20 Years Later (10 page)

The din grew louder as the window opened and Zane heard Grame yell out, “Is it really a girl, Jay?”

Callum finally opened the window more, now certain that they wouldn't be seen, and let Zane come forward and kneel at the windowsill so that both of them could look out.

Zane looked down and to the right. The Boys were clustered in a tight group around an open doorway of one of the buildings opposite the one in which he and Callum were hidden. They were all jostling, trying to shove each other out of the way to be able to see whatever it was.

Zane caught sight of Grame easily enough, as he held one of the torches. The other was held by Mark, a little farther back. Jay soon came into view, pulling someone out of the building. Grame pushed the Boys back to let their leader out, and Zane saw that Jay was actually holding on to a person with each hand, both struggling desperately to free themselves. One was much taller than the other, and in the guttering light it was clear that they were both thin and not openly part of any gang he knew of. Their clothes were mismatched but well cared for.

“Let us go!” the taller one cried out, sounding furious rather than scared. All of the Boys, and Zane included, gasped–the voice was high and most definitely female. The ones closest to her stood back a little, forming an untidy circle around Jay and his prisoners.

“It
i
s a girl!” Dev said, in a voice somewhere between reverential and scared.

She was almost the same height as Jay and just as slender. Her shoulder-length hair was messy from her struggling. It was hard to make out the colour of it in the torchlight, but it was dark, probably brown. He couldn't see much of her face as she was twisting and clawing at Jay's hand, but Zane could see that she wasn't as shapely as the Red Lady and probably not even nearly as pretty.

In his fixation on the girl, Zane almost overlooked the other captive. The boy also struggled, shorter than the girl by about a foot or so, with very short dark hair. But he was much less interesting than the girl. Jay seemed to think so too.

He laughed at her, which seemed to only incense her more. “Whoa, whoa!” he chuckled. “I'm stronger than you, but if you want to keep doing that, I don't mind.” She gradually stopped, realising its futility. “That's better,” he said, his voice lowering in the way that always made Zane nervous. “Now, you two are trespassing on my patch.”

“I didn't know it was your ‘patch,'” she spat back at him and Jay's mouth formed into a theatrical “O” for the benefit of the crowd who began to jeer.

“You stupid or sommat?” one of them yelled.

“Everyone knows this is our patch!” another cried, and other Boys shouted “Yeah!” in agreement.

“Just let us go and we'll leave right away,” she yelled above the mob and Jay whooped with enjoyment.

“Let you go?” he said, the mass of Boys quietening to hear his response. “You think it's that easy? Don't you know
what we do with people who come into our territory?”

For the first time Zane saw her face. She was fairly plain, her features betraying only a little of her fear at his words. Zane admired her as she was certainly being braver than he thought he would be in her place.

“But this is a special occasion!” Jay announced loudly. “Don't remember the last time I saw a girl, let alone in my patch. So perhaps we'll find a way to have some fun first. Get to know each other a bit, whaddya say?”

Before she had the chance to answer, he pushed the captive boy away from him into the crowd. The girl yelled “Titus!” in desperation as she watched him being dragged away, the Boys swarming around him like bees.

Zane looked behind him up at Callum, standing still as stone. “Callum!” he whispered urgently, horrified at the events unravelling below them.

Callum looked down at him and shook his head grimly. “Stay silent, Zane.”

“But …!” he started as Callum put a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't sure if it was to quiet him or comfort him.

Back down into the street, Jay wasn't in the same place. Zane frantically scanned the road until he caught sight of him on the edge of the lit area. His right arm was around the neck of the girl, dragging her away from the mob. He couldn't see where his left hand was, but was thankful to see that both of his knives were still sheathed.

“Callum!” he said again in a panic. “What's Jay going to do?”

Callum didn't respond.

“He's not going to kill her is he?” Zane demanded. “We can't let that happen! And the boy, they'll –”

“Zane,” Callum said, a little louder, cutting him off. “This is their territory. If you want you and your mother to be safe, best not interfere.”

“But!”

