A sleety mix pelted me as winter refused to relinquish its grip to spring, and I pulled my coat closer around me. I dodged the worst of the mud puddles as I made my way down the abandoned main drag of the Ruined City.

It was a quiet morning and the locals were lying low, moving to the farthest outskirts, afraid they’d be pulled into the next war if they were seen by the strongest Wyrd Blood. The current rulers regularly searched for more bodies to fight their wars. As if we needed any more wars.

Reilly’s warning had only made the suspicion churning in my gut turn into a boulder, but clearly I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Trouble was brewing again, as it so often did. More fighting, more destruction, more death.

The remnants of what had once probably been works of architectural beauty, the scars of those very wars, loomed on either side. Like a beautiful woman, the bone structure was still there even as the exterior weathered. Every year taking its price. And just like the beautiful woman who would eventually be laid to rest, these buildings would be nothing but mounds of debris. Future generations wouldn’t even know what beauty had once existed.

It was for the best. No one would know the heritage they’d lost. Everyone would dream of the future, thinking the best was on the horizon and not know it lay crumbled in the shadows of the past.

It was only another handful of ruins before the crowning jewel of the city stood before me. This building, far from its prime, had fared better than the others. I wondered if the mason who had laid this brick were alive, would he feel any pride in his creation weathering the downfall of humanity?

A girl who appeared close to my age, maybe just nearing twenty or so, leaned in the threshold, marring the one good thing left in this city. She slumped as if she didn’t have the energy to hold up her thin frame. Dark shadows haunted her face and a dope stick hung from her lips. Her lids at half-mast made it obvious it wasn’t her first chew of the day, maybe not even her second.

I wasn’t a fan of them, as so many others were, but I didn’t dare judge. When your grumbling stomach turned to cramping and you couldn’t feel your toes through the numb, it was understandable how so many people took whatever relief they could get.

I stepped up to the door, focusing more on the chipping cement behind her head so I wouldn't have to see the depths of despair that loomed in empty eyes. “Loretta in?”

The nod toward inside seemed to cost her undue effort. I squeezed by, careful not to come in contact with her. It was said that people on the stick could spread their bleakness to you with just a touch. It was probably why Loretta often had one in her entrances.

I walked past a room on my right, nodding briefly to two of Loretta’s crew. There was a nod in return as they paused their private conversation. They were part of Loretta’s collection crew. From the looks on their faces, I’d hate to be the person who had taken a loan and not paid up today. I hurried past, not wanting to hear the name of the poor sap they’d be going for later on today any more than they wanted me to hear it.

I made my way up the stairs, skipping over the third step and then the eighth, both of which hadn’t been repaired on purpose to deter uninvited guests.

Unlike the ravaged first floor, the second floor had the look of life about it, with a rug that still retained some of its red, and even had a few stray strings adorning the ends. I walked over it toward the room that Loretta used as her office, all while wondering what that rug had cost someone.

Loretta, the only other person who knew I was Wyrd Blood, because she was one herself. There was a saying that blood always knew blood, and it was true. I could feel her magic as soon as I walked into the room, and I knew she felt mine.

That was the worst part of being Wyrd Blood. You recognized your kind instantly, but so did they. With most of the magical I’d run into, there’d been an unspoken agreement. I didn’t call attention to their magic and they returned the favor. Only a fool would overlook the fact that if you turned someone in for a quick coin, they could turn around and point the finger right back at you.

Then there were the meetings that went badly, where the magic didn’t get along, even when there was no animosity between the two Wyrd Bloods. I’d had a few of those run-ins and didn’t like to think of them, or how they’d ended.

Point was, if you were Wyrd Blood and in the Ruined City, you didn’t want to be found—by anybody.

Not that the Ruined City was safe. Every now and then, some lord would remember there were people here and send out one of our own to see if they could turn up a Wyrd Blood. Usually I knew when they were coming because of the lookouts stationed along the roads that charged the smaller crews for information. But even with a heads-up, if you had the curse of magic in your blood, nowhere was truly safe.

Except if you were Loretta.

She sat behind her table, thick black hair piled high. Dark almond eyes that read you as soon as they landed on you. If you were willing to part with a coin or had something to trade, she might even tell you what she saw.

Even if I had coin, I wasn’t willing. I knew what my future held. I’d die in the Ruined City and I’d be happy for it.

Everyone in the area knew Loretta had worked out some sort of deal with the lords and ladies who ruled. It was obvious how they always stopped by this place, and yet she always remained. Nothing was ever carried out or smashed. None of her people ever dragged away to fight a war.

Maybe it was her rare gift of sight that kept her safe. The details could only be guessed at, and I was fine with not knowing. Sticking your nose in other people’s business was the quickest way to get your head lopped off, and most people didn’t live too long to begin with. Knowledge could be a two-ton stone tied to your ankle in the ocean.

She waved a hand over her table. “Let’s see what you have.”

I turned my sack over and let all the things I’d managed to gather along the border of the ruined forest land in a heap on the table in front of Loretta. I used to try and pull out each item separately, one after another, laying them in front of her as if each were priceless. It never fooled her.

The only reason they were worth anything at all was most people around here wouldn’t even get that close to the Ruined Forest. If they did, they wouldn’t be able to sense what was magical. But I could sense the items and had a hungry crew.

Her hands skimmed the items. I’d known she was going to find them lacking before I saw her expression. I’d brought her Grittung feathers last week, and I knew their uses were limited to healing minor scrapes and wounds. The bones of Rotty were only useful if you wanted to put someone to sleep for days.

