The City on the Edge
One

“We’re going to get caught,” Lorna said as she fidgeted in place.

Ronnie ignored her in favor of working a thin metal rod into the lock hanging on a thick chain across the door. Lorna glanced over her shoulder to the busy street behind them. The house they were breaking in to had long since been abandoned, if the chains across the door and notice from the White Guard were anything to go by.

“I’ve almost got it,” Ronnie grunted, working sharp teeth into her lip as she concentrated. Her head cocked to the side, sensitive ears picking up every ping from the pins as they clicked into place.

She twisted the rod sharply and the lock popped open with a clink. She pulled it free and let the chains unravel noisily to the ground. Toeing them to the side, she pushed against the door. It scraped the stones and creaked on its hinges, rusted with age, as it opened.

“Oh, jeez!” Ronnie covered her mouth and nose as an acrid stench rushed out of the home.

She staggered back, turning away from the open door and taking several deep breaths of fresh air. The smell hadn’t quite dispersed, hovering around them, stinging in her nostrils and laying heavy on her tongue. Lorna gagged and fanned a hand in front of her face.

“That’s ripe,” she frowned. “Are you okay? It must be worse for you.”

Ronnie straightened up and wiped at her eyes, smearing a wet stripe across her cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Lorna raised a brow at her, a wry smile curving her lips, “I guess those sharp senses aren’t always a blessing, huh?” She peered inside the doorway, “Are you sure you want to go in? We could find someplace else.”

“No,” Ronnie’s voice was firm. “If what Anya said was true, no one comes to this place anymore. It hasn’t been touched by anyone. We might actually find something valuable inside. Malik will be happy to have some money for the house and Hazel will be grateful that we didn’t steal from anyone this time.”

Ronnie sucked in one more breath and stepped inside, Lorna pulling the door shut behind her as she followed. The rancid odor still clung to everything, and the open door had eased the foul pressure a little, but they needed to keep prying eyes from noticing what they were up to.

The home was small, much smaller than it appeared on the outside. From the street, the entire building looked like it was one enormous house for one of the few in the Edge lucky enough to have money, but now, it was clear that it was a hide-away home. No doubt the rest of the building had several more small spaces like this for downtrodden supernaturals to take refuge.

As Ronnie stepped into the sitting room, which looked like it doubled as a cooking space, she began to think that maybe Anya had been wrong. The room appeared to have already been ransacked. What little furniture there was had been overturned, the floor littered with debris and the contents of drawers had been pulled out and dumped. Bits of food had been left to mold on a rickety table by the oven. The single window on the far wall was boarded, letting in only a wink of the afternoon light.

“I can’t see any-oops!” Lorna tripped over a chair leg.

Ronnie caught her before she hit the ground. “Hang on to me, I can see just fine,” she said, grabbing Lorna’s hand. “You know how these senses are a blessing.” The squeeze from Lorna’s hand let her know that she found the comment amusing.

Ronnie ventured further in to the room while Lorna moved cautiously behind her. As a shifter, Ronnie’s eyes were perfectly designed for low light. What was pitch black for Lorna was dim shadow for Ronnie, like curtains pulled shut on a bright day. She stepped over the broken furniture as she swept her gaze around the room. The shelves were bare. Uneven streaks and spatters of filth were caked like mud across the walls.

She paused when she spotted a doll wedged beneath a small overturned table against the wall. A child’s toy? Had there been children here? Unease coiled deep in her gut, shifting like a lead weight.

“Hold on,” She let go of Lorna’s hand and knelt down. With careful fingers, she picked up the doll, revealing a set of deep grooves in the wood. Ronnie traced her finger over them, scraping her nails across them lightly. Claws had made these marks. She set the doll back in its place.

“Ronnie?” Lorna’s voice was a quiet whisper. “Did you find anything?”

“I’m not sure.”

She stood up and turned around. Lorna was fiddling with her braid, twisting it in her hand and winding it through her fingers. Sour anxiety drifted off her skin, wafting over to Ronnie, who wrinkled her nose. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“It’s okay-“ Ronnie started to move to her, but stopped when glass crunched loudly under her boot.

She looked down at the floor to see what she’d stepped on. It was a photo frame. She picked it up, mindful of the sharp pieces of glass. It was a picture of a woman and two children. Three sets of golden eyes, faded now to pale yellow, were stark beneath the dusty, cracked glass. Shifters. The family that lived here were shifters. Both of the girls were young with matching twin braids and small hands that clutched identical dolls. Ronnie’s eyes drifted to the doll on the floor.

“What is it?” Lorna asked.

“A picture. I think this is the family that lived here.” Ronnie made to hand it to Lorna, but a sudden thump stopped her.