Callum squeezed his shoulder gently and said in a sad voice, “Only way to stay alive, Zane. I know it's hard, but think about what would happen if you called out or went down there. Everything has consequences. Everything.”

Zane turned back to the violence unfolding below, the Boys shoving their victim between them like a stuffed toy, the terrified child trying to protect his head. Jay was out of sight now, and a wave of nausea hit Zane, not knowing what was happening but fearing that it was very, very wrong.

He gripped the windowsill, burning to stop what was happening but paralysed by Callum's words. He was right; to challenge the actions of a gang leader in his territory was tantamount to suicide. But it didn't make it easier, and it twisted Zane's guts into tight cramps as he struggled to remain still and quiet. He wondered if his mother would stay silent if she were in his place now.

Down below the boy cried out as he was hit. “Lyssa!” he called out weakly, but then a knee in his stomach doubled him over and he collapsed, gasping for breath.

At the same moment, Zane gasped, blinking rapidly as his vision shifted. All he could see was crisper; the torchlight's glow was more vibrant, the windowsill's cracks and dirt were suddenly visible in far more detail than before. But it wasn't those that arrested his attention.

The boy at the centre of the violent pack had a soft blue aura all around him. In places it was dim, one place his stomach where he had just been hit. As Zane focused more closely, bruises began to bloom on his arms, face and legs, even where clothing obscured his normal sight.

Visible to everyone, a sudden flash of intense blue light far up the street in the direction that Jay had taken the girl illuminated the buildings, casting shadows as strong as if it were noon, and then disappeared just as quickly. A high-pitched
scream sliced through the darkness. Another scream followed soon after, but this one was cut off suddenly and an eerie silence fell.

The distraction pulled Zane's focus away from the boy and his vision returned to normal. Callum crouched down quickly at the sight of the flash, keeping his hand on Zane's shoulder protectively.

Another burst of the same light, a huge arc of bright blue lightning leapt from somewhere up the street, far too low and disturbingly horizontal for it to be anything natural. The end of the arc struck Grame in the chest like a whip. He flew into the air, thrown several feet backwards to slam into an old lamp post. The torch was knocked out of his hand and snuffed out when it landed, casting most of the street into darkness. Grame's body thudded to the ground.

There was absolute silence for a moment, as all the Boys stared in horror down the street. Then in the next, there was pandemonium, the Boys scattering, yelling, and screaming as they ran back to their square. Mark waited until they had all left the street, not caring about the unconscious child left where he had fallen. When he was sure all the Boys were away, he took a deep breath and shouted “Jay!” as loud as he could. When no response came, he began to run towards where he had last seen him, taking his own torch with him.

“Stupid boy!” Callum hissed to himself.

They both watched helplessly as another crackling finger of lightning flicked out to him. It pitched him into the air with a cry, flinging him into one of the buildings. They heard the loud crack as his head hit the stone, and the last of the torch-light revealed a smear of blood as he and the torch fell to the ground.

Zane shivered violently, staring out into the blackness fearfully, so very grateful for the protection of the building. Nothing happened for a few moments, and Callum kept him
still. All he could hear was the sound of his own rapid breathing and distant noises of the Bloomsbury Boys scrabbling into their hiding places.

“Keep still. We're safe here,” Callum whispered in his ear. “We'll wait a little longer, then they'll be gone.”

“What
was
that?” Zane whispered back, his throat tight and mouth dry with fear.

“Nothing good,” Callum muttered back grimly.

No more lightning came. Callum kept them there for what seemed to Zane to be an almost unbearable length of time. He wanted nothing more than to get home to his mother.

Finally, the old man stood slowly, drew him away from the window, and began to steer him back through the building, down the fire escape and to the end of the alleyway. The waning moon was low in the sky and Zane was thankful for the pale light it gave. Callum stopped him from going on into the square.

“Wait here,” he whispered, and then slipped out into the shadow of the old bank. Zane waited, twitching and jumping at the slightest noise.

