Outfoxed (The Fox Witch #1) - R.J. Blain Page 0,37
me you would be late. How’s your neighborhood?”
“I’ve got a cellar.” I figured even if one of the bounty hunters talked to my boss, they wouldn’t have a hope in hell of figuring out which cellar belonged to me. “A lot died in my neighborhood,” I confessed. “There wasn’t much left in the morning, and it’s a good thing I was in the cellar, or I’d be like them, too.”
Probably. I didn’t want to think about what it must have been like to be outside when Mother Nature’s fury wiped out so many lives in such a short period of time. All I could do was harbor the hope Carl hadn’t suffered long before his death.
“Same with most. They think the entire outskirts on our side got wiped out with some stragglers here and there. What have you heard?”
“Heard? Nothing. Seen? We gave up on our pyre after we piled more than a hundred bodies on it.”
“Any friends?”
I nodded, as I wouldn’t dishonor Carl despite not having a chance to find out if we would’ve become actual friends. “My landlord died, too, and the cops did the papers.”
“That’s the worst luck, ain’t it? You lose, but you win, too. Still, a damned shame it has to go that way.”
It sure was. “I guess so, but the cops were identifying bodies, and I knew who he was. I set up the pyre for him, but the other survivors helped with it.”
“I bet it took longer to do the papers than to start the fire.”
Sometimes, I forgot my boss had lit more than his fair share of pyres, too. “About the same time. It was a pretty big pyre.”
“That’s the story going around this morning. Before you go on shift, there’s a few things you need to know, because it’s important.”
“How important?”
“Life or death at this point.”
Shit. “What happened?”
Brent heaved a sigh and went to work helping the kitchen hands prepare drinks and food for the patrons who’d line our pockets with cash in what they perceived as a safe place. I knew better. Mother Nature would show up. When? That I didn’t know. I washed my hands, put on an apron, contained my hair in a tail, and covered my ears with a bandana to keep extra unwanted attention off me. By the end of my shift, my entire head would hurt, but it beat the trouble being a hybrid would bring when people created trouble after a rough night.
We worked in silence for a few minutes, sending several of the waitresses out with full trays before he said, “The mayor has issued a few decrees, and they’re bad ones. First, all future-attuned scryers are to report for mandatory duty. I don’t know if you’re registered as anything, but they mean business this time.”
“I’m not registered.” I gestured to my covered ears. “Anymore than this, that is.”
“I figured. You hybrids typically dodge registration. Nobody believes you can be more than one thing. Foolish, if you ask me. If you do have any tricks up your sleeve, keep them there, and don’t you go letting anyone know differently. The mayor is offering bounties for tips on any scryers they might have missed or who are trying to skip their duty. Word on the grape vine has it all scryers will be included in the next batch, not just those who can see into the future.”
“That’s got to have upset people.”
“And that’s only the start of it. It gets worse. Asylum isn’t developed enough to handle the entire population of Tulsa, people are scared, and to keep people from panicking, five hundred people will be welcomed into Asylum along with their families. It won’t be great housing, but it’s the capacity it can handle right now. You should apply. Pretty foxes are in demand, and you’d be a shoo-in with your coloration and youth. I don’t know how you’ll manage down there, but it’s better than fending on your own. I’m going to be applying, and I’ll try to bring as many of my staff as possible, but it’s a long shot.”
Everything in Tulsa was a long shot, but I wouldn’t burst Brent’s bubble, not in the face of so much destruction. In reality, I would continue to test my luck and turn my cellar into my personal paradise, sneaking into Asylum when my supplies ran dry—or scavenging through the wreckage to earn money. Hell, testing my luck with Sandro appealed more than becoming the plaything for some rich bastard in Asylum.