An alley wasn’t that scary to the kind of person who belonged in one, and the boy slipped through them naturally, as though he were pulled by an unseen current, cursing in a strange language as the tail of his jacket caught on a rusting piece of scrap metal, heavy boots keeping pace as they crushed cans and rotting things underneath. He never stopped to think about what or whom he might be stepping on, no. He had work to do, and pity anything that got in his way.
He carried a package under the folds of his jacket, always carrying something from one place to the next, but never questioning what it was he’d been handed. It wasn’t that he trusted any of the parties he worked for, but he needed them to trust him. So he arrived on time with not a piece of packaging paper, nor a bit of twine out of place, and they respected him for that. At least, he felt that they did. They never allowed him to see their eyes, which should have bothered him, but he’d learned not to complain long ago, carried the scars they’d given him as a reminder. He kept his part of their bargain, too, kept the color of his skin hidden under as much clothing as the weather and his budget would allow. It was part of the deal that many had struck with his kind after the Fall. They weren’t sympathetic to him, nor any of his kind. They viewed the few survivors of the Fall with loathing, as though any moment their infection would spread, and bring about the fall of their rusting iron world. But when he slipped gloves over his unnaturally long fingers and covered his silver scarred skin with layers of cloth, they could almost convince themselves that he was something resembling human, almost convince themselves that business was business and they couldn’t afford to care about whether or not the boy’s grim smile would reveal dull canines underneath, or the painfully bright, painfully sharp grin of a fairie.
The painful sound of glass crunching underneath a steel toe echoed through the night, and the curious glow of an alley cat’s eyes reflected the indistinct light of the inner city that hovered even here, in the darkest of places. But they saw nothing more than last week’s front page floating forgotten to the grimy ground. The boy was already gone.
alien beads- 