Daygo's Fury (33 page)

At the last moment Liam dived, rolling low below the reach of the man’s swing. He slashed out with his knife as he rolled past, cutting deeply into his calf. The man cried out as Liam came back to his feet and he fell to one knee, scrambling around quickly to face Liam. Liam jumped forward, keeping to the man’s left side. His blade dipped precisely into his eye and out again. He scampered backwards as the man screamed wretchedly.

The other two were upon him, spaced out, limiting Liam’s movement as they closed in. He couldn’t take both. He let his knife go loose in his hand and feinted towards one, stopping him in his tracks, an excuse to give his arm throwing room. The knife slipped onto his thumb and forefinger. His arm whipped forward unexpectedly at the second man. He jerked sideways in shock but too late. The knife took him in the throat by the time he had started to move, and he fell backwards. There wasn’t much power in the blow and Liam felt that he would be back on his feet soon.

The third man roared angrily and charged forward, his knife slashing out towards Liam. Liam dived towards him onto one knee. Coming inside the man’s swing he turned, his left hand fending off the man’s knife hand as his right fist drove upwards into his groin. The man groaned in pain and Liam fell away before his flailing left arm could grasp him and pin him down. He rolled and was on his feet in a moment.

The first man was useless to the fight, wailing and beating his right fist to the floor while his left seemed to want to push his eye better, pressed up against it. The second man was back on his feet but had backed away, his hand clasped over his throat where blood seeped down his neck and through his fingers. Liam nodded his head at the flow of blood; it was a fatal blow after all.

He looked back at the third man, who had backed away a few steps. He was stooped over with his left arm held tightly above his groin. Liam charged across at the first man on his knees, intent on getting the man’s knife that was discarded on the ground. The standing man holding his throat kicked out at Liam loosely but missed by inches, then he seemed to realise his situation and began to panic. The first looked towards Liam, growling viciously, a red gooey substance plastered along his cheek and nose. He tried to rise but stumbled on his torn calf. Liam leaped into the air and kicked him across the side of the head with the base of his toes. The man fell backwards and Liam allowed his momentum to take him to the ground. His palm landed on the hilt of the knife, his fingers clasped around it, pushing through the dust and grit of the ground.

The grounded man rose and swung a backhanded right fist towards Liam. Liam stepped towards it, allowing it to thump into his side, sending the wind gushing from him and a stabbing pain to rise through his kidneys but he ignored it. His arm lashed out, the knife taking the man in his one remaining right eye. The man let out an animalistic howl and Liam jumped from the reach of his thrashing. The bleeding second man was crouched on the ground, having vainly attempted to plug his bleeding throat with his upraised tunic, his right hand pressing it to his throat. He looked comical with the tunic around his neck, his smallclothes exposed underneath, but for the oceans of blood staining the cloth. He seemed to be slowly running out of energy, crouched on his knees and left hand.

The third man had circled around and stood facing Liam, ready and waiting, halfway between himself and Racquel. Racquel still seemed groggy from Liam’s blow, and she was on her knees with one hand raised to her head. Liam bared his teeth at him slowly, his knife hand rising outwards of his side. It seemed to convince the man of something because he turned suddenly and ran in the other direction.

Liam sighed in relief and stepped in his wake before horror dawned on him and his foot paused in mid-air. The man’s right hand came down and viciously grabbed the top of Racquel’s head. Tightening onto a clump of hair, he dragged her upwards, his knife coming around to the side of her throat. Liam felt himself go white.

Time seemed to freeze for a long moment.

He had thin, sandy-coloured hair and pale, pockmarked skin, unusually pale for a native of Teruel. Thin strands of hair grew over his ears and his fringe splayed over his forehead. He had a narrow, bony face, weasel-looking and cruel. He was taller than Liam but not much, thin but wiry.

Racquel looked confused and disorientated, unable to mount much resistance. Her sleek black hair dishevelled and sprawled over her shoulders and across her face.
Why did I hit her so hard!

