Page 41 of The Blood Witch

“Stella here is a Badger Shifter,” Seth announced, clasping the young girl on the shoulder.

Vee’s smile widened at the pride in Seth’s voice, at the way Stella grinned, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “Is that so?” she asked. “Wow, Stella. I’ve never met a Badger Shifter before. Have you, Jayce?”

Jayce glanced up from his stacks of paper and shook his head. “Me? Nah. Never.”

“Must be pretty rare, huh?”

“We are!” Stella said, looking at them, excited. “And we’re diggers. Better diggers than any of the other Shifters, even the Rats.”

“Wow!” Vee said, shifting back to sit on her ankles. “You know, Stella,” she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Our clubhouse could really use a good digger. We have some scores coming up soon, and you might be just what we need. What do you say? Want to help us out?”

The way Stella’s eyes lit up made her stomach twist, but Vee kept the smile on her face. They’d learned this together, her and Jayce. Strays wouldn’t accept handouts, didn’t trust that anyone would want to help them out without expecting something in return. But convince them they can pay you back, somehow? Convince them they’re necessary, that they have a skill you desperately need? Well, then they’ll accept your help, thinking the whole time that they’re pulling one over on you. Taking advantage of a good deal.

“Are you hungry, Stella?” Jayce asked suddenly. “We’ve got sandwiches downstairs left over from dinner. Seth, why don’t you take her down and get her something to eat, huh? We can’t have our new digger going hungry.”

Stella grinned, and Seth clasped her by the shoulder before leading her back down the ladder and off the roof.

Vee watched them go, the smile slipping from her face.

“They found a dead Badger Shifter by the docks earlier this week, didn’t they?” she asked Jayce, voice low.

Jayce nodded. His own smile was gone, too, and his eyes were hard. “Yeah. Overdosed. He’d be about the right age to be her father, too.”

Vee nodded. “Keep an eye on her. She’s probably been living off scraps for at least a few days now. Keep her inside just in case she had to steal her last few meals and got on a merchant’s bad side. And find something she can dig. I don’t care if it’s a score or not.”

Jayce grunted.

Vee hated this part. Hated the first few weeks of trying to keep a new stray. These poor kids were so damaged, so used to surviving moment to moment, that it was almost impossible to help them. Convince them they were necessary, give them their freedom, and let them adjust. That was the trick to it. If they could keep her safe over the next few weeks, they could find Stella a more permanent place to stay, maybe some other Shifter pack that would take her in.

And if not? Well, they had beds here, in the clubhouse. They had food. And they had Vee to keep them all safe.

Vee sighed, trying to push all those emotions boiling inside of her away, at least for the moment. Sitting back on the cold brick of the roof and grabbing a pen, she took the top poster and scrawled a message on top of it, then set it aside.

Jayce wandered over to watch after a few minutes. He knew better than to ask what she was up to; she would tell him when it was necessary. So, instead, he sat down next to her, head cocked to the side, watching her quietly as she worked.

Vee grabbed another poster, humming to herself as she wrote.

Chapter 16

AMALIA

It was raining. Amalia could hear the gentle percussion of the raindrops hitting her bedroom window.

She had no idea what time it was. Her curtains were closed tight enough to not let in any light, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d bothered to open them. It could be morning outside. It could be the middle of the night or the middle of the day, she didn’t know. Not that it mattered.

She should take a bath, Amalia thought to herself. Something smelled sour in her room, and she guessed it might be her. Either that or the long white nightgown she wore. Amalia couldn’t remember the last time it had been washed.

She should take a bath, but… the rain sounded so comforting, tapping rhythmically against the glass. She could bathe later, couldn’t she? The sounds of the rain made her tired again, and even though she’d been sleeping all day—or night, or whatever time it was out there—Amalia decided she just might fall back asleep and let the sounds of the rain carry her away.

A light knock on her door pulled Amalia from her haze, and she scrambled to sit up, rubbing her eyes.

“Linh?” she asked hopefully as the door opened.

Linh had visited every day after her mother’s death, assuring her that justice would be done, that the crown would rise again, that the council would fail, and she would be queen. Amalia had never cared about being queen, not really. But she’d enjoyed the company, enjoyed the attention. Enjoyed having someone to talk to, even if Linh was much better at talking than she was at listening.

But over time, Linh’s visits dropped to once a week. Then once a month. And, eventually, her visits stopped altogether.

Amalia didn’t blame her. She didn’t have the energy to blame her, or anyone else who had forgotten about her. Back when her mother was still alive, even she seemed to forget that Amalia existed, so that wasn’t anything new. Sometimes Amalia felt like a little trinket her mother kept in storage. Every now and then she’d take her out, put her in a pretty dress, and prop her up next to her on a child-sized throne to show her off. Then, back in her box she’d go until the next time her mother wanted to show her off again.

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