Children Without Faces, page 16
“One thing’s for sure,” Mr. Thatcher said. “You are supposed to be dead, kinslayer.”
23
Toby scrambled to his feet, still staring at Dani, ignoring the man at his back. She cringed, looking so afraid and small and weak that he had to blink to make sure that it was still her. Dani was never afraid, not ever.
“You,” he said, turning to look at Thatcher. The man had big hands that flexed at his sides, large enough to leave marks on Dani, on her neck, on her arms, on her thighs. He swallowed hard and shook his head in disbelief. “Why?”
Thatcher frowned, his large muscular bulk blocking the doorway completely. “I have no respect for kinslayers,” he said, meeting Toby’s gaze without a shred of guilt. “Normally, I’d take you to the Watchers, let them brand you and turn you loose outside the gates.”
Toby trembled with anger, the heat building in his chest, struggling to get out. “You hurt her. You hurt Dani. Why?”
“Toby, don’t,” Dani said, her hand light on his arm, light enough that it was easy to shrug off.
“Tell me why!”
Finally, Thatcher looked to Dani, then sighed. “And, what’s worse than killing kin, I found you here with my daughter. My little girl. Why, lad, are those finger prints on her neck? What have you done to my Daniella?” The question had no anger to it — worse, Toby realized, no emotions at all showed in Thatcher’s voice. He could’ve been discussing the weather, or last night’s sleep.
“You’re not blaming your sickness on me,” Toby snarled, stepping away from Thatcher. He couldn’t spot anything in the room that could be a weapon, not a damn thing. Why didn’t Dani leave daggers and shit laying around?
The man laughed, softly. “Daniella, who put those marks on you? Tell me.”
Dani’s gaze flinched away, and she shuddered, drawing her knees tight against her chest. “Toby did, Da. He…hurt me.”
The words stabbed into his chest, and he gulped. “Dani, you don’t gotta lie.” He went to her, but she flinched away. His eyes stung with hot, angry tears, and he tried again. “I’ll stand with you, tell them what he’s been doin’ to you. Come on, Dani. Get up ’n we’ll go.”
“I’ll tell them, the Watchers, what you did,” she said, looking at him. Her large hazel eyes pleaded with him, and he couldn’t figure out why.
“And,” Thatcher said, as if nothing at all had happened, “that’s why, when I discovered you assaulting my daughter, I defended her. Pity you died in the scuffle, lad. Damn shame.” He shut the door, crossed the small room, and shoved Dani’s dresser over. His boot slammed on its curved leg and snapped it off, leaving him with a short club.
“No, Da,” Dani said, scrambling to her feet, the blanket falling away. Her shirt hung off one shoulder, the rest torn and dirty. Something dark and almost black stained her skirts, and flakes fell off as she put herself between Toby and Thatcher. “I’ll tell the Watchers, I swear I will. Toby’ll go to jail, or get thrown out of town, and you’ll never have to see him again.”
“Sadly, I’m afraid this boy has heard too much,” Thatcher sighed, shaking his head. “Step aside, Daniella. He’s your friend, so I’ll do this elsewhere. For you.”
“No,” Dani said, and her shoulders squared. “I won’t let you.”
Over Dani’s shoulder, Toby saw Thatcher’s cold blue eyes widen in surprise. “I’m going to have to punish you for this, Daniella. You know that.”
“Sick bastard,” Toby growled. Enough of this. Pushing past Dani, he lunged for Thatcher, hoping to catch him in the chest and throw him back through the window. He didn’t see the hand move, but it caught his jaw and flung him to the side.
“No!” Dani screamed, and flung herself at Thatcher. Toby picked himself up, shook his head, trying to clear it. Dimly, he saw Dani’s hand catch Thatcher’s cheek, leaving bloody scratches behind.
She grunted and fell to the ground, and then yelped when Thatcher kicked her in the side. “Run,” she gasped, looking at Toby.
He ignored her, shouted, and lunged again for Thatcher. Again, the man lashed out, but Toby managed to dodge that punch. The wooden club clipped his head, and he reeled away.
“I should beat his brains out in front of you to teach you a lesson,” Thatcher said, and sighed. “It’d leave marks on the rug, though.”
