Daygo's Fury (19 page)

“He waited until the shop closed. There was a chute out the back where the pawner used to dump all of his waste through. He did it from behind the counter in the shop, where he kept all of his money. The chute was just wide enough for a boy to climb through. Calum went in from the outside, got the box that he knew the pawner kept hidden away in the corner of the room and left back out the chute again. It was simple and easy. It was the middle of the night and he figured it was safe. He went down to the well and washed his clothes clean, then went back to the flat.

“We thought he had gotten away with it. Had the money hidden. He’d planned to spend it real slowly so no one would notice. But some little fuck had seen him leave the pawn shop. The gang got wind of it. They came for Calum. They strung him up, did it front of everyone to teach people a lesson. They had long ropes with hooks at the end of them. They threw ’em around the boards of the ceiling. Then they stuck the hooks through the sides of his hands and pulled the ropes tight. Lifted ’im straight up off the ground by his hands.” Liam stopped for a moment, his eyes glazing over in remembrance. It was a scene that was vividly etched into his mind. He would never forget it. The lines of blood trailing down Calum’s forearms, dripping from his elbows. His screaming and yelling and cursing, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He was twelve, against men who were intent on torturing him. Yet he stared every one of them down, didn’t give them an inch.

“They never hide what they did to people if they caught them stealin’ from the wrong person. Calum was dead, he knew it, we all knew it. All that was left was for the gang to get the money back. But he wouldn’t tell ’em where he had it hidden. He hadn’t even told me. None of us knew.” Liam remembered how one of the enforcers had grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, shouting at him to tell them where the money was. Calum had laughed. “You think he knows?” he had said.

“They hung him from the ceiling by his hands, beat him up like a boxing bag, drew the blade across his face, burned him with iron pokers that they heated in front of him. They’d even started pulling his fingernails out. But he wouldn’t tell ’em where the money was. He kicked and screamed but wouldn’t say a word. Then Lollan came in. He’s the head of the area. Dono what he was doin’ there or why he came in. Musta heard how a kid had robbed the place. Then musta been impressed by Calum not talkin’ cause he offered Calum a deal. Said he’d leave ’im live if he told ’em where the money was. Lollan’s known for bein’ trustable. It’s how he does business. Calum told ’im he was already dead unless he got the money as well. I remember Lollan laughed at him. You could see that he respected his balls but at the same time he was gettin’ angry. He told ’im he’d give ’im twenty percent of the takings, or he could die right now. Calum agreed.” There was a long moment’s silence as it all came back to him. Liam’s eyes had blurred with tears. He blinked against them and took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked down from the skies at the slums surrounding him. There was no beauty there. He finished his story.

“The box was hidden underneath the stairs of the flat. There was a hole there that was hidden away. You wouldn’t see it unless you knew it was there.”

“Lollan kept his word and told Calum to come stop by the tavern if he was lookin’ for some work.”

“I guess the matis are always on the lookout for new potential. I guess he was surprised that a kid could pull off what he did and that he had the balls to resist afterwards.”

“He wasn’t right for weeks afterwards. They’d nearly killed him. But we’d got the money, we were able to eat again. It lasted us a few months, and by the time it was all gone, we were both strong again. Calum started to get called for the gang soon after that, spotting and other things. And no one ever messed with him afterwards, either.” Liam left out that this was how he had been introduced to Carrick. “I would have died, only for what he did.”

Racquel put a hand on his arm. Liam looked at it angrily.

“All of that, ye know. All that fuckin’ hardship, all that … just to be fuckin’ …” Liam stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He looked away. Then he had to move, he couldn’t sit there any longer. He stood up.

“I’ll talk to ye tomorrow, okay,” he said to Racquel and walked off.

******

The next day, Liam found himself standing in front of Lana’s. After his conversation with Racquel, he felt again that he had to tell her, if not for her, then for Calum. He couldn’t allow him to just disappear. People should know. His memory deserved that.

