Black City by Elizabeth Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

Sentry guard have that sort of access. If you want to get over the wall, you have to climb it and just pray you don’t get caught.
    I think about the scarecrows hanging on the wall and shudder. I could’ve been hanging up there with them if the Sentry girl, Natalie, had told on me last night . . . My chest cramps, the sudden pain making me inhale sharply.
    “You all right?” Beetle asks.
    “Heartburn,” I say, unable to think of another explanation.
    “I didn’t realize you got that. What with your heart not working . . .” He trails off when he sees my expression. “Must be that cheap Synth-O-Blood the Sentry’s trying to pass off as food. The fascists probably engineered it that way.”
    “I don’t think heartburn’s at the top of their Agenda of Evil.”
    “I wouldn’t put it past them. Phase One of their diabolical plans for world domination. When was the last time you had any real blood?”
    “I had a drop last night from that Hazer girl, but I spat most of that up. Otherwise, it’s been a while.” You can only buy human blood from the black market traders in Chantilly Lane, but I don’t have that sort of money to splash about. “Why? You offering?”
    Beetle chuckles. “Only if you buy me dinner first.”
    There’s a sharp whip against my leg.
    “Ouch, mother—”
    I turn to see Gregory Thompson, the head Prefect, sneering up at me, cane in hand. The Prefects are a group of students who have the authority to discipline the rest of us. He’s short for his age, barely reaching my chest, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in arrogance. He flicks his lank hair out of his watery, deep-set eyes.
    “Why aren’t you wearing your beret, nipper?” he says in a nasally voice.
    I take the crumpled scarlet beret out of my pocket and put it on. It immediately falls off. Hats and Darklings really don’t mix. My hair’s alive, always moving, searching the air around me for traces of blood. There’s blood everywhere, if you’re looking for it. A shaving cut on a girl’s leg, a grazed knee, a split lip. It’s overwhelming here.
    Behind Gregory is his fraternal twin brother, Chris, who follows Gregory everywhere like a shadow . . . a very tall, sickeningly attractive shadow. When it comes to genes, Chris certainly got the lion’s share. Gregory is small, mean and aloof, while Chris is athletic and approachable and always has a smile on his face—but that’s probably because he’s high as a kite most of the time. He’s one of my best clients. The only similarity between Gregory and Chris is the bright hazel color of their eyes.
    Chris languidly picks up my beret, passing it to me.
    “Thanks,” I mutter.
    Chris gives me a nonchalant nod, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
    Gregory eyes me angrily.
    “What’s your problem?” I ask.
    “ You’re my problem, nipper.” He jabs at me with his cane, and I grab it, pulling him toward me.
    “Back off. You’re not a Tracker yet.” I snap the cane in half with a flick of my hand.
    Gregory whips me across the face with the remaining half. “That just earned you a detention after school, mongrel.”
    My cheek stings where he hit me, but I refuse to let my pain show.
    “Leave him alone, Greg,” Chris sighs.
    “They should never have allowed you to come here,” Gregory says, ignoring his brother. “Things were better before they agreed to let your sort into our schools.”
    Before the war ended, I had to be homeschooled by Dad. Those were the days.
    “Well, tough,” Beetle interrupts. “Ash is a citizen, the same as you and me, so he’s got to come to this stupid place like the rest of us. It’s the law. ”
    “Not for long. When Rose’s Law passes, the first thing they’ll do is make sure half-breeds like him in every city are sent to the ghettos with the rest of the nippers, where they belong,” Gregory says, stomping off.
    Chris rolls his eyes at me, mouthing “sorry” as he passes.
    I touch my stinging cheek and