Toby groaned and tried to get up, his arm twisted painfully underneath his weight. Dani crawled over, put herself over him, looking up. “Please, Daddy please. Don’t. He’ll be good, he won’t tell, I swear. And I won’t struggle anymore, I won’t. I’ll be good, I’ll be —”
“Enough, Daniella. You’re making me sick.”
She screamed as he yanked her away, and shoved her onto the bed.
“Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Toby tried to crawl away, but Thatcher grabbed his foot and jerked him back. His chin clipped the floor, and he tasted blood as his teeth punched through his lip. The door creaked open, and Toby tried to cling onto the doorway as the man dragged him through.
Thatcher yanked, and Toby’s fingers let go. “You should’ve stopped,” Thatcher sighed. “This is going to kill your Pa.” Then, he threw Toby down the steep wooden stairs.
A blow to his head left Toby dazed, his body aching all over as he lay crumpled at the foot of the stairs. Above, he could hear Dani crying, and the sound made him sick. The stairs creaked under Thatcher’s heavy weight.
“She’s your daughter,” Toby gasped, forcing himself to look up. “How could you?”
“Because she’s mine,” Thatcher said, and he grabbed Toby by the hair and dragged him to the cellar door. The smaller door opened, and air that smelled of the grave leaked out. A whimpering sob escaped his lips and he struggled as the man grabbed him again.
The basement stairs felt sharper when he hit them, and when he finally lay at their base, the whole world spun around him. This is what it felt like to die, this sick helpless feeling, like being dragged down underneath the cold waves. Dani should’ve left him in the ocean, should’ve left him to drown. It would’ve been better than this.
The door at the top of the stairs shut, cutting off the dim light. Still, he could hear Thatcher walk down the stairs. Carelessly, the man stepped over him, like he was a piece of trash or a dying goat — unworthy of his concern. Stone ground against stone, and the smell grew stronger.
Thatcher sighed again, heavily. “You were right, lad. Something’s gone wrong in these tunnels of mine. I’m afraid that after all this is over, I’m going to have to find it and make it stop.” He walked to Toby’s side again, and his massive hand closed over Toby’s wrist.
His hand was so big, Toby thought stupidly, staring at it. The rough stone floor cut and scrapped his skin as he was dragged, the additional pain hardly noticed. Somehow, he thought he could still hear Dani screaming. He saw Thatcher hitting her, pinning her to the ground, his hands on her arms.
Stupid to get caught, so stupid. Now, Toby’d leave her all alone, and leave his Da alone completely. Thatcher was right — he should’ve let alone.
Just like he left Dem alone.
He was crying when Thatcher finally stopped dragging him, and when he let him go, Toby curled up into a ball. It hurt so bad, and he knew he couldn’t run. He couldn’t do anything.
“Pathetic,” Thatcher said. “You were always a bad influence on my Daniella.”
“Go to hell,” Toby managed to get out, struggling to speak through the pressure that still built, trying to get out.
“You gonna take that, boss?” Rat Ass asked from somewhere in the gloom. Toby’s eyes couldn’t see through the darkness, and it seemed impossible that the men could.
“Hardly,” Thatcher said. “I need you to dispose of him. I don’t believe I’m able to trust my daughter to tell the Watchers what is necessary. Best that he never be found. I’m needed above.”
“I’ll take care of it, boss,” Rat Ass said, snickering. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”
The heavy steps of Thatcher faded, and then, a flickering light flared in the darkness, illuminating Rat Ass’s ugly face. He leered at Toby, and hung the lantern on a low hook. “Well, kid. Just you and me — what say we make you squeal?”
24
Rat Ass rolled his bony shoulders and his once-white shirt clung to wiry muscles. He tossed his knife between his two hands, and came closer, squatting in front of Toby. His boots were impressively filthy, splattered with all manner of dark globs.
“This isn’t going to be fun if you don’t have more life in ya,” the man said, shoving the tip of his blade against Toby’s thigh thoughtfully. The pinprick joined the chorus of pain in his body, and his leg spasm weakly.