It had rained the night before and the ground was wet. It was still early in the day. The whores would most likely still be asleep, having worked late into the night. But Liam didn’t want to delay it any longer. He had nerve to enter now, to get it over with.

He knocked on the side door and waited. When there was no answer, he knocked again, and again. Finally, a girl opened the door. She didn’t look much older than Racquel and bore a slight resemblance to her; linking the two made Liam pause, an unwelcome consideration crossing his mind. She wore a black gown tied at the waist with a sash.

“What?” she asked angrily, looking at him as he stood speechless. She had dark rings underneath her eyes and her black hair was dishevelled, stray strands falling across her face.

“Is Lana in?” he asked, gathering himself.

“Lana?” replied the girl, incredulous. “What the fuck would Lana want with you?”

Liam was caught off guard; he hadn’t considered this reaction. He couldn’t think of what to say. The girl started to close the door in front of him.

“No,” said Liam, stepping up and laying a hand on the door, stopping her, “just … ahhh, tell her Liam’s here.”

She looked at him with crossed eyebrows, clearly wishing he would just go on his way.

“She’s asleep,” she said, putting pressure on the door to close it again.

“Oh … okay. Tell her when she wakes up. I’ll be out here. She’ll want to see me.” The girl gave him a final, suspicious look as he allowed her to close the door. Liam sat down on the ground to wait. He started to worry as he did so. After a while, he stood up and started pacing, dreading the door opening. He began to think maybe the girl wouldn’t tell Lana at all, that maybe he should just go. The thought struck hold. He could just leave now, no harm done. She wouldn’t know he came to visit.
Just go. There’s no point waiting here.

Just as he was about to leave, the door opened again. This time it was Lana’s face. She had no powder or makeup on this time. Her face was old, worn and wrinkled. Her hair was cut short like a boy’s, more suitable, Liam guessed, for wearing her wigs. She looked worried as she glanced in Liam’s direction. Liam looked back at her, unsure. His mouth began to work but no words came out. Suddenly there were tears in his eyes and he turned away from her.

“Liam!” Her voice was sharp. “Liam, what is it, where’s Calum?”

Liam walked away from her, down the alleyway a little. He put his hands on the wall, leaning against it, his head hanging between his arms. Suddenly, he was there again, he could see him moving, he could see him alive and slip and the hammer, the swing, the blacksmith’s eyes, following his own.
I did it
.
I gave him away, If I hadn’t of looked!
It was so stupid!
Why? Why would I look?

He turned from the wall again, tears streaming down his face. He paced over and across the alleyway, again and again, frantically moving as if by walking in circles he could escape.

Lana shook her head. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No. What happened? Liam!” she shouted, stepping out from the doorway. She wore soft, cloth slippers. They were getting wet and dirty in the mud of the alley. She wore a light shawl over her shoulders, over a gown similar to the one the girl had worn. Liam continued to pace until she strode over to him and grabbed his shoulders.

“He’s dead!” He shouted in her face as he was turned. “He’s fuckin’ dead. A fuckin’ blacksmith smashed in his head because we were robbin’ a shield from him! A fuckin’ shield, a piece of fuckin’ metal. And Carrick, that fuckin’ asshole Carrick, that cunt, that fuckin’ cunt!” He sobbed as he shouted, the force leaving his voice as he went on. He didn’t see the slap before it smacked him across the side of the face. His face went red, as did his anger. He turned to Lana but was hit again, then again. He leaned in and shoved outwards, pushing her away from him.

She stumbled backwards, finding her balance a few feet from Liam, gasping for breath. Her face was stricken. He glared across at her, suddenly furious.

“When,” she panted, “when did this happen?” Some of the anger left Liam then, and he looked away abashedly.

“Four weeks,” he said. He could see her looking across at him silently as she took in the information, but he refused to look back her way. The moment seemed to go on. It felt as though minutes passed with silence between them. They both stood stock still. Liam staring at the ground where it met the wall of the brothel, Lana staring across at him.

