in the other. He set them on the counter and grinned down at Ronnie and Lorna.

“There isn’t a lovelier sight than a pretty girl on her knees.”

Ronnie’s lip curled at his words. She could almost feel them settling on her skin and dirtying her. “Where’d you get this?” She tapped a claw on the glass.

“Oh, you want that necklace? I might be able to work out an exchange for you-“

“The coin, you fool.”

The smile dropped from his face. “I’m afraid it isn’t for sale.”

Ronnie stood up. “I’m not interested in buying it. I want to know where you got it.”

The front door creaked open. “From the darkness. A terrible history.” The woman from outside stumbled across the threshold. A trickle of blood, tinged red and black, trailed down her face from her hairline. She held a dripping clump of hair in her hand.

“Delira. Outside,” Fence snapped at the woman but she ignored him.

She pointed her filthy hand at Ronnie and Lorna and hissed, “Blood traitors walking in the sun.” Black veins spread up her arms like her blood was made of ink. The tips of her fingers darkened and oozed black sludge. Tainted magic.

The sludge hit the floor and sizzled, burning through the wood. Ronnie yanked Lorna to her feet and pushed her back. “Get the blood.”

Lorna snatched the case of blood off the counter. Words spilled from the woman’s lips with a speed that Ronnie had a hard time following. A spell buried beneath insane ramblings.

“They will come and when they do they will walk the streets as phantoms familiar faces walls will crumble under the weight of broken crowns while we kill for the essence of everything.”

“What?” Lorna stammered, inching for the open door.

“Just go,” Ronnie told her without taking her eyes from the woman.

Fence came around the counter. He tossed the box at Ronnie, coins jingling inside, and wrapped his fingers around the woman’s outstretched arm, forcing it to her side.

“Get out of here, shifter. And don’t come back. Any of you.”

The woman shrieked at him, the shrill sound whipping through the small shop like a windstorm. The glass jars cracked and vibrated on the shelves. Fence shouted at her again and Ronnie wasted no time in following Lorna outside.

Lorna braced herself against a tree across the street. She trembled under Ronnie’s hand when she touched her shoulder.

“I-I can’t…I don’t ever want to end up like her.” Lorna’s said thickly through sharp inhales. She smashed her fist against the tree in a flare of white light. “It isn’t fair! This is my magic! Either I go crazy like her or I die young.”

Ronnie tried to comfort her. “You don’t have to do either.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Lorna turned on her. Her green eyes blurred through unshed tears and she wiped at her eyes. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “You should. You know what it’s like to have power you can’t use. I have this,” Lorna held up her hands, glowing white and bright, “and I can’t use it. It’s me and I can’t have me.” She dropped her hands and the magic faded. “It isn’t fair,” she finished quietly.

Ronnie thought about the beast under her skin. Her birthright. The other half that was there but wasn’t. Like she could reach out to it, fingertips dancing and almost there, but always too far away to touch.

“I get it,” she said. “I get it.” She picked up the case of blood from Lorna’s feet. “Let’s go home. Dalton and the twins are probably starving.”