Forty-Nine
Dillon glared at the black-haired human standing on the other side of his desk, taking in the unshaven chin and slovenly attire. ‘If you don’t agree to my terms, you can no longer stay in Brimfield. Either take on the jobs the half-breeds used to do, for the same pay, or leave town immediately. It is as simple as that.’
Martin, the representative for the newcomers to Brimfield, glared back at him. ‘You can’t expect us to work for half-breed pay. We’re human. We’re not slaves. Either you pay us what we’re worth, or we don’t work.’ He loomed over the desk. ‘Another thing, we will not spend another night in the half-breed zone. We want real houses. You’ve got plenty of empty ones around. They’re ours now.’
‘You can’t just go and claim someone else’s house.’
‘Why not? The humans
