Ugly Girl Read online

  The man in the window was only a pudgy head who leaned back to take notes with a quill and parchment before leaning forward again. “Alright. You picked quite a night to visit. The Queen’s Army was just in here yesterday, searching through the place for the Judge’s son from Province 2. Boy, do they make a mess when they come through. Draper’s probably still recovering. But go on in. You know I won’t turn you away.”

  The window shut, and something that sounded like a lever turned from the inside, opening up a door that was seven trees wide. Bayard and Remy went in guiding their horses with careful steps, while Damond led the way.

  Reyn and Bastien sandwiched Lane and I between them, with Lot taking up the rear. I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth, worried that we were going somewhere I didn’t understand, and might be doing something that might be more dangerous than we could handle. I wished we weren’t downwind of Rousseau. His nervous stomach kept letting noxious gas out with a blast after every third step.

  Damond shuffled ahead, leading the way through the cobblestone village that was decidedly shady. There were loud fistfights coming from a street to our left, and angry bickering over who broke whose window to our right. The sound of the quarrel was broken by a woman’s scream that pierced my ears with the passion of a good horror movie howl. I shrank into Bastien and brought Lane tighter to my side.

  The night was lit by intermittent lanterns that highlighted trash in the street. The city reeked of piss and neglect. The shops we passed by reflected the crime city factor, missing the cheery push to bring in newcomers. Instead we were greeted with filthy storefronts and clientele that milled about with surly scowls that concealed none of their shady intent. Several toppled carts were left half on the street, and hay was strewn about in the middle of the main road we were headed down. There were no houses, only businesses with stucco roofs and barred windows. Though Damond was a couple inches taller than me, he looked small leading the way. I worried for him having made this trip before without us to back him up.

  A woman in her mid-sixties with thick ankles and a torn and stained housecoat flew out from one of the buildings. She didn’t give any care to who could see up her tattered brown outfit, nor did she care that I could smell her armpits even from the distance Bastien kept me as his arm tightened around me. I winced when I caught a peek of her panty-less, pudgy butt through an ill-placed slit up the back. “Damond! Good to see you, sugar pie. Tell me you’ve got an hour to spare for me. I see good things in your future, boy. I’ve got a special price on fortunes tonight. Only one silver coin for an hour. I’ll never charge so little again!” She gripped onto his collar with fingers that should know better. She had green eyes, like Reyn, so I knew she was a Rétif. They were supposed to be good at trickery. While Reyn used his deceit to try and appear healthy when he was clearly not, and Lane had used hers to hide me from Avalon, this woman apparently used hers to predict the future.

  Damond shook her off as politely as he could. “Not now, Gerta. I’ve got to see Draper. Then maybe tomorrow, if I catch you.”

  She cackled through the night, truly sounding like a witch. “If only your father knew you came here. He’d tear the whole place down rather than let his precious boy ruin his good name in our village.” She winked at him, leering without apology. “Come ruin your name with me, boy. You’ve never had so much fun.”

  She was missing one of her front teeth and breathed heavy when she spoke in his face. I could only guess by Damond’s reactive jerk backwards that her breath wasn’t all that appealing. “Not this time, Gerta. Try your luck with one of the Wildmen after they help me with my delivery.”

  Bayard gave her a clear “I’ll pass,” but Rousseau looked her up and down appraisingly. As if on cue, Rousseau let out a loud, spluttery fart that exploded out his back end. Match made in Heaven.

  “Let’s keep moving. These horses need to be watered.” Damond led the way, pulling the horses forward down the darkened street. He turned right at the end, introducing us to what could commonly be known as crime central in any world. There were men out on their front porches, shaking hands with scowls as they traded coins for pouches. There were two dudes brawling in the middle of the street, getting in punches over someone named Celine.

  “Damond! Not so fast. You know you don’t get to pass through without a stop at my place.” A man with a beer belly and no shirt on held open his front door. I didn’t want to guess what kind of toll Damond paid to get through to see his brother. “In here, boy.”

  Damond’s voice shook, but he stood his ground. “Not today, Norris. I’ve got to see Draper.”

  “You brought my payment, didn’t you?” He slammed his door shut and waddled toward Damond, who stepped back on instinct.

  Bastien gripped my hand, and I could tell he was debating between keeping a low profile and beating the snot out of Norris. Bayard handed his horse to Lot and stood next to Damond, his hand heavy on my cousin’s shoulder. “What sort of payment?”

  “A silver coin. Don’t care whose pocket it comes from. Your money’s just as good here, Wildman. But if you want to pass, you pay to walk down my street.” He touched Damond’s chin, and I flinched when Damond jerked away guiltily. “I take other payments, too. Isn’t that right, boy? One way or another, I get my hand in your pocket.”