Liam watched silently as he lifted his knife across her neck, bringing his arm over, ready to slit back across, as the blade slowly turned towards flesh. His head seemed like an overblown melon as he waited, wavering slightly, desperately lost. Silence resounded within Liam’s head as the mad screaming and flailing of the man behind him continued and whispers traversed the street from onlookers.

The man’s eyes lifted to Liam’s and he smiled crookedly.
Don’t do it. Please don’t do it.
His heart was bursting in his chest, his knife arm had fallen down limply to his side. He dared not move an inch.

“I’ve got your bitch now!” the man spat. Liam kept his gaze, staring deep into his eyes. Racquel was moaning in his grip, still groggy. Her eyes seemed to flare open suddenly as though she had come awake. She began to struggle, her arms flashed up for the hilt of the knife. Liam’s eyes widened in panic. The man swung her from side to side, pulling her head through the roots of her hair.

But Racquel was panicking. She started to scream. Her struggles became more agitated.

“Stop struggling, you bitch, or I’ll cut your throat!” The knife pressed against her jugular, drawing a drop of blood that formed on the tip of the blade and started to roll downwards towards the hilt. She cried out in pain and pulled at the knife arm with renewed vigour.

“Racquel!” Liam screamed at her at the top of his lungs. She stopped struggling suddenly and looked around, finding him with her gaze. Liam raised his hands and faced them downwards, signalling for her to calm down. “Just … just be still, okay?”

They were ten yards away from him. Her eyes were wide with panic, she still seemed confused.
Why did I hit her so fucking hard!
The man backed away, dragging Racquel after him.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice was hoarse and crackling. “Just like that, nice and easy.”

“Stop!” said Liam, stepping after them.

“You stay right there! Or I’ll slit your girlfriend’s throat right here now.”

“No, let her go!”

The man laughed loudly. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, you’re a dead man.”

He laughed again, a forced bark. “You come near me and this bitch gets it. My boys willa heard of this scrap and they’ll be over in no time, so you better skedaddle on out of here. I’ll give this whore a good home for ye.”

“I know they’re comin’. You’re not leavin’ here with her, and you’re runnin’ out of time.”

“The second I let her go, you’re after me. Stay where you are!” The knife pressed ever harder against her throat, a second drop of blood forming on the blade. Racquel was pulling her neck from the blade as hard as she could but had no more slack to play with. Her eyes were wide, her hands, pressed against her sides, grasped at her dress, grabbing and squeezing fistfuls.

“You don’t realise, do ye!” Liam shouted at him. “You harm her! You kill her! And yer fucked!” He couldn’t allow him to take her away, but the risk, the chance, was terrifying to him. But he knew that the fear of forcing the issue was wrong, as fear was always wrong. His voice shook with the strain, breaking, becoming as high-pitched as when he was a boy. “Yer not leaving with her! You leave her here, you leave her here and ye can live!”

She was lost forever if he took her, and he was dead, as good as dead, without her by his side, there was no point, there was nothing for him. He couldn’t allow him to do it. He started to pick up the pace, closing in on him.

“Stay there, you fuckin’ shit!” Liam’s heart pounded terribly, echoing through his brain, counting out his paces for him as he moved forwards, his hands shaking. He had a sudden brainwave and he screamed it out in his panic.

“Cut her, cut her so that I’ll have to stay here with her. Cut her in the leg, I wouldn’t leave her here to bleed; I wouldn’t leave her to the gang!” The man slowed as he considered, then a certain light seemed to show on his face.

“I know a bad cut!” Liam screamed out in sudden panic, as what he said sent alarm bells ringing through his brain. He met the man’s eyes. “Cut her bad and I’ll know. I know! And I’ll come after you first, I’ll kill you before I go back to her!” The man’s eyes widened. Liam had read him right. He had been about to fatally wound her. “I’ll know! I’m not lyin’! Her leg! And not too deep!”

There were spectators all around the street, gathering, watching the scene before them. The man glanced around. Liam knew him, knew his type. He was embarrassed. He didn’t want to be seen to be scared of a boy, to be taking orders from a boy. But his friends were dead and he knew, too, that he could well be joining them soon.

