Kid Wolf and Kraken Boy by Sam J. Miller

Author:Sam J. Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Solais

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

KRAKEN BOY

I was a different person, then. That’s all I can say. The world was different. Darker, more cruel. In the days before property was abolished, everyone was trying to kill everyone else to take what was theirs.

The world was uglier, and so was I.

I should have turned Fey in immediately. I know that now. Taken Hinky aside, told her my suspicions. Let her handle it.

If I had, everything would have been different.

I told myself: I couldn’t be sure. All I had was suspicion, and the fact that Fey was gathering dangerous intel. But Hinky had a massive operation, and I only saw the tip of the iceberg. Moles and spies and infiltrators were assuredly all around her. If my suspicions were unfounded, and they got Fey killed, then that would be on me.

When I was done working on the (utterly delightful) sweatshop women, I made up my mind to invite Kid Wolf over to my place when he was finished. But the minutes became hours, and still he trained. Bobbed, weaved, jumped rope, pummeled the heavy bag that Jack Dempsey used to work on. Pretty soon I was nodding off, and said goodnight to him and headed home.

What can compare to the delirious freedom of a cool summer night in New York City? I carried nothing with me. Back in my waterfront days, I’d had to take my whole heavy kit and flash pack with me to and from work every day, because the lock on the stall door wouldn’t have stopped a Bowery bum looking to get out of the rain, let alone a hooligan looking for something to steal.

I had a safe space to do work I loved, for incredibly good money. I had a place of my own, thanks to that good money. The wind was coming off the Hudson and it smelled faintly of the sea, one of those rare moments when the breeze parts the curtains of the city stench and reminds you that this concrete jungle is a tiny island at the mercy of great water.

So why did I still feel so low? Me and Kid had something—something important, I felt it, I knew it. But how could there be room for me in his life, when fighting consumed so many of his waking hours? His drive, his obsession—they were a huge part of why I adored him. His fire was hypnotic, magnetic, glorious. But I knew it must burn out all other concerns in his life. Faced with a choice between mortal needs and his immortal passion, he’d choose the passion every time.

Also my best friend might be gunning to get himself killed.

I walked the whole way.

East Ninth Street was less than a mile from the Orchard Street block where I’d been born and raised: a straight shot up First Avenue, but an entire world away. Here the buildings were smaller, cleaner, the apartments large and modern and each with its own bathroom. And even this relative luxury was cheap to me.

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