Read Principles of Angels Online
Authors: Jaine Fenn
Principles of Angels (17 page)
Limnel picked up the box and looked hard at Taro. ‘So what’d ya do today to earn yer reward, boy?’
Though he hated himself for it, Taro suddenly realised he’d do almost anything for another hit of that golden dust. He took a long, slow breath and said, ‘Nothin’, p’rhaps. But I meant what I said. I’ll do me best fer you, fer the troupe. If that means workin’ harder than the gang members who’ve been ’ere a while, that’s prime. Sorry I went off today, but I earned m’share fer the day and I ’anded it over. I’m payin’ me way, like I said. An’ I’ll be up on the streets again tomorrow.’
‘Pretty speech,’ said Limnel, opening the box on his lap. ‘Time’ll tell if it’s more than words.’ He dipped the spoon into the box. ‘C’mere, then.’
Taro’s mouth was actually watering. The pile of powder on the spoon was small, far less than Keron’d given him last night, but he couldn’t look away from it.
‘I’m not gonna stand up, y’know. Not at this time of night. Ya gotta kneel down.’
Taro hesitated, then fell to his knees in front of the gang-boss. Limnel slipped the spoon under his nose. Taro sniffed.
The rush wasn’t as rich or long this time, but the pain and exhaustion were instantly gone, and the world was a better place again. He stayed kneeling, one hand out for balance, lost in the high, while Limnel put the box away. The distant laughter of the gang members rose and someone pushed him gently. He slid over to sprawl onto his side in the cushions. He lay there for a while, numb and happy.
After some time had passed, he looked up to see Limnel bending over him. Limnel leaned closer and drawled, ‘One thing yer ain’t got netted yet: ya can’t serve two masters.’
Taro was still trying to make sense of the boss’s comment when the bead curtain rattled behind him. He pulled himself round to see Keron standing in the doorway, holding the arm of a girl whose hair hung down over her face. ‘Crash’ll hit soon: anyone else wanna go while she’s still conscious?’ he asked loudly. The girl just stood there.
Limnel addressed the room. ‘Anyone? Resh? Thought ya might. Can’t keep off the grind, can ya, Resh m’boy? Leave ’er down the corridor when yer done, neh? Don’t want ’er disturbin’ the other whores again.’
Keron dragged the girl away and Resh stood shakily, ready to follow.
Taro wasn’t so stoned that he couldn’t pity the poor bitch, whoever she was. He sat up, keeping his head bowed, trying not to attract attention.
‘Well, yer ain’t exactly the life an’ soul, are ya?’ Limnel was watching him again.
He nodded at the boss. ‘Reckon that last batch was a bit smoky. I’d complain to me supplier, if I was you.’
Limnel snorted. ‘Very funny. Plenty more where that came from, if yer a good boy. But if yer straightenin’ out, why don’t ya make yerself useful? Get yer arse down to the room where yer fucked our regular last night, wait outside until Resh has finished - doubt that’ll be long - then go in an’ keep an eye on Arel. Make sure she don’t do nothin’ gappy when the gear wears off, neh?’
‘Aye, boss.’ Taro struggled up, his limbs more or less under his control again.
Outside the meeting hall he turned left, hoping he’d remember the way, and sighed with relief when he spotted the familiar mesh-curtained doorway, beyond the locked door and just before a narrow gap in the floor. The noises from behind the curtain made it clear he was in the right place. He sat against the wall, feeling tired and dizzy and not so high at all any more, until Resh emerged, tying his breeches.
He looked down at Taro and laughed. ‘Not much left fer you, Angel-boy.’ He sauntered off, back towards Limnel’s room.
Taro drew a deep breath, lifted the curtain and went in.
The room reeked of bad sex. The girl lay curled on one corner of the mattress, half under the blanket, her clothes in a pile by the door.
As the mesh curtain dropped back into place with a faint swish, she whimpered and pulled herself into a tighter ball.
‘Not gonna hurt you,’ said Taro quietly.
No response. He’d bet others’d told her that today, and lied.
‘Yer name’s Arel, ain’t it?’