  Lane was shaking with grief, but I was trembling with rage. My voice came out quiet, but each word was punctuated with a rage that was bubbling up inside of me. “At what point am I allowed to kick that guy’s butt? I mean, I’m supposed to be discreet, but I don’t think that’s as important as ending this dude.” Seven burrowed against my abdomen, her wings stiffening at my tension. My sweet bird begged me to stay quiet, not wanting to risk me getting hurt in a fight. I could hear Hamish’s angry chittering from Reyn’s pocket. My squirrel didn’t understand all the politics of the situation, but he knew when I was pissed, and took my causes on as his own, like a true friend.

  Bastien held tight to my hand, anchoring me to the spot. “Your identity stays secret. Let us handle it. Keep your head down.”

  Bayard reached his beefy, hairy fingers out and gripped Norris’ face, squeezing his cheeks until Norris squealed. “I tell you what. I’m going to go make sure Damond makes it to where we’re headed, and then I’m coming back for you. See how you like getting your payment from me.”

  Bastien moved me closer, securing me to his side protectively. I held onto Lane’s hand, ensuring she didn’t leave my sight. Her head was bowed beneath her hoodie, but I could see her jaw was set in deep planning mode. I didn’t want to be on the business end of whatever she had in store for Norris.

  Norris let us pass by after Bayard released him with a knee to his groin and a punch across his face. “L-let’s go,” Damond said, and I desperately wanted to hug him, to tell him it was going to be alright.

  Damond led us down several more streets, fending off aggressive street urchins and a few jags who tried to steal the horses. Bastien set Abraham Lincoln down, and the two of them defended the horses while Lot and Remy guarded Lane and I, who were unarmed. Abraham Lincoln bit one of the attackers, and raked his claw across the leg of one of the others.

  “That’s right, buddy!” Bastien called to his fur baby. Bastien landed a few punches on the robbers, knocking two of them clean out with a force Mike Tyson would envy. The entire fight was over in a minute, but Damond admonished all of us to try harder to keep a low profile. Bastien offered up a “What do you expect?” kind of shrug I adored him for.

  The streets themselves grew filthier as we neared the three-story building with a stucco roof at the end of the street. It appeared to be the grand finale of the city, with the cobblestone ending at its imposing doublewide entrance. There had been mud on the road and some spilled food, sure, but soon we were stepping over glass and out and out garbage.

  My nerves were shot when we arrived at the noisy bar with too many drunk middle-aged and older men inside for me to be chill. We peered through the scummy wind
ow, making sure to keep a healthy distance from the drunken brawling that was happening inside.

  “This is no place for us to stay!” Lot scolded Damond in a whisper that could barely be heard. There was a piano that played off-key, but no one seemed to mind. The men’s attentions were all glued to the scantily clad women who danced for them all around the large common area. There were women dancing on the bar, women sashaying from table to table, women wearing sheer swaths of fabric that left nothing to the imagination, and a few women wearing absolutely nothing.

  Damond was firm. “Do you really think Morgan will search for her here? This is the best we’ve got. Rosie has to rest, and her leg is only going to get more injured if she keeps on like she is. This is the best I can do, so keep quiet for a little longer until I can get us a room. Wait here. I’ll be right out.”

  Damond disappeared inside, and none of us spoke of the strippers earning their keep, but remained in stunned silence until he came back. Damond’s smile broke the uncertainty, spreading wide across his face. “We can take the horses to my brother’s stables around back. Draper’s meeting us there! Hurry!”

  I hadn’t known Damond had a brother, but that was on the long list of things I didn’t know about my own family.

  We scurried around back, looking over our shoulders and making sure we weren’t followed. Everyone exhaled in unison when Remy shut the stable doors behind us, though Bastien and Reyn kept tight to Lane and me.

  “I don’t know about this,” Remy warned me. “The Lost Village is no place for a lady, or men who want to go about a life unscathed. You’ll stay near Bastien, Princess.”

  I glanced up at Bastien, and the sight of him holding my bear again warmed me down to my toes. “If you insist.”

  * * *

  Continue the series with Lost Girl ,

  book two in the Faîte Falling series.

  Also by Mary E. Twomey

  The Saga of the Spheres

  The Silence of Lir

  Secrets

  The Sword

  Sacrifice

  * * *

  The Volumes of the Vemreaux

  The Way

  The Truth

  The Lie

  * * *

  Jack and Yani Love Harry Potter

  * * *

  Undraland

  Undraland

  Nøkken

  Fossegrim

  Elvage

  The Other Side

  * * *

  Undraland: Blood Novels

  Lucy at Peace

  Lucy at War

  Lucy at Last

  Linus at Large

  * * *

  Terraway

  Taste

  Tremble

  Torture

  Tempt

  Treat

  Temper

  Tease

  Trap

  * * *

  Faîte Falling

  Ugly Girl

  Lost Girl

  Rich Girl

  Stupid Girl

  Broken Girl

  Untouchable Girl

  Stubborn Girl

  * * *

  Faîte Falling: Faîte Rising

  Common Girl

  Blind Girl

  Savage Girl

  Dangerous Girl

  Find your next great read and sign up for the

  newsletter at www.maryetwomey.com

  * * *

  Mary also writes contemporary romance under

  the name Tuesday Embers.

  View her books at www.tuesdayembers.com