It settled on the road, blocking their way. A portal in its side irised open and a woman leaned out, her rusty-red eyes hard in the drizzling morning. A man sat farther back in the car, barely visible. “Well, aren’t you a pretty pair,” the woman said. “Get in. We’ll give you a ride.” The hair on the back of Aliana’s neck rose. That woman had eyes the same color as her stepfather. He used to talk that way when he was drunk, as if he were an Aristo and Aliana was his slave. That was usually before he started hitting. “No thanks.” Aliana grabbed Red’s arm, spun around, and strode the other way, tugging him with her. “Careful,” Red said as he strode at her side. “They rich. Important. Not make mad.” “I don’t give a drill how rich they are,” Aliana said. “They’re still slaves.” With those eyes, the woman had to be part Aristo, the illegitimate daughter of someone powerful. Just seeing her made Aliana feel as if bugs were crawling on her skin. The car hummed behind them, its turbines growling.