She picked up one of the bones, held it, and then let it drop to the table. “I already have these in abundance. You know that. You brought me most of them.” She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her generous chest, and waited for me to speak, as if I owed her an explanation.

“They’re still worth something.” She knew it wasn’t that easy to find these things. The edges of the Ruined Forest were limited. The truly scary beasts resided deep in the heart of the forest where no one wanted to go, not even the lords and certainly not me. The Ruined Forest had been at the heart of the Magical War of 810. All that magic flying around had done crazy things to the forest and all the things living in it.

“So are the piles I already have that’ll take me years to use up.” She shrugged while she shook her head before she leaned forward. We both knew what was coming next. “Life would be much easier for you if you came to work for me.”

Death by starvation would be preferable to being part of her crew, but I couldn’t afford to make her an enemy. “Other than bringing you items that you don’t need, I’m not sure what good I would do for you.” She smiled. “I bet you could do plenty. Remember, just as you feel it in me, I feel it flowing within you.”

I nodded, hoping that after she was done, she’d offer me something for what I’d brought her as she had every other time she’d complained in the past. She didn’t. It was amazing how long twenty seconds of silence could be in the wrong moments.

“I’ll try to get you something better soon.” I opened my sack and swept all the items off the table, testing her bluff.

She didn’t budge from her spot. I threw the sack over my shoulder, preparing to leave. Went as far as walking out the door before I realized I’d been the only one bluffing in the room.

I stopped in the hallway, not wanting to get too far too quickly in case she called me back in. I got to the top of the stairs and paused. There was no call.

The feeling of the wrapped claw pressed into my skin where I had tucked it in my waistband. I’d found it a few days ago and had kept it hidden, even from my crew. This was something I knew Loretta would want. But if I gave it to her, she’d know just how much magic I was hiding.

That was the catch with feeling magic. You could only feel as much as you had yourself, whether the magic came from another Wyrd Blood or a magical object. If I admitted to having this, she’d know how much I had. I couldn’t pretend anymore. This was a conscious choice to show my hand. And any Wyrd Blood who wanted to stay free knew that you hid your magic as much as possible.

It had been a risk walking in here with the claw on me, but she hadn’t sensed it. Now, I either turned back and handed it to her, or I walked home with nothing, to five hungry sets of eyes. They hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. If I didn’t take the risk, somebody was going to get sick soon. I’d seen it happen before. You went too long without a solid meal and the cold and wet found its way into your bones. I’d already heard Marra coughing. I knew what would come next. I’d watched it play out to its bitter end before.

My crew needed to eat. If it kept us alive, I had to gamble. I turned around and walked back in.

Loretta lifted her head. “I thought we were finished?”

I reached into my shirt and withdrew the dragon claw, knowing she’d been around enough to recognize it, even if she couldn’t feel it. There was no faking a dragon claw, with its black glass appearance. It was said that if you filed the claw into a dust, mixed it with wine, and drank it, you could breathe fire for a week. It wasn’t something I could use, but with Loretta’s connections, she could surely sell it for a pretty coin.

I didn’t care who she sold it to as long as I was paid and those people didn’t come looking for the person who’d found it. That was the biggest risk here. Would it be worth it to her to sell me out for the price she’d get, or would she keep quiet, hoping to get more like this?

Loretta’s eyes narrowed and then shot to my face. I’d never seen her speechless before.

“I know what it’s worth. I want a full jar of hollyhoney.” It was a bargain for her and salvation for me. Hollyhoney didn’t taste anything like bee honey, but a couple of spoons could get you by for a day—if you could hold it down, anyways.

Loretta didn’t argue. She stood and turned, walking over to a door behind her and pulling back the cloth that covered it. I leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse as the fabric fluttered. What I wouldn’t do to get in that room for a few minutes alone, but I wouldn’t risk stealing from Loretta.

Since I’d known her, only one person had dared, a kid named Tweed who’d wandered into the area, shortly after I’d arrived myself. He’d been the lazy sort, always looking for handouts. None of the crews would take him in, seeing him as dead weight.

Then, one night, there were screams so loud that everyone in the city heard them. I’d made a move to go look and see what was happening when Ruck laid a hand on my shoulder. His face somber in the moonlight, he shook his head before retuning back to his sleep spot.

The message was clear. That was when I’d learned what survival really cost. Standing back and letting others die so that you and your crew made it another day. I often wondered if I’d sold another chunk of my soul that night.

No one ever saw Tweed again, but there were rumors he’d tried to steal from Loretta.

Loretta walked back in the room with a jar of hollyhoney in her hand. I placed the dragon’s claw on the table.

She held the jar out to me. The memory of Tweed reminded me of whose hand was feeding me.

I took the jar with a nod, my fingers grazing hers as I did. Her other hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, her eyes going unfocused. This had happened before, so I knew it was her gift of sight. Unfortunately, I never liked what she saw, and I doubted this time would prove different. I hated when she did this. I knew sight was one of her gifts, but it freaked me out on a very basic level. No one should know what tomorrow held.

Her eyes were still off, seeing some distance place. “You’re ill.”

I froze. I’d expected her to tell me something about tomorrow, not today.

Her eyes focused again as she waited for an answer. “No, I’m not.” You didn’t admit to sickness until you were dead, not when the animals around you liked the smell of blood.

She eyed me, and I knew I didn’t look sick, even though she was right and something was wrong.

She didn’t let go of my wrist as she said, “You will be, then.”

“Thanks. I’ll make sure I get my sleep.”

She knew something was off. Between that and the dragon’s claw, she’d be even more likely to sell me out while she could still cash in. I took the jar and put it in my sack, brushing my other hand over the dagger at my hip. I left the room before she picked up on anything else.