Chapter 3 #2
The door burst open, and Lark swept in with a rush of perfume and night air. The hem of her dress flirted dangerously high when she moved. The neckline didn’t leave much to the imagination either.
She froze mid-step when she noticed Alto watching.
Her posture shifted instantly. Shoulders back, her gaze dipped toward the floor as her voice climbed an octave.
“Hey, Mr. Harkithen. I hope you had a good Friday.” Her toes pointed to the ground, and a rosey blush rose from her neck. I dragged a hand down my face. I would be embarrassed too if Alto saw me like that. He was like an old man trapped in the body of a thirty-five-year-old.
Alto chuckled, patting my shoulder as he moved over to where Yendor was putting the tools in the wrong drawers. “Go have fun. Be smart.” His eyes flicked to Lark, who was already trying to hide the excited bound of her feet. “And keep her out of trouble.”
I nodded. “I’ll be back before midnight. Got builds to finish.” And Yendor’s mess to clean up. But I didn't say that last part.
A crash exploded when the tool box fell to the ground, tools spreading out across the concrete floor, and I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I’m fine!” Yendor’s voice followed, thinner than before.
When I chanced looking up, Alto had also pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. It made my heart twinge a little.
“I’ll take care of that. Go have fun before he burns the building down.
” He turned away and began to yell. “And you! Get up. Go to the office where all you can do to yourself is give yourself a paper cut!” Yendor scrambled up, glaring at me like it was my fault, and flew though the door to the office.
Alto was proof that you could build an empire on reputation and skill, yet still end up with a grandson who tripped over a rolling chair.
He followed Yendor in, and the office door shut behind him.
Lark closed the distance between us in three quick steps. Under the shop lights, her golden hair caught and scattered the brightness around her head. When she grinned, her hazel eyes flashed greener, brighter.
She always moved as if the world were inviting her forward. She knew the dangers but refused to let them shape her. I was both her gift and her curse.
Next to her, I felt like an uncut gem, dull and dark. Black hair tipped red. Ripped jeans. Fitted black shirt with sheer sleeves. Roses inked down my right arm, their thorns winding between petals in warning.
Lark was bubbly, where I was skeptical. She was excited whereas I was cautious.
She was always the life of the party, and I was the one looking after her to make sure she didn't get into too much trouble.
She also had a special knack for attracting the wrong sort of men, and I was the friend that avoided the opposite sex like the plague.
If they were humans who ended up in this district, they didn't want another human like me.
They just wanted something magical and dangerous for the night.
If they were supes, they always treated me like a second-class citizen or tried to get me to sign some kind of exclusive contract for my life essence, pieces of my soul, or my blood.
Alto’s first rule: never sign anything, and I never did.
Lark squeezed my arm. “Nathan’s waiting at the entrance.” Her gaze dropped to my blue mechanic’s jumpsuit. Her nose wrinkled. “You’re changing, right?”
I sighed and tugged the zipper down.
The jumpsuit fell open to reveal my jeans and black top underneath. The boots stayed.
Peeling off the uniform, I tossed it onto the workbench before spinning around, arms out. “Well? Is this okay to grace your presence?”
She laughed and grabbed my hand. “You look hot. It’s the resting bitch face that turns men away.”
I snagged my keys from the pegboard then slid my ID and folded cash into my back pocket with a shrug. I didn't mind if they left me alone.
She tugged me toward the backdoor, already half outside.
“You know that’s the point,” I told her, locking up behind us as the shop lights dimmed and the hum of cooling engines faded into the night. “Where we going tonight? Monarch? Fangtasia?” Both clubs were human friendly, and the bouncers would enforce human safety.
Her smile shined brightly as she said, “Nope!” She booped my nose, sliding around me as she sang out, “We're going to the Track to watch a race.”
My eyes doubled just as my mouth fell open.
The Track? In the deep crevices of my heart, I'd always wanted to go. Hell, I’d even thought about trying to sneak in just to look at the type of machines the uber rich had.
Then I remembered that it was a supe-only location, and messing with the wrong supe could get you dead.
“Lark, I don't think we shou—”
Her hand slapped over my mouth.
“Via,” she groaned, her voice dropping into a plea. “Please. Just enjoy tonight. I got everything taken care of. Nathan’s going to be with us, so calm down.”
I pulled her hand away and gave her a flat look.
Enjoy? At an underground track event crawling with rich purebred supes? Beings who could break both my legs for just standing too close to them?
Sure. That sounded real smart.
My bottom lip caught between my teeth as the voice I usually tried to ignore whispered again, But how often does an opportunity like this come along?
I knew the answer. Never.
“Come on, Via.” She held open the door to the cab, gesturing for me to go in.
Familiar thoughts circled my brain. It's too dangerous. Alto needs me. I don't have time to play around with nepo supes. Everything I see tonight I can see on the computer.
I dropped my gaze to my hands, my thumb slowly dragging over my fingertips. A faint phantom buzz clung to them—the leftover residue of magic from the parts I’d just installed.
What if I could watch mages work on cars in real-time instead of piecing it together through videos or taking Alto’s word for it?
The thought coiled in my chest, quiet at first, then sharper. Curiosity stretched its claws, the need to know swelling until it began to crowd out the fear.
“This is your birthday gift from me!” Lark blurted.
Her gaze dropped, and her bottom lip pushed out in that pathetic little pout.
Damn it. Not the fucking lip.
“I worked so hard… trying to figure out the perfect gift…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I cursed, dragging a hand through my hair. “My birthday isn’t even until next week—”
The rest of the sentence died as I ducked into the cab in a huff.
It took exactly one second for her expression to flip. The pout vanished, replaced by the grin of a satisfied jackal. She bounced in beside me, rattled off the address to the driver, then grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“You’re going to love it,” she whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “I just know it.”
All I knew was that by the time we left, I’d better still have both arms and both legs attached.