She heard Lorna’s sharp intake of breath as she tensed. Ronnie set the photo on the floor gently and as quietly as she could. She was certain that they were alone. She would have heard another heartbeat, especially in such a small space. Lorna reached out for her and Ronnie took her hand. She gave Lorna what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze as she passed her.

“Wait-“ Lorna began but Ronnie held up a finger to silence her. Lorna’s mouth snapped shut and she nodded.

The noise had come from down the narrow hall. A single door was shut at the end. Ronnie looked over her shoulder. Lorna wasn’t far from the front door. If something had managed to get past her and attacked, then at least Lorna could get outside easily and escape.

Walking on the balls of her feet, Ronnie made her way down the hall. Her ears strained, taking in each sound. Lorna’s heart beat steadily in her ears, familiar and strong, if somewhat quicker than normal. But it was the only heart she could hear.

As she drew nearer to the closed door, she could make out the shuffle of gentle movement, though it wasn’t much. Could it be curtains over an open window? An animal? Another scavenger looking for valuables?

Ronnie reached out and gripped the door handle. With a low growl, she threw the door open. It slammed against the wall and rocked back to her. It bumped into her bare shoulder but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were on the gruesome sight in front of her.

Three bodies lay across a large bed against the wall, covered in a small swarm of tiny black demons with shiny bodies and razor blade teeth that were moving in a scattered frenzy, disturbed by her entrance. A woman and two little girls, illuminated by a single stripe of sunlight that filtered in through the crack in the wood-covered window. Ronnie slapped a hand over her mouth, sucking in a breath and refusing to let it out. The stench that had permeated every crevice of the home was thickest in here. Now she knew what it was- decay.

She was so shaken by the sounds of spindly demon legs clacking together that she failed to hear Lorna creeping down the hall.

“Ronnie?”

Ronnie’s head snapped to the side. She opened her mouth to tell Lorna to stay back, to go outside, but she hesitated. Lorna peered into the room and gasped loudly in the silence. She covered her mouth with her hands, failing to stop the whimper that quivered past her lips as she stumbled back into the hall.

“Oh my…what?” Her voice trembled. Ronnie reached a hand out to soothe her, but Lorna ducked away. She turned and all but ran for the front door. She tripped and staggered over the debris strewn across the floor, but she made it to the door. She wrenched it open, flooding the home with light and disappeared out on to the street. Ronnie watched her go before turning back to the bedroom.

On the floor by the bed was another doll. Even from her place in the doorway Ronnie could see the bite marks on the doll’s little arms, along with the bits of dried flesh still stuck to it. Her stomach churned as she realized the demons had pushed the doll to the floor while eating what remained of the girl’s hand.

As the demons cleared off the bed, scurrying away to hide in the walls, something flashed next to the mother’s body. Ronnie moved toward the bed slowly, her eyes glued to the bodies as she reached out, as if she thought they might suddenly move and grab at her, lamenting their tragic passing to her ears.

Her fingers closed around the surface of something cool and metallic. She pulled it from the bedspread, crusty and filthy with age and bodily remains. She turned it over in her hands and nearly dropped it when she saw the other side. A capital P of elegant script had been stamped on the silver coin. An imposing crown sat above it, the sign of authority, cruel and sharp.

Purity.

Ronnie closed her fist around the coin. She’d never seen it before, never seen them before, but she knew the stories. She knew their insignia and their legacy. Purists obsessed with cleansing the world of supernatural blood, so that in the end only human blood, pure blood, would remain. They’d carved their way across the Edge during Marla’s Battle. She thought they’d been dismissed when the war was over.

These bodies said differently. These bodies weren’t two centuries old. Ronnie’s eyes trailed over the splatter across the wall. It had turned a dark brown with age and its scent was long gone, but Ronnie was certain she knew what it was.

She stepped closer to the bodies. Their dry skin was stretched taut across bone and has been feasted on by the black Scrum demons and other creatures, but Ronnie could still see where the torn flesh met the clean cuts that had left impressions on the bone. Murdered by a sword. The only pure way to die.

Ronnie pocketed the coin and left the bedroom. She stopped in the sitting room and looked at the chaos and broken glass and dark stained walls again. This time, she didn’t imagine scavengers looting through a forgotten home. Instead, she saw figures in white and silver robes with swords and a desperate mother trying to protect her children. She saw a fight of claws and fangs against metal, a fight of predator against predator. Ronnie’s heart ached in sympathy and fear.

Those bodies weren’t two centuries old. They weren’t even a decade old. A burning question heavy with the implications of its answer settled in her mind- were supernaturals still being hunted?…

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