“Follow me,” she said at last, turning and walking back to the entrance of the brothel. After a moment, Liam followed. She didn’t look back as she walked in the doorway. She led him past the curtains of the main room. Behind were various chairs, tables and couches laid out in an area equally as large as the reception area at the entrance. There were empty mugs and plates with scraps of food still left on them. There was the smell of stale beer, stains littered the rugs and some loose pieces of clothing lay about the floor or over pieces of furniture. Liam noticed some women’s undergarments and became slightly aroused despite himself.

Lana opened a door to the right of the room and led Liam down a narrow hallway, taking the last door on the left. She left it opened for him to follow through.

“Close it,” she said. He obliged her, glancing about the room as he did so. There was a desk in front of him and straight-backed wooden chairs to either side of it. There were ledger books and sheets of paper spread out over the desktop. Lana sat behind it and opened a drawer. She took out a large bottle of brown liquid and two glasses, filling both up halfway. She pushed one across the table towards Liam.

“Drink,” she said as she took a long swig from hers, filling it up once more with the bottle. Liam walked over and picked up the glass and took a pull from it. He coughed, gasping as it burned his throat. He took another pull and pushed the glass out for more. Lana filled it up without comment.

“Sit,” she ordered. He did so, leaning back into the chair, glass in hand. It was hard and uncomfortable but he found that this suited his mood.

“I hate soft chairs,” she explained. “Spent a lifetime on pillows and cushions. I much prefer hard wood. It’s more reflective of our lives.” Liam didn’t know what reflective meant, but he felt he got her gist.

“Tell me about the job.” she asked. Liam didn’t want to. He took a drink again from the glass, avoiding the question. “I know,” she said, seemingly understanding his hesitancy. “Just … oblige me.”

Liam sighed. He reluctantly, in a quiet, sombre, tired voice, relayed all that had happened and why. When he had finished, she was silent for a while. She looked angry, furious.

“Why in the ass, Liam?” she said sharply. “Why in Lev’s fucking name did you stab a blacksmith in the ass!” Her eyes were furious as she stared across at him. He looked back at her, trying to summon up anger or resentment.

“I …” he stuttered, but he knew.
He knew
. Why did he stab him in the ass? Because he felt sorry for the fucking blacksmith. He could have hamstrung him, he could have taken him down then and there. Calum would still be alive. Everything would be good. The blacksmith didn’t show such sympathy to Calum. Liam had only riled him up, better had he done nothing.

He couldn’t say it to Lana, couldn’t utter the words. His eyes slid from her gaze, glazing over once more. He took a cool drink from his glass with a shaking hand. Lana shook her head and slapped her palm down on the table.
She knew why
.

“This place,” she said softly. “It makes beasts of us all.” Liam looked back at her, wondering what she meant. “I sometimes wonder,” she continued, “living here, was it a good thing for Levitas to have saved us? Would we be better off dead? Leave the world to the beasts. Rather than be turned beasts ourselves.”

Liam was confused. Was she not from here? He didn’t know much of Lana’s background, only that she was the matron of this house.

“The gangs, Liam,” she looked fiercely at him then. “The gangs, the matis and the kings rule. If there is anything for you to hate, if there is anything worth hating, it is that. The king killed Calum. The matis killed Calum. Not you. Not that blacksmith. Not even Carrick, that fool! If you would remember Calum, remember that instead. It is those who rule in Teruel that are to blame.”

Liam didn’t quite understand. How had the matis been to blame for Calum’s death? They had nothing to do with what had happened. It was Carrick, working on his own. It was the blacksmith. It was himself. The matis? The king? He didn’t see where they fitted in. Lana noticed his confusion and sighed.

“Drink up,” she said, standing. “I must go back to sleep.” She seemed tired, though Liam for some reason doubted that she would return to bed. She strode around the table to Liam as he finished his drink and put the glass on the table.

“Here.” She turned his palm upwards and laid a hand on top of it. Liam felt the cold shape of coin. “Try to stay alive.” She let go of his hand and pushed him towards the door.