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Mykie winced. "I didn't do it. I've done it before, though. Killed someone."
The boys were quiet until they passed about three houses or so. "You've done it out of self-defense, right?"
It was Corbus who asked the question.
"Sometimes. You don't earn a nickname that stands for 'ruthless' by doing nothing, though. I remember every name and face of those I have. I try to avoid killing anyone unless it’s a direct order. It’s easier to just...mark them."
"Mark them? With what?" Caspar asked.
"With a knife. I..." She stopped. Should she go on and tell them, or keep it to herself? Telling them would change their perception of her, and she could possibly lose Corbus, who seemed to still be on the fence.
"What? What do you do?" Corbus pressed.
"I used to carve a V in their lower arm," she spat out. "It's just below their elbow on the inside of their arms. It's so they don't forget about going against me. It stands for 'Valkyrie', but it also stands for 'Vesper'. I stole it from the Vultures, which means it can also stand for their group."
"Clever," Caspar murmured. “You didn’t do it to Re—the man in the restaurant, though.”
He almost said “Renly’s father”, but stopped himself, which Mykie was grateful for. She didn’t need Corbus to think the worse of her.
“That guy wasn’t my assignment. He only got in my way, which would make the mark meaningless. However, knowing what I know now, I’m both glad and upset I didn’t mark him. The mark would be proof that the Vultures were involved.”
“But you would have felt guilty, seeing who it was, if you did,” Caspar answered.
"How can you talk like that?" Corbus asked, his tone filled with confusion and a little wonder. "Like…like this isn’t about real people? It’s sick.”
Mykie cringed. Was it really that bad?
"A lot of the things we do involves blood and marks. Both the Cantil and the Vultures. I mean. Scars are meant to be worn as trophies and marks are especially sacred. It either means your days are numbered or you're..." she swallowed harshly and watched them out of the side of her eye. "It means you're protected by us. It’s like a claim of commitment to the Cantil, officially. It all depends on the placement. It’s not all bad, either. Marks could be anything from scars to tattoos."
She saw Caspar seize up, and they all stopped in the middle of the sidewalk when the two of them realized he was no longer following.
"You haven't mentioned that before. Will I have to do it?" he asked. His eyes searched her face, bouncing around as he watched every feature.
"Eventually, yes. It won't be until you're ready, however. It wasn't supposed to be until I had this deal locked down, but we know how that turned out."
"So, you'll have to cut a mark into him? When?" Corbus asked.
If she had her way, she would do it as soon as possible.
“Now that Za—the Vultures have passed along their message, I fear you're in more danger than before. They know they could use you against me, which is why I think you should learn self-defense. I won’t always be there to defend you, and even if I was, not everyone fights fair."
She thought back to Zack slamming her head into the wall at the mall. No, not everyone fought fair. Even those that say they’re not supposed to hurt you.
"Why does he need them and not me?" Corbus questioned.
"You called me sick. I don’t foresee you staying around me after seeing who I really am," Mykie said bitterly.
Corbus frowned. "I didn't callyousick. I think it's sick to cut people up."
"It's who I am, Corbus. It's either one or the other," she snapped quietly, turning on her heels, and started walking again. "But you're partially right. If you're going to continue being around me and in my company, you should learn to defend yourself, too. Caspar's more entitled to it, however, because of his Hatchling status."
"What if I wanted to be one of those? Or in the Cantil?" Corbus asked.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” Mykie muttered.
"When did it suddenly become so easy to recruit 'em, Vesper?" Chance called out from his porch, a cigarette in his hands. "In my day, people were scared to say they wanted to be in a gang, but now it's the coolest thing."
Mykie didn't realize that she had walked far enough to reach the house at the end of the street. Chance sat in one of the porch chairs with his feet leaning up on the table and smoke billowing out of his lips.