Callum soon reappeared, this time cradling to him the beaten boy, who was moaning quietly with every movement. Zane stared at him and then looked at Callum.

“Two of his ribs are broken,” he told the old man, whose surprised expression didn't quite move his beard, only one of his eyebrows.

Callum hurried to Miri's house, Zane beside him, to find her in the doorway waiting for them.

“I heard the alarm,” she said, the argument earlier that day forgotten as she saw how ashen their faces were and the state of the boy in Callum's arms.

Just like any Bloomsbury Boy would be, he was laid on the sofa. Miri had prepared bandages and ointments already, and water was boiling over the fire.

Zane directed her attention to the various injuries faster than she could diagnose them. Callum lurked in the doorway for a few moments before saying very quietly, “I'll see if I can find the others,” and slipping away.

The boy seemed older than Zane had first thought him to be, maybe the same age as he was, now that he could be seen by the light of several candles. He helped Miri tend to him as he murmured and frowned, barely conscious. His face was scraped and his lip cut, but aside from the broken ribs he was only bruised elsewhere. When Miri had done all she could, she told Zane to stay close to him as she made some tea to treat the shock.

Zane knelt next to the boy, watching him closely with concern. He was struggling to raise his head and trying to get up, but was too dazed and hurt to do so.

“Stay still,” Zane said quietly. “It'll hurt less.”

The boy tipped his head towards Zane, and through his bloody lips croaked, “Lyssa.”

“Callum is getting her,” Zane said but the boy frowned, still very disoriented.

“Lyssa,” he mumbled again and his eyes fluttered open to look at Zane. Zane's back straightened when he saw them and he shuddered. He'd seen them before in a dream, looking back at him from a mirror. The boy had violet eyes.

The next morning Zane wandered out of his bedroom to find Jay lying on the floor on a blanket and his mother having a hushed conversation with Callum at the doorway.

Zane looked down at Jay, lying on his back. His jacket was missing and the t-shirt he wore was blackened from the chest downwards. A large hole gaped over the right-hand side of his torso, the edges crisped as if it had been burnt. One of his mother's poultices was smeared onto a large burn that spread from the top of his right hip to his ribs. Jay's mouth was slack and eyes shut, his long eyelashes especially black against the pallor of his face. He didn't look so scary now, and Zane found it hard to remember how he could have seemed so threatening the night before.

The boy had gone from the sofa, but Zane peeped into Miri's bedroom to see that he had been placed on the top of her bed and was sleeping too.

Miri and Callum were so involved in their conference that they hadn't noticed him.

“They'll have her now,” Callum was saying as Miri leant against the doorframe wearily.

“I can't believe it was so close to here,” she replied. “Poor girl.”

Callum sighed. “Not sure what the boy had to do with her, but they were close.”

Miri nodded. “He kept asking for her. I have no idea how to tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Zane made his mother jump.

Both she and Callum looked at him with the guilty faces of interrupted conspirators.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Who has her now?” Zane focused the question at Callum, making him shuffle awkwardly.

At a pointed look from Miri, he coughed and mumbled, “I'd better get over to the Boys. They don't have anyone watching them at the moment.”

Zane watched him withdraw from the doorstep and slip out of sight. Miri shut the door and turned to Zane.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, using an old distraction tactic.

Zane shook his head. “What's going on?” he asked, frustrated.

Miri's eyes flicked around the room, searching for something to concentrate on other than her son's suspicious look. They settled on Jay. “Jay's badly hurt and he may be here a while.” She came over to Zane, moved his long hair off his cheek and smoothed it affectionately, sadly. “Zane … Mark and Grame died.”

Zane looked past her, through the window and into the garden, the day taking on the quality of a strange and rather unpleasant dream. “Oh …” was all he managed to say. His mind ran over the events of the night before, how Mark had slid down the wall, how Grame had slammed into the post. He wasn't surprised, but it still made him feel odd. He hadn't been particularly close to them, but they'd always been around. Boys died in fights with the Gardners with depressing regularity, but none had ever been killed like this. He wondered how Jay had survived.