Spade stopped in front of the door to Crow’s office and examined the X tattooed on his forearm. The X stood out as a stark black mark, no bigger than his thumb. The skin was mottled red and raw to the touch. Fresh. Practically a wound until his flesh healed.
A symbol of victory. Dral had to die before Spade could join X. That Ashe had been the one to slit Dral’s throat didn’t change Spade’s mind: Spade had earned this. This tattoo, Dral’s demise, they were his. There would be plenty more kills, but this would always be his first–and the best. Every time a pounding headache began, he fantasized about killing the fucker who had kicked him in the head until his brains rattled.
Spade pictured the pathetic heap of Dral’s body left to rot on a mattress stained by bodily fluids–piss, blood, and many more. That mattress told quite the story in the stains left behind. One couldn’t find a more degrading grave. A fitting resting place for the bastard.
Only a few weeks ago Spade would have cheered and drank himself into oblivion. But not now. Not quite. Spade’s ambitions had grown since he had stumbled into X, so blind to what was ahead of him. Spade imagined new possibilities that had never occurred to him before.
His mind flickered to the image of Charien in all of his pretentious elegance. Dral wasn’t the end of it. In fact, Dral was a small fry, low on the criminal ladder compared to the real power brokers of the Gate. There would always be more who needed to die. And so they would, and Spade’s life would only get better.
With a satisfied smirk, Spade clenched his fingers. He strode into Crow’s office, letting the door shut with a thud behind him. Crow was less than impressed as he slouched in his chair, his eyes glued to the boxing match on the TV where two men slugged at each other.
Crow clapped his hand together, languid and mocking, at Spade’s entrance. His gaze barely fluttered from the screen, as if he couldn’t be bothered. “Color me surprised. You did it. I got word that Dral was found dead in our whore house. Now, typically I would think that was Ashe’s doing--ut since it wasn’t her contract, we’ll say it’s you.”
Spade clenched his teeth at Crow’s insinuation. “So, do I get paid, or what?”
“Oh, sure.” A rueful smile spread across Crow’s face. He unfastened a key from the keyring attached to his belt and opened a drawer. He used it to open a lockbox and tossed a stack of bills on the desk. “Might wanna throw some the girl’s way. She could use it.”
You would know, was Spade’s immediate thought. Crow had a good thing going with Ashe. Her body solely funded Crow’s drinking habit, and probably more. She was convenient to have around, even if Crow held nothing but derision for her.
Spade hated to be mocked. It happened often in his life. Somebody would speak to him with a slow, belittling tone. They conveyed how worthless and stupid he was, and how they were better than him. Belsey had used it all the time. He could smell contempt a mile away.
Crow never appeared more alive than when he was mocking Spade.
“She was bait. That was it,” Spade said with an edge to his voice.
“What, you couldn’t pull the guy yourself?” Crow broke into a cackle. “Put on a skirt and strut. See what happens.”
“I killed him! I strangled him with a garrote.”
Crow’s cackling peaked, sounding shrill. He hunched over from laughter. “No. No way, not you. You’re a hundred pounds when wet. I bet he strangled you.”
Spade snatched the bills from the desk. He no longer felt the pride that had buoyed his steps when he walked in.
Annoying drunk.
“Word is that Dral’s throat was cut,” Crow said more seriously. “Clean and precise. Is that your style, kiddo?”
“Maybe. I was a guts cutter. I can use a knife.” Spade’s voice dripped with contempt. Crow should know this about him by now. Everyone should know. It wasn’t a secret.
“Messy business.” Crow let out a low whistle. He leaned back in his chair, shoes on the desk, as he resumed watching the TV. Antennas stuck out the top of the TV, struggling to capture the signal as the boxing match cut in and out. Crow cursed and wrestled with them. “Now, get out.”
Spade stalked out of the office while stuffing the kraks in his pocket. How should he even begin? He had nothing for so long that spending money didn’t come easily to him. He toyed with the idea of giving Ashe a cut. After all, he owed her for the fortune these past few weeks had been.
Yet, he couldn’t. His fingers grasped the money in his pocket. He couldn’t part with a single bill, not even to give it to Ashe. Why would he ever go back to having less?
Spade used to wonder what kind of guy he would be if he had a lot of money. Some guys went wild, spending kraks as fast as they earned them. Their night would be a whirlwind of whatever they could buy–nice shoes, expensive jackets, great food and drink, the usual debauchery–but it would all be gone in the morning. They might have a new jacket, but they were still back to the same shit life.
He never figured that he would be the kind of guy to pinch every last bill. It was funny; he only had these kraks for five minutes, and already he was surprising himself.
The money could always be taken away. He needed to find a safe place for it, perhaps back at his bunk. He eyed the few contractors he passed in the tunnel, his suspicion mounting. He couldn’t shake the thought of them ganging up on him and emptying his pockets.
Never again. He would never be got again. That died with Dral.
He kicked open the door of his room, expecting to find it empty. Knight was rarely around, preferring to hang around Norma’s lab for some reason. Ashe knew better than to hang out in her old bunk. Charien made sure of it.
Spade gagged at the thought of Charien. Creep.
The room was not empty. Spade saw Knight lying on his stomach in the bottom bunk, reading a book. The moth-eaten sweater he'd found in one of the closets fit him better now, although his trousers were still too long and the loafers too big. It was good to see his brother gaining weight, even if the process was agonizingly slow.
Spade took in the sight of red hair across from his brother and realized it was Savvy. Sav sat on the other side of the book, hunched over in a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of denim shorts. Her head was turned down as she studied the page. A sketchbook lay nearby, pencils and pens spread around it.