She didn’t move. Well, he wasn’t going to spend the night standing in the doorway. His legs and head were starting to ache again. ‘I’m guessin’ they gave you a shitload of dope, and fer a while you din’t care no more. That right?’
That could’ve been a nod. He took it as a good sign and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She shivered and edged away. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not gonna touch you. Just wanna talk. The thing you gotta understand ’bout grind like that is that what you did when you was blasted - what
they
did to you - it don’t count. Not really.’
they
did to you - it don’t count. Not really.’
She muttered something and he moved a little closer. ‘What’s that?’
‘Yer used to it,’ she repeated, almost whispering. ‘Prob’ly think a bit of grind with an ugly-fuck punter is pure blade.’
That was nice. But at least he’d got a response. ‘No, I don’t. But I know how to deal with it. They ain’t fuckin’
you
, they’re fuckin’ their mothers or their ex or their best friend or’ - he laughed shallowly - ‘if they ain’t got no imagination - like that piece o’ shit Resh - they’re just fuckin’ a warm, moist hole. It ain’t nothin’ personal. You gotta remember that. You let yer body do its stuff, but whatever the punters do, it’s just flesh fer cash. They can’t touch you, the
real
you, not if you don’t let ’em.’
you
, they’re fuckin’ their mothers or their ex or their best friend or’ - he laughed shallowly - ‘if they ain’t got no imagination - like that piece o’ shit Resh - they’re just fuckin’ a warm, moist hole. It ain’t nothin’ personal. You gotta remember that. You let yer body do its stuff, but whatever the punters do, it’s just flesh fer cash. They can’t touch you, the
real
you, not if you don’t let ’em.’
Until Scarrion
. No, he wasn’t going to think about that bastard right now. This girl needed him to be strong, so he had to forget the shit in his own life and help her.
. No, he wasn’t going to think about that bastard right now. This girl needed him to be strong, so he had to forget the shit in his own life and help her.
She rolled onto her back, arms still clasped tight round her knees. Her face showed a nasty collection of scratches and bruises. He thought her right eye had been hurt bad, ’cause it looked too big, until he realised this was an old scar, perhaps even something she’d been born with. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling. ‘No, you don’t understan’.’ She laughed hollowly. ‘I ain’t meant to do this, y’see. Daim and me worked the rollers together. Nothin’ violent or heavy. He’d distract ’em while I palmed them, or sometimes we’d buzz stupid loners with no guard. We were
good
at it. Pure blade. But Daim’s gone now.’ Tears started to leak out of the corners of her eyes. On the right side they gathered in the gap of her scar before tumbling across her cheek. ‘He’s dead and I’m alone now and I’m nothin’,
nothin’
. I’m only useful fer fuckin’ strangers now.’ Her sing-song voice died away. Taro knew that look. He was losing her.
good
at it. Pure blade. But Daim’s gone now.’ Tears started to leak out of the corners of her eyes. On the right side they gathered in the gap of her scar before tumbling across her cheek. ‘He’s dead and I’m alone now and I’m nothin’,
nothin’
. I’m only useful fer fuckin’ strangers now.’ Her sing-song voice died away. Taro knew that look. He was losing her.
‘Arel,’ he said urgently, ‘Listen to me. You ain’t nothin’. You said it yerself: yer brave and clever and—’
She was back, riding on anger. ‘Don’t shit me, just fuckin’ don’t! Right?’
‘Right.’ This would be easier if she wasn’t smart and he wasn’t stoned.
‘But what about that shit they gave me? Jus’ like you said: enough of the dust and nothin’ matters. Anythin’ anyone wanted was top prime. But I . . . I need more of it if I’m gonna survive. Look.’ She held out her hand; it twitched and jittered. ‘Look at that.’
‘Tell me ’bout it.’
She looked at him properly for the first time, eyes widening as she focused on the Angel colours in his hair. ‘Hey, could ya get me more of that gear?’
‘I wish.’
‘Ah. You ain’t one of Limnel’s special boys then. Yer new, ain’t ya?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘Been told to watch me, huh? Make sure all that powder Keron sorted fer me don’t go to waste?’
Taro nodded.
‘Right. So could ya mebbe get me a drink? This stuff leaves yer with a killer thirst.’