“Let’s see, then. You’re Weldon’s boy, right? Used to have another little snot-nosed brat that followed ya around?” Rat Ass leaned down, bringing his face into Toby’s view. “I killed him. Slit his throat when he was all alone in the dark, just like you. Sometimes, they let me play with my victims, a little. I didn’t get to then, but now…Oh, that did the trick, didn’t it?”
Anger filled Toby, enough that it drowned out the pain. The memory of the jagged wound in Dem’s throat filled his vision, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. “Liar,” he said, spitting blood from the effort. “Rider killed him.”
“That the man mucking up our tunnels? Good ta know. Naw, it was me, runt. Cut him good.”
Sitting up hurt like hell, but Toby pushed himself up and sagged back against the wall. The rough stone dug into his bruises, bringing tears to his eyes again. “Why? He didn’t do anything.”
Rat Ass shrugged again, watching Toby carefully. Slowly, he twirled his knife around, like he hoped Toby would watch the blade already wet with blood. “Dunno, boss said to. We have to keep these tunnels a secret, understand. Which means, if we hear of anyone knowing about them, I get to pay them a visit in the dark. Just like now.” He cocked his head, his grin widening. “You’ve told, haven’tcha? Who’ve you told? That girl of yours, the one Thatcher’s bedding?”
“No.” Toby jerked his head back in silent horror. The words made a horrible sort of sense, but to think of it….His mind shied away from the task, focusing on the present instead. Keep the man talking, and pray to any god listening for a way out of this mess!
“Yeah, thought you’d like that,” Rat Ass said, sniggering. “We’ve all heard her squealin’. Boss won’t pass her around, yet. I figure he will once she’s grown a bit more. How ya like that thought, her on her back, legs spread, me ruttin’ away?”
Then again, maybe suffering through the man’s talk was beyond Toby; Rat Ass’s eyes bulged as Toby’s boot caught him in the groin. It wasn’t a hard blow, force was beyond him. Still, looked like it had to hurt.
Toby sagged back, his leg on fire.
“You’ll bleed for that,” Rat Ass gasped, which Toby judged to be a pointless threat as he was apparently here to “play” as it was.
“Yeah, so you keep promisin’,” he sneered, trying to keep the anger hot to give him strength for another blow.
Rat Ass hit him, putting a surprising amount of force behind the punch. Toby’s head smacked back against the brick. “Gonna cut your legs, make sure you can’t run,” he said, his weight pinning Toby to the ground. He struggled helplessly, feeling his boots get yanked off.
Something hummed, and a fist-sized rock landed in front of Toby’s eyes, followed by Rat Ass a moment later. The man bled heavily from a wound on his forehead, his eyes rolled up, whites showing.
Freed, Toby tried to stand up, and whined as he toppled over.
“You’re all messed up, you know that?” Leaf asked, walking into the lantern’s light. “What’d they do, throw you out a window?”
“Nah, two flights of stairs. He dead?”
The girl shrugged and squatted near the thug. “I dunno. Hold on.” She put another rock into her sling and, before Toby could stop her, whirled it around and into his head again. Something cracked. “Might be now.”
Horror raced through Toby, followed by bile, and he threw up what little was in his stomach. Darkness swam in front of his vision, and he heard Leaf sigh. “I ain’t carrying your sorry arse. Can’t you walk?”
“Dani,” he said instead, swiping at his mouth. “Gotta save her. Or, Thatcher will…” he trailed off, unable to say it. His chest burned, but he pushed himself up onto his feet anyway. Those hurt too, and he leaned against the wall.
“Eil’s arse, you’re not in any shape to go save her. What are you gonna do, fall on ’em?” Leaf rolled her eyes and grabbed the fallen rocks, stuffing them into a pouch at her hip.
“Are you gonna help or not?”
“Yeah, sure, why not? Who’re we fightin’?”
“Mr. Thatcher, the roofer. He lives in the house above.” He paused, took a painful step forward, then another. His legs felt stiff, like someone had nailed logs to his limbs. Bastards. “His men killed my brother.”
Leaf grunted, and slipped underneath his arm, her shoulder supporting some of his weight. “Thought that was the Rider.”
“Me too.”
They passed near the lantern, and Leaf sensibly grabbed it, holding it in her other hand. The passageway wasn’t long, and in the light, she found the door’s latch.