“Look at me!” Liam said to him, his gaze stony. “Do it now, or I swear to Lev, you won’t die well.” His voice was no louder than it had to be for the man to hear.

Suddenly, he dropped low and cut his blade across the back of Racquel’s thigh. Racquel dropped to the floor screaming and Liam ran towards her. The man backed away quickly a few steps, his knife held out before him, his eyes on Liam to see if he would keep his word. Liam dropped down beside Racquel and looked up at the man, his eyes burning. The man turned and ran.

Liam took the knife hastily to the lower part of his tunic, cutting a strip from it roughly, sawing across, staining it with the blood on his hands. Once it was long enough, he tore it free. He bent down and looked at her thigh. The cut was deep, she would probably never walk right again. But it wasn’t fatal, or it shouldn’t be. Liam prayed that it wouldn’t. He wrapped the strip of cloth around it quickly, tying it tightly, ignoring Racquel’s cries of pain.

He looked up into her face and saw the confusion there, the hurt, the pain and something else, something he hadn’t seen before. Distrust? Her jaw was swollen shut.

“We have to go, you hear me?” Liam looked around, “Everyone … there’s too many people, everyone saw, everyone knows now. The gang knows. He’s gone,” he looked up in the direction of the escaped man. “He’s gone and he’ll tell the gang. They’ll be back. With more. We have to go now!” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You hear me? We have to go. You okay? Can you walk?” He stood up from her and tried to raise her to her feet. “We need to get back to the house. Come on, it’s not far now. We get our stuff, then we go. Someplace new.” She got up onto her feet and he put his shoulders underneath her arm and pulled her along after him.

Liam looked about at everyone on the street, watching them. Too many eyes. What to do? How to get rid of them? He put his head down and tried to increase their pace, half dragging and half carrying Racquel after him.

To Liam’s relief, no one followed them back to the house. Their alleyway was empty as they crawled through the entrance, Liam going first so that he could help Racquel through after him. The pain was clear in Racquel’s face as she dragged her damaged leg behind her, trying to keep the knee from scraping on the rough rubble of the entrance. The makeshift bandage around her thigh was stained red.

Liam looked about their small space. The pang of sadness he felt at the thought of leaving it was crushed quickly by his panic to escape. They had blankets spread out over the floor, some spare clothing, a couple of bowls and spoons for eating with, some bread, wrapped tightly in cloth against invading rodents and a pair of sandals that Racquel had insisted they buy for him, which he never wore. It wasn’t much. Liam made the easy decision to take it all.

“Stay in here until I get back, okay? Don’t go anywhere, I won’t be long, we need to leave straight away then so be ready. Grab everything here. Wrap it in a blanket and tie it off. I … I have to go.” He needed to get the money he had hidden. Get it and be gone, while he had the chance. He looked down at Racquel. She was sitting awkwardly against brick and wood, her leg spread before her, the knee slightly bent. Her jaw was swollen and bruised, her face and neck dirt-smeared along with her dress and legs. She looked back up at him, her eyes questioning, accusing. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t know why.

“Where are you …?”

“I’ll be back in half an hour, okay? Stay here. I’ll come to get you.” He ducked back out of the house; Racquel’s confused expression like an afterimage on his vision. There was no time to explain to her. They needed to leave quickly.

He raced through the slums, running with all of his might. The cache was at the corner of a secluded street. There had been a small cellar basement underneath an old brick building. It was closer to the city’s outer wall and was one of the older buildings in the District. The cellar had collapsed at some time in the past, though the building above had been repaired and was still in use. Liam had stumbled upon the entrance to the cellar months before.

It was located at the side wall of the building. There were three steps leading below the ground floor that were filled up with loose, collapsed stone. It was strangely located as there was no side entrance; however, this was ideal for Liam’s purposes. Liam had rooted through the debris and stone and found a miniature cavern of sorts hidden away beneath the rubble. Ever since, he had been depositing his treasure within it and covering it up carefully with stone afterwards. He had never liked leaving the money out of sight but he didn’t know of anywhere better to keep it.