had it out for tiny hybrids like me, and to play to her game, I flattened my ears and tucked my tail, the universal sign the woman had put me in my place.
Their eyes lied to them.
Anna Greene wanted to talk to me, and I wondered why. Her note went into my pocket to investigate later, as it would draw attention if I were to react in any other way.
I headed into the bank, danced with the teller about an Asylum-issued check, which resulted in the bank manager confirming how I, a hybrid who lacked the pretty clothes of the typical Asylum residents, might possibly have a pass and a legitimate reason to be paid. The Asylum guards took one look at my pass, checked it activated the magnetic locks onto the Asylum entry, which it did, and suggested the manager give me my money.
The man turned a rather ghastly shade, hurrying back to the bank without a word to me. Sighing over the sheer idiocy of the man, I followed.
Within ten minutes, I left with my cash, enough to get me through the next few weeks.
Not needing to pay the rent helped with that.
To better disguise my activities, I went to one of the last standing libraries left in Tulsa located several blocks away. While Mansfield and his heavy-handed method of managing Asylum annoyed me, I needed to give him credit: he’d moved an entire library and its librarians into the place when he’d opened it for residents. Each time he allowed new residents in, yet another library and its caretakers vanished into the sanctuary.
The way I figured, there would be one librarian per ten residents at the rate he scooped them up, and there’d be more books than anyone knew what to do with. Would my pass give me access to the library down there?
I hoped so. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d read a book.
Few made use of the library, and since the last time I’d been there, most of the books had been removed, leaving a barebones reference section and a few classics on the shelves. The computers still remained, which drew people in. I waited my turn for one, grabbing a random book to pass the time and hide my true purpose.
Anna’s note informed me there was a large bounty out for my living head, and that she wanted me to meet her at an Inner Tulsa bar in the evening. At eleven, the storms would still be rolling through, and only the brave or foolish ventured out. I respected her courage but also worried over her ploy.
Did she have a death wish? I didn’t, but I could ride the storms out in the library before heading over to the bar—and the place served food, too. Harper’s stayed open even during the storms, as the owner liked to believe his thick stone walls would protect him from a bad blow. As usual, I kept my doubt to myself, as it wouldn’t do me any good to complain about somebody else’s choices.
Anna’s plan would protect me, as the other bounty hunters wouldn’t dare to emerge during a storm to collect my bounty. Earning my bounty did them no good if they ended up in the grave because of it.
As my magic tended to have a mind of its own, I hesitated before resting my fingertips on the paper and concentrating on the little I knew about Anna Greene.
My magic deemed the note important enough to give me a hefty dose of unease and worry along with an odd sense the woman was running out of time. The sense of time running out bothered me more than the worry and unease.
Most in Tulsa dealt with an unfortunate amount of worry and unease.
I missed something, something my magic refused to tell me, which served to worry me even more. What I missed would remain a mystery, likely until I had a chance to talk to Anna and find out why she wanted to have a talk with me rather than take me down for the bounty, which would get her an easy ticket out of the Alley.
What the hell was going on, and how had I gotten into the middle of it?
Monday, May 4, 2043.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Alley.
* * *
The storms hit Tulsa at dusk, and rather than take shelter in my cellar or head into Asylum, I hopped between open stores and bars until an hour before my time to meet with Anna. Wet fox fur pleased