Spade leaned into the bunk and poked Savvy’s shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”
Knight sighed and turned the page without looking up. “Be nice. Don’t touch people.”
“What are you doing here?” Savvy retorted as she swat Spade’s hand away.
Spade stared at her, trying to gauge her intentions. People rarely took an interest in his brother, and when they did, it wasn't because of his glowing personality.
“What do you want with him?” Spade jabbed his thumb in Knight’s direction. “He can’t do anything. He’s sick.”
“Actually, I’ve been feeling better, thanks to Savvy’s cooking,” Knight piped. Savvy smirked in smug approval. “You really need to work on your manners, Spade. We’re not orphans anymore.”
“When did that happen? You see our parents anywhere around here?" Spade glanced around the room, and Knight rolled his eyes.
"You know what I mean."
"We didn't need them before, we don't need them now." ” Spade paused, before adding slyly, “I probably make more money than them combined, anyway.”
“Really?” Knight’s ears perked up. “You got paid?"
"Maybe." Spade grinned, his pride slipping in. "If you're nice to me, I might even share it with you."
He could see the excitement on his brother's face. Spare kraks in their budget was a rarity, but the boys were damned if they hadn't fantasized about spending them. "What if we bought a bookcase? There's so many books here, and I have nowhere to put them. Or we could buy Norma some equipment. She’d love that. We're really running low on beakers.”
“Slippers,” Savvy suggested. “You need them.”
“That’s right.” Knight’s eyes lit up. “My feet are freezing in the morning, especially when I go to the shower.”
“Hold on, I’m still figuring it out!” Reflexively, Spade’s hand snaked back into his pocket. He clutched the kraks tightly–protectively. “Shut up and let me think.”
“That’ll take forever,” Savvy said. “Knight’s feet are cold now.”
"She's not wrong," Knight pointed out, kicking his socked feet with a grin. Spade had never seen his brother so happy. It came close to melting his resolve to squirrel away the money. Almost.
“What is that?” Spade squinted at the page of the book between Knight and Savvy. The letters were large and there was only a sentence, but of course, he couldn’t read any of it.
What drew his attention most was the illustration of a deformed man. It was the typical kid-friendly, watercolor style Spade occasionally saw in the books at the orphanage,but something about what it depicted sent a chill down his spine.
The man was short, but not in the usual way someone was short. The man appeared as if someone had pressed the man between their hands and squished him into a squat shape. A toothy grin stretched from boney cheek to cheek. Pink shades of watercolor pooled on his cheeks and little nose. He hunched beneath a stone bridge overgrown with moss. A little girl skipped over the top of the bridge.
“What the fuck is that freak?” Spade craned his head. He knew Knight liked to read weird stuff, and Spade tried not to ask too many questions, but this creeped him out. Spade could turn a blind eye when Knight read certain books–the type filled with naughty words that were the few Spade could read and depicted shirtless men on the cover. But this little monster was unnerving.
“He’s Squat,” Knight replied.
“No shit." Spade shuddered. "I don’t like that shit. Can you throw it out?”
“It’s just a book of Arothian fables. It’s for kids,” Knight said in disbelief. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Haven’t you seen worse?”
Spade thought about this, then looked at the creature again. “No. I haven’t.”
“I can’t throw it out,” Knight said. “It’s Norma’s. She has a lot of books. She doesn’t even know where she got them all.”
“He’s such a baby,” Savvy muttered, and picked up the sketchbook.
“Get her out of here, will you? I need to do something.” Spade pulled on Savvy’s sleeve, causing her to recoil and glare.
With crossed legs and the sketchbook open in her lap, Savvy refused to move an inch. Her pen loosely sketched a woman. “You’re a dick. Knight and I have been talking.”
Spade shot a look at Knight, as if to say are you serious. Knight shrugged helplessly.
“I don’t know why Ashe likes you so much,” Savvy continued.
“She likes me? What’d she say?” Spade scooted into the bunk beside her. There was barely enough room for the both of them. They sat with their shoulders pressed together.
Savvy bristled at the invasion of her personal space, and scooted against the wall between the twins to get away. “She has bad taste, I can tell you that.”
“Okay, but what did she say?” Spade said. “What is she into?”
“She didn’t say anything. You guys are disgustingly obvious. You never stop staring at her ass. Who could miss it?”
I hope Charien sees it. Spade imagined the anger on Charien's face with satisfaction.
Savvy needled him more. “She’s been with guys before, you know. You’re not the first.”
“Who cares?” Spade said. “She’s into me now. Her history doesn’t matter.”
“We’ll see,” Savvy said with a chilled tone. “I’m sure you’ll be the exception.”
By then, Savvy had drawn a few comic panels around the doodles of women and word balloons. Spade didn’t have a chance to wonder much about this when the door opened.
Great. Another visitor. He would never be able to hide this money now. Why were people piling up here?
Ashe slipped through the door and to the bed. She sat next to Knight since there was no room beside Spade–something that disappointed him greatly. She leaned forward and smiled, easing the slight blow. “Hey, congrats! Can I see it?”
Spade hesitated, and Savvy elbowed him. “The tattoo. She’s talking about the tattoo, moron.”
Spade held out his arm, allowing everyone to study the freshly-inked X. Ashe ran her finger down the tattoo, but the flesh was still tender. He winced.
“Wow, that’s really cool,” Ashe said. “You’re one of us now. What are you going to do?”
Knight frowned. “So, that means you did it? You killed someone.”
Spade pulled his arm back. “What difference does it make? I used to harvest guts. Corpses, people