Free Christmas Wishes (novella) by Rhian Cahill Page B

tuk-tuk’s, bright laughter of tourists and street vendors calling to them.
    “I could discourage him.” I shifted my feet to take the weight off my lame right leg. “For an extra fee, of course.” While Gideon had rules about how to conduct business, I had never had a problem with making some extra money on the side.
    “Of course.” Norma stood alongside me and I swallowed as her perfume engulfed me like a poisonous gas. “What’d he do?” she asked in her slow voice. “To get the attention of Blackgoat Watch?”
    “Client business.” I tried to discreetly block my nose. Roper’s crime was stealing a satchel from someone with enough wealth to fund my trip out of The Weald. The satchel contained things of sentimental value, and the client was happy to pay whatever it took for its return.
    “I heard you like to be called Chopper now days,” Norma said.
    My smile melted and my fingers clutched for the charm that usually sat around my neck before I remembered it was broken. I bit back a curse. I’d heard the nickname too and wished I knew who had started it. I’d been assisting at an exorcism a month ago, and it had ended very, very badly. I mean, behead just one client and suddenly everyone’s a comedian.
    Sensing my mood, Norma changed the subject. “But tell me, how fares life in Harken? I hear tales of more violence than usual.”
    The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I narrowed my eyes at her and Norma’s aura flickered in the dim light. A flame of orange blinked around her head; it tasted like a bitter pepper on my tongue. She was an anxious woman, hiding secrets.
    Throwing her an easy smile, I flashed my dimples. I reminded myself she was a valuable snitch and to be nice. There weren’t many citizens of The Weald living in the Outlands, where the modern world beckoned with conveniences like electricity, phones and emails.
    “How long have you been here now?” I narrowed my eyes again. “Eight years?”
    Norma’s aura flushed forest green as she prepared to lie. I blinked a few times, clearing my vision. I didn’t need to know much more about Norma. I’d gotten what I’d come for.
    “Maybe more like five.” She raised a hand to smooth her hair. “Had me a little pie shop in Applecross. Got into some trouble with the law, so I moved here. I blend in easy enough, which is a blessing.”
    I didn’t ask her to elaborate. Her story was common enough. The Outlands were a common hiding place for criminals from The Weald. “Business as usual in Harken,” I said. I watched as Roper tried to turn on the charm, a sickly sweet smile on his face, and continued. “I heard the Council of Ten are trying to pass a bill to legalise steam technology again.”
    “That old chestnut.” Norma shook her head. “The old families will never allow it.” There was a pause, then she asked, “Did you hear about the Regulator who did all that killing in a beserker rage? Rumours say he fled to the Outlands.”
    “You sure hear well, for someone hiding out,” I said absently. Roper was now trying to convince his woman of his prowess. Maybe he thought she should pay him. The woman didn’t look convinced. I hoped she was going to kick him in the balls and save me the trouble. Norma didn’t answer me, so I just shrugged. “I read something about it in the street press. Don’t know much else. Regulators have nothing to do with me.”
    “Nephilim.” Norma spat on the floor. “Filthy beasts.”
    Silently agreeing with her and wondering why she would spit on her own floor, I watched as Roper started fumbling with his zipper. “I’ll need some privacy.”
    Norma moved away, velour thighs making a swishing sound. “Try not to get blood on the carpet. I have to pay the cleaners extra for that.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “And those side tables weren’t cheap. If you’ve got to break something, use the lamp.”
    “Fine.”
    With a humphing sound and more rustling of cheap fabric, Norma left me alone,