‘I know. I’ll get yer some water.’ He thought he’d seen a waterskin on a peg near the locked door. He levered himself up and set off. Half a dozen steps down the corridor he stopped, turned and waited.
Arel came out of the curtain on all fours, bare arse in the air. Under other circumstances it might’ve been funny, but now, as she threw herself down the corridor towards the nearest gap in the floor, it was just pathetic.
Taro raced after her and half-grabbed her, half-fell onto her. She shrieked and flailed, catching him in the balls with her elbow, and a jagged spike of pain went off in his groin. He almost let go of her, but even if he wasn’t under orders from Limnel, there was no way he’d let her kill herself, not on his watch.
He clung fast, ducking her blows, until the fight started to go out of her, then he dragged her back into the room, praying he’d get her calmed down before anyone came to check on what the noise was - assuming anyone even cared.
He got them back to the mattress and sat himself up against the wall, the girl in his lap, holding her fast in his arms until her struggles finally stopped and she lay still. Her skin was cold and clammy and now she’d given up fighting the shakes were starting. He could feel himself twitch in response.
She whispered, ‘Way I see it, there’s two choices. Either Keron keeps me in the dust forever so I’ll be anyone’s meatbaby fer a hit, or I take the fall. I’m thinkin’ number two’s most likely. Even wasted, I don’t wanna think about some o’ the pigs I’ve hadda fuck. Whaddya think? You bin nice to me, so I promise not to run again while yer watching me, but I think that’s how it’ll be, in the end.’
Like she’d said herself, there was no point shitting her. ‘I think there’s a coupla other options,’ Taro said quietly. ‘First is: you learn to deal with being a whore. I meant what I said, it ain’t as bad as people think. You just gotta get used to it.’
‘Aye, right and fine when yer’ve got an Angel to pimp fer ya.’
‘Me line-mother’s dead, Arel - or hadn’t you heard?’
She relaxed into him for the first time. ‘Aye, I ’ad. Sorry.’
He continued, ‘The other choice is you learn to act, just enough so’s Keron an’ Limnel let down their guard. When they’re not watchin’ so close, you run. Got anyone you can go to?’
She shook her head, wincing at the pain as she did so. ‘Nah. I was born into the troupe. Daim had people though, sunwise of here, under Chance Street. Mebbe they’d take me in.’
For the first time he heard hope in her voice. Then she laughed. ‘’Course, both those plans rely on me not jumpin’ on the spoon next time they offer me a fix.’
‘You and me both,’ murmured Taro into her hair.
She turned and buried her head in Taro’s chest, crying, sniffles soon growing to great body-shaking sobs. Taro felt tears leaking from his own eyes, crying for her, crying for himself.
After a while she raised her head. ‘You can let go now. Promise I won’t run.’ She slumped down onto the filthy mattress. ‘Couldn’t, even if I wanted to.’
Taro lay down next to her. She turned, and he put his arms round her loosely. She sighed, relaxing, and he listened to her breathing grow slow and even until he fell asleep as well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elarn was not sure if it was the wine or the sheer relief of having given a good performance, but last night’s dreams had been a lot more enjoyable than her recent nightmares. She could not remember the last time she’d woken up feeling like this - actually she barely remembered the last time she had felt this way about anyone . . . she’d not experienced this sort of quivery anticipation for seven years, in fact. Salik Vidoran was something special . . . and, potentially, a very useful contact. Of course she had no intention of involving him directly in her real reason for coming to Vellern, not if she could avoid it, but just getting close to someone who knew how the City worked could make things much easier when the time came to complete her mission.
But dreams like last night’s also left her a little uncomfortable - the residual guilt of a Salvatine upbringing was hard to shake. The feelings of shame and unease from her sensual dreams clung to her. She got up and took a long shower, dialled to a cooler setting than was quite comfortable, but even after the shower she was still too restless to practise, so she went out for a walk.
Her hotel was about a kilometre from the rimwards end of Lily Street and she set off briskly. Few people were about this early; she saw maintenance men working on one of the streetlights, and cleaner bots scooping up rubbish. She thought she should be safe enough in the Guest Quarter, but she kept her eyes open and gave the sidestreet entrances a wide berth.
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