been listening?”
“What? We were—I was listening to what I wanted to.”
He opened the door wider, and shut the door to the bedroom with his foot. The main room was bigger than I remembered, maybe because they had bugger all to fill it with. At least they’d managed to clear off the globs of paint that a couple of vengeful exes had decorated it with.
The remains of a meal lay on the table with a guttering candle in between the plates and I caught a hint of perfume and the glimpse of a shirt dropped carelessly on the floor by the bedroom door. Ah. Well, Pasha was going to have to wait a while longer to work on it, a fact which gave me a perverse and guilty satisfaction. Really, I should grow the fuck up.
I shut the door behind me. “Listen,” was all I said.
He stared at me for a moment, frowning, then he shrugged and twisted a finger out of its socket. It didn’t take him longer than about three seconds.
“Shit—what the hell happened?”
“Another murder. Then someone murdered a guard back. They got into the lab and…”
I couldn’t bring myself to say it, but I didn’t need to with Pasha—he lifted the words right out of my head. Probably lifted a few I’d rather he hadn’t, too, but I put on a brazen front about that. “Lise—the only decent hospital I could get her into is on fire and she needs help. You’re the only person I could think of.” Not strictly true; I knew a few nurses, very well indeed. Sadly they also knew me well enough that they’d all cheerfully strangle me.
Pasha was already rummaging in a cupboard and he came up with a familiar box. He’d spent a lot of time stitching Jake back up after the Death Matches and, if nothing else, he was damned good at looking after people. There were a few other bits and bobs in the box that might come in handy, too, painkillers for starters. I was quite tempted to ask for some myself, just to make it all go away, the black tatters on the edge of my vision, the creeping voice telling me how wonderful it would be…
Jake appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and all business, buckling on her swords. A look passed between them, that old feeling of unsaid words being spoken, of the invisible string that bound them together.
“We’re walking,” Pasha said to me before I could suggest a quick spell. I think he’d seen a lot more than I’d thought in my head. “And bad news like Jake soon gets around.”
Good, because maybe that would help us through quicker. I couldn’t help jiggling, wanting to run, but it would be useless—and dangerous. A running man in a riot is a target for everyone, but especially guards. We wouldn’t do Lise any good if we were arrested, or mobbed.
By the time we’d gone up two levels, I was glad Jake was with us for more than something nice to look at. The gangs had moved down now. There was a lot of furtive running in and out of doorways and more and more came to swell the angry numbers clotting in lumps on the walkways. A lot of Downsiders in this area. Some of them had crude torches made from whatever wood they’d been able to find and the flickering orange glow made faces demented in the dark.
Jake stalked towards them like a tiger and they fell back, muttering, to let us past. A legend she’d been in the ’Pit, a Death Matcher like no other, and while they didn’t know it’d mostly been faked, it didn’t matter because, when cornered, Jake fought like Namrat himself and her swords were for more than show. Especially now, when anger radiated off her like a cloud and her hands were twitching on the hilts of those swords. Angry at the world and everything in it—in other circumstances, she’d have been one of the mob, would have been leading them, no doubt.
My back prickled when the mob turned and followed us, and I imagined the stab of a knife, the thud of something big and heavy on the back of my head. Felt the built-up hate with a focus now. It seemed to charge the air like Lise’s
“What? We were—I was listening to what I wanted to.”
He opened the door wider, and shut the door to the bedroom with his foot. The main room was bigger than I remembered, maybe because they had bugger all to fill it with. At least they’d managed to clear off the globs of paint that a couple of vengeful exes had decorated it with.
The remains of a meal lay on the table with a guttering candle in between the plates and I caught a hint of perfume and the glimpse of a shirt dropped carelessly on the floor by the bedroom door. Ah. Well, Pasha was going to have to wait a while longer to work on it, a fact which gave me a perverse and guilty satisfaction. Really, I should grow the fuck up.
I shut the door behind me. “Listen,” was all I said.
He stared at me for a moment, frowning, then he shrugged and twisted a finger out of its socket. It didn’t take him longer than about three seconds.
“Shit—what the hell happened?”
“Another murder. Then someone murdered a guard back. They got into the lab and…”
I couldn’t bring myself to say it, but I didn’t need to with Pasha—he lifted the words right out of my head. Probably lifted a few I’d rather he hadn’t, too, but I put on a brazen front about that. “Lise—the only decent hospital I could get her into is on fire and she needs help. You’re the only person I could think of.” Not strictly true; I knew a few nurses, very well indeed. Sadly they also knew me well enough that they’d all cheerfully strangle me.
Pasha was already rummaging in a cupboard and he came up with a familiar box. He’d spent a lot of time stitching Jake back up after the Death Matches and, if nothing else, he was damned good at looking after people. There were a few other bits and bobs in the box that might come in handy, too, painkillers for starters. I was quite tempted to ask for some myself, just to make it all go away, the black tatters on the edge of my vision, the creeping voice telling me how wonderful it would be…
Jake appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and all business, buckling on her swords. A look passed between them, that old feeling of unsaid words being spoken, of the invisible string that bound them together.
“We’re walking,” Pasha said to me before I could suggest a quick spell. I think he’d seen a lot more than I’d thought in my head. “And bad news like Jake soon gets around.”
Good, because maybe that would help us through quicker. I couldn’t help jiggling, wanting to run, but it would be useless—and dangerous. A running man in a riot is a target for everyone, but especially guards. We wouldn’t do Lise any good if we were arrested, or mobbed.
By the time we’d gone up two levels, I was glad Jake was with us for more than something nice to look at. The gangs had moved down now. There was a lot of furtive running in and out of doorways and more and more came to swell the angry numbers clotting in lumps on the walkways. A lot of Downsiders in this area. Some of them had crude torches made from whatever wood they’d been able to find and the flickering orange glow made faces demented in the dark.
Jake stalked towards them like a tiger and they fell back, muttering, to let us past. A legend she’d been in the ’Pit, a Death Matcher like no other, and while they didn’t know it’d mostly been faked, it didn’t matter because, when cornered, Jake fought like Namrat himself and her swords were for more than show. Especially now, when anger radiated off her like a cloud and her hands were twitching on the hilts of those swords. Angry at the world and everything in it—in other circumstances, she’d have been one of the mob, would have been leading them, no doubt.
My back prickled when the mob turned and followed us, and I imagined the stab of a knife, the thud of something big and heavy on the back of my head. Felt the built-up hate with a focus now. It seemed to charge the air like Lise’s
Similar Books