“Did I ever mention how it smells down here?” she asked as the door slid open. “Almost didn’t come this way, but ya never showed at the meetin’ place. Others got worried, so I came lookin’.”
They staggered into the cellar, and Toby groaned at the sight of stairs. They were going to hurt. “How’d you find me?”
He could feel her shrug, and they started the painful trip up the stairs. The pain took the words, and the strain must’ve stolen hers, because Leaf didn’t answer until they were at the top. “I’m good at finding people.” She didn’t meet his eyes, and something in her tone made Toby drop it.
Instead, he listened at the door, hoping to hear some hint of where Thatcher was. Silence met him, and he frowned. Slowly, he opened the door and peered through. The hallway was empty and, beyond that, so was the front living area. He could see the stair’s landing, a bit of blood smeared wetly.
No Thatcher, no Dani, and no sounds of either.
His heart tightened, and he staggered out a few steps, Leaf hurrying to keep pace. They took the next stairs faster, and Toby was covered with sweat at the end of those. His legs threatened to stiffen, and his arm trembled at the effort to stay upright against Leaf.
Dani’s door lay open, her room even more messy than before. The bed was torn apart, and her window flung open. Cold wind swept through, chilling his flesh like fear chilled his soul.
“She’s gone,” he said, dumbly.
“I can see that. And Thatcher, too.” Leaf swayed to the side, leaning against the doorway. “Now what?”
“Take me to Healer Thomas,” he said, trembling from the pain. “He’ll help me.”
She shook her head, her lip curling. “I ain’t carrying you all the way there, no matter what. Let’s find a place to stash you, then I’ll go fetch him. You sure he won’t give you to the Watchers?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. I’m betting he knows I didn’t kill Dem, so I think he’ll let me go.”
“Worth a try, then,” Leaf said, far too brightly for his tastes. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
25
After a lot of arguing, Leaf helped Toby limp to Iustyn’s Hall. It was relatively close and, what’s more, it was the only public space that he thought would be empty. With the Hand gone, no one would be using the Hall, not after yesterday’s sham of a trial.
They limped around the edge, and slipped in through the back. Leaf left him with the lantern in the small library where Lane had given him the book. It seemed like an eternity ago.
But it wasn’t and now time was flying by far too swiftly. It was well after noon, and Government Square was probably bustling with activity, preparing for the evening’s execution. No, entertainment. The thought made him angry all over again.
But then, he had a lot to be angry about. The list kept on growing whenever Toby thought of it. When he found Dani, he was gonna demand to know why she’d been hiding so much from him for so long. He was damn sure that she’d known her Da had been up to no good. And, thinking back on it, he’d bet she’d started all those fights with Glen and his gang just to put marks on her flesh. Because, somehow in her mind, that was easier than explaining how her Da pinned her down and raped her.
And could he blame her? No. His heart ached, and all he wanted was to say he would be there for her. But Dani never was one for pity, or for tears.
He wanted to kick something, but all he could do was sag against the wall, too weak to move. Somehow, he thought he could hear a god laughing, and it made him sneer.
Think, he needed to think. What did he know? What could he prove?
He knew that Thatcher had Dem killed because of what he saw in the warehouse. Rat Ass had said they killed to keep the tunnels a secret, but why? Roofers didn’t need secret passageways through the town. But, he’d mentioned the ship that came in, and a shipment. Smuggling? It had to be, and if they were smuggling, then there had to be goods they were moving. There, find the goods, and he could prove that, but would that be enough to nail Thatcher on Dem’s murder?
No, and he didn’t think Rat Ass or Mole would be eager to confess. There weren’t many serious punishments in Cold Harbor that weren’t death, or banishment. They just didn’t have the room to lock men away for long.
He knew that Aaron hadn’t summoned the demon; he’d just banished it using Daivat’s power. There wasn’t any way to prove that besides leading the Watchers to the Rider. That would be proof enough, all those kids locked up, and the horrific tokens the mage kept for research.
Somehow, he had to get the Watchers to follow him. Maybe he could get them to chase him, then lead them into a tunnel? But what if they caught him before hand, and could he do it before Aaron got burned? There wasn’t long.
