Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,1
hoisted my pack again. “I’m trying to get to my friend’s house.”
The man had frozen midway through rolling what appeared to be a thin length of foam. He continued the task, licking his lips again.
I eyed the cuts on his shaved head and the layer of grime on his visible skin. Despite the warning vibes he gave me, my heart sank, and I renewed the energy behind my purpose in being here.
The system was faulted. It rewarded a select few and punished everyone else. Why was this man homeless? Why wasn’t anyone helping him?
He rested the mat against the cracked cement of the closest building. “Where does your friend live?”
His question wrenched me to a halt. Shoot. Where did Tommy live? I’d been there countless times—though she tended to come to mine, with her father being the estate’s stablemaster and all.
“Uh...” I glanced around.
My eyes caught on the grey roof of the shop on the other side of the street. Of course. I must be more tired than I thought.
“She lives in Orange,” I declared proudly.
He licked his lips and cast me a doubtful look. “You’re from Orange?”
Licky Lips judging my friend’s lack of wealth seemed a tad hypocritical.
“Orange,” I repeated, forcing my hands, already creeping up to rest on my hips, to remain by my sides. Hands on hips and foot-stomping were snobby habits I was trying to kick. Poor people didn’t do that kind of thing.
He straightened, illustrating just how tall he was. And his eyes. The bloodshot part made sense. He’d just woken. But the wide part was slightly disconcerting. People were meant to blink a certain amount of times per minute, right?
And the licking lips thing…
“Seriously, dude. Collect rainwater or something.” I joked, my grip on the bag straps tightening.
Licky Lips frowned. “What?”
“Uh, nothing,” I mumbled, edging away. “That’s okay if you don’t know where Orange is. Just thought I’d ask. Thanks for your help.”
“I haven’t helped you yet.”
Well... if he planned on doing so, there was no time like the present. I forced a smile. “I’d appreciate if you could point me in the right direction.”
The man shoved his hands in his hoodie and hunched. He jerked his head to the right. “Walk that way.”
I glanced at the wall. “I need to head right?”
A nod was my answer. “Yeah, then straight. That’ll get you to Red.”
A silent sigh escaped my lips. From Red, finding Orange would be easy enough. The suburbs of the city circled in a colour gradient, all except Grey—the central business district—which was smack bang in the middle.
“Thank you,” I told him, allowing some of my genuine worry to seep into the words.
He peeked up. “You’re not the first to ask for help. We get a lot of rebelling rich brats here.”
Unnecessarily harsh. I tossed my hair. “Is that so?”
Licky Lips stood tall again. Whether he meant the gesture as a subtle reminder of who would win in a fight between us or not, I took it that way and my muscles coiled in readiness to run.
The man didn’t advance, and I relaxed after a few seconds.
He’d labelled me as a rich brat with a single look, but I wasn’t like the other runaways he came across.
Swinging my bag off, I flipped the top back and reached into a small zip pocket. Riffling through the notes, I drew out a one-hundred-dollar bill.
“Here. Have this. For your help.” I smiled encouragingly at him.
The money was gone from my fingers in a flash.
Phew. Pretty quick when he wanted to be. Entering this alley wasn’t my best idea.
He inspected the note as though I might have handed over Monopoly cash. “The last one gave me five hundred.”
The last one!
My jaw dropped. “The last rich brat gave you money too?”
Licky Lips shrugged a shoulder. “They all do. Usually on an I feel trapped bender.”
... I feel trapped bender.
I swung my pack on again and pressed the heels of both palms into my eyes. This guy’s manners were atrocious. Then again, they weren’t. Even if the comments he offered weren’t particularly tactful.
I didn’t need his approval.
And I didn’t need the approval of my wealthy friends and their parents.
Even my grandmother’s approval came second to me living in the way I saw fit.
“Thanks,” I said shortly, backing away before spinning on my heel.
“Got any drugs?” the man asked.
I quickened my step, laughing nervously. “No, not my scene. Good luck with… that.”
The urge to look over my shoulder heightened and I shoved back the instinct. When I reached the