The Hollow Moon (Downworlder Series, #2)

Chapter Six: King of Ashes

I shifted a few of my newspapers and frowned. I had left my switchblade right there. Anxiety filled me as I quickly started searching. That blade had been a gift from my pa and it was all I had of home.

"Look at the rat, scurrying through the garbage." At the slightly bored but amused tone I gave a frustrated growl and shifted a partially completed record player over, looking under it. Where the hell was it? Anxiety twisted my stomach so hard I felt like I would throw up. "You look pale." I felt pale and worried and sick with myself. I ignored him as I dropped to the floor, yanking a box of metal scrap closer so I could rifle through it.

"This is amusing me but are you looking for this?" At the cold humor my head shot up. His long fingers held the blade I had been searching for and my heart went into my throat as I bounded over to him. I snatched the knife away, looking over it as I touched the trailing designs on the silver of the blade. The cool metal burned my fingertips but I ignored it as I heaved out a sigh of relief.

"You aren't allowed to touch him." I looked up at him, the blade held loosely in my fingertips. I itched to slice the blade through his flesh in reprimand. No one ever touched my knife.

"Him?" He raised an eyebrow as he gave a cruel smirk and I blinked at him.

"Yes. Mr. StabbaStabba." I flipped the knife in the air, catching it before twirling it around my fingers. It felt right to have him in my hands. My heart ached for my family but I shoved the feelings away.

"Mr. StabbaStabba..." He gave me a look and I blinked at him before slowly nodding. He was thick. Pretty but not much else.

"You know... Stabba stabba." I made two quick jabs with the blade before grinning at him. "StabbaStabbaStabbaStabba." I did more, aiming them at his soft spots as if there were no space between us and I was slicing through flesh. He lifted his lip in a warning flash of teeth as I sliced through the air between us.

"Trying something, mongrel?" His voice was low with warning and I ignored it as the silver blade caught a beam of light. I felt a soft smile emerge on my face as the sunlight glinted on the blade. I brought it closer to my eyes and muttered the Gaelic words that were crudely carved into the handle. My pa had carved them himself by the light of the campfire. His warm eyes on his task as his large hands clumsily attempted the fine craft.

"An nì chì na big, 's e nì na big." I whispered the words, feeling more at home with my family's language on my tongue.

I could almost smell the camp smoke and feel my pa's hands holding my legs as he carried me on his shoulders around camp. I could almost hear the chatter, the voices of those within the camp. Childish giggles filled my ears as my baby brother toddled after my mother, her hair up in intricate braids, her pale throat glowing underneath the brown hair. I could nearly see the marking scar pa had given her marring her flesh. I could see my other brother running around as he wrestled with the other children, my pa's laughter vibrating my legs and I pressed my chin to his hair. His almost wild scent filling my nose. He always smelled like home.

"What?" His voice was irritated and it cut through the moment I was having, sending the feelings scurrying away as if trying to hide from him. I felt somber at the loss of them. For a brief moment I was back where I belonged, with my family.

"What the little ones see, the little ones do." It was my pa's idea of a joke. What I saw him and thr warriors do, I did as well. I didn't learn to wield the blade on the streets. He wanted to remind me that I was just as capable as everyone else, regardless of my size or origins.

"That's ridiculous." He sneered at me and I gave him a sickly sweet smile as I tucked the knife back in my pocket.

"Tha thu 'nad fhaighean." The insult felt nice tripping off my tongue. The best part was the agitated look on his face as he couldn't understand what I had said. He truly was a cunt.