Lucky - by Erin Latimer

Blood Never Lies

A new player. Another gambler? Someone who didn’t like Boxcar? How much of our conversation had he overheard?

            I started sliding along the fence again, intent on getting away before he shifted his attention from the still form at his feet to me.

            “Hold on there, girl.”

            I froze as the man stepped into the circle of light cast by the pub entrance. He was tall and lean, dressed in black so he blended with the shadows. His brown hair, messy from the fight, brushed the top of his shirt collar. He had a pistol in one hand, which he held quite casually by the barrel, having just clubbed Boxcar in the side of the head with it.

            He was studying me with calculating blue eyes. “Half fairy, I would say. Maybe less.”

            “Hey, thanks…” I straightened up, wondering if I could stop running now. Or if I would have to launch myself at him and make a grab for the pistol.

            “Don’t thank me.” His blue eyes were regretful now, and it made me back up until my shoulder blades hit the wooden fence.

            There was the sharp staccato of horse hooves on the cobblestones, and the rumble of a carriage being pulled behind it. A black hackney cab turned into the narrow road, heading right for us.

            “I’m sorry,” the man said, and he stepped forward and seized my wrist. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

            What was he, a constable? A bounty hunter? My only chance was to grab for his gun. Grab for it and shoot him in the head and run. It was a shame, because he was actually quite attractive.

            “I’m sorry too.” I whirled around, breaking out of his grip, shoving him backwards so violently that he slammed into the fence. He still had the gun in one hand, but his grip had loosened. I dove for it, wrenching it out of his hand, pushing back the safety with both thumbs. I pressed the barrel into the side of his head and he blinked at me.

            “You wouldn’t shoot me, would you?”

            “I’m inclined to.”

            “I thought fairies were nice.”

            “Wrong fairy.” I clenched my teeth and pulled the trigger.

            There was an empty sounding “click” and I felt my stomach drop into my boots.

            “Looks like I got lucky.” The man seized my wrist, shaking my hand until I lost my grip on the pistol and it clattered to the road. “I’m didn’t want to do this.”

            His hands were on my neck suddenly, and I thought for sure he was going to strangle me, taking his revenge for my attempt at killing him. Instead, something smooth and cold slid around my throat. There was a metallic click just under my left ear, and something locked into place around my neck.

            Pins and needles shot through my entire body. Weakness coursed through my limbs, turning my muscles to water, and I gasped as my knees gave way underneath me. A pair of strong arms caught me, holding me up off the paving stones.

            I could feel the slow, steady pulse of my heart and the tingling sensation around my throat. “No,” I mumbled. “You can’t…”

            His voice was low, heavy with regret. “Iron. It seems to affect you just as well as a full blooded fairy. I’m very sorry I had to do that, but I’d rather you not attempt to murder me again.”