Page 102 of Ramshackle
A slow smile curls my lips, and a full-blown shudder rocks through him.
I probably shouldn’t enjoy that reaction as much as I do.
“Call York. Let him know Kellan’s brother is here so he can inform your coworkers. I’d hate to be forced to kill anyone over a misunderstanding.”
I drop my hand from his mouth, but keep my knife secure where it is. No need for him to think he has any other option.
The man reaches slowly for the microphone dangling in front of his chest. “What’s your name?”
I don’t answer him.
He brings the microphone to his face, and the pinhole red light switches to green. “York. York!” He raises his voice the second time when he doesn’t get an immediate response.
“What’s the matter? We’re in the middle of a match, Gregor!” York’s voice crackles from the earpiece.
“There’s a guy here. He said to let you know he’s here so you can tell everyone else.”
“A guy? Is this some kind of joke? I don’t have time—”
“He said he’s Kellan’s brother,” he cuts him off. I’m sure that information means nothing to Gregor. As far as the people here, other than York, Kellan goes by Dragon. They wouldn’t know a Kellan. “He’s wearing all black and is freaky as fuck, York.”
That last part makes me chuckle, and Gregor startles at the sound like he thinks I’ll attack him for saying it.
York curses on the other end. “Yes. Let him in. Just stay out of his way. I’ll let the others know.”
I draw my hand back, flipping the blade and grabbing it again. Gregor rushes to open the door, and I offer him another smile. “Thanks, Gregor.”
His face pales when he realizes I now know his name, but I save him the heart attack and step inside to relieve him of my presence, pulling my gaiter back over my mouth and nose. The back hallway is primarily filled with storage rooms and back offices for the bar, but one door leads to the basement, where I’m confident Thorne is now.
Gregor slowed me down from following him but it was a necessary step to ensure the rest of my time here would be unbothered. The guard posted at the door for the Pits spots me and hurries to open the door without a word. When I look at him, his eyes drop to avoid mine.
I move quickly down the stairs. The last thing I’d need is Thorne leaving as I’m arriving and having us bump into one another. Once I’m at the bottom, I slip into the crowd. Justanother head, another body here for the show. The mass of people makes it easier for me to hide, but it also gives Thorne the same advantage.
Looking up, I observe heavy lighting and catwalks hanging from the ceiling.
Always take the higher vantage point whenever possible.
I move to the back corner of the room, away from the cage that has captured everyone’s attention, and then use my gift to rise onto the nearest catwalk. The metal walkway is painted black to blend in with the ceiling, just like the hardware attached to the massive lights, which means my attire helps me to do the same. I’m invisible up here, and now I have a view of the entire room.
It only takes a few seconds for me to spot Thorne.
His smell no longer helps me when he’s indoors because it gets lost among the others, but he’s the only one wearing a trench coat with greased back hair. He’s talking to two people at one of the raised bar tables to one side.
I move across the room until I’m on the catwalk directly above them. The din from the fight and cheering below covers any noise I would make, but I use my gift to contain it regardless.
Crouching down, I concentrate on drawing the sound of their voices through the air to me.
“—my son. He has black hair and blue eyes. Usually wears all black. Last I heard, he was staying at a place called the Guild. Do you know where that is?”
I’m not interested in the fact that he’s been calling me his son while looking for me. It means nothing. Either he’s a shitty parent who abandoned me to the foster care system, or he’s lying to garner sympathy to get what he wants.
If I had to bet on one, it would be the latter.
“Sorry, I don't,” one of the patrons at the table replies.
The second one shakes his head. “Never heard of it.”
“Ah, well. Please call me if you hear anything. I’m offering a hefty reward to anyone who helps me find him.” Thorne slides a business card to the center of the table. Both patrons agree vehemently that they’ll be sure to call if they see or hear anything now that there’s a reward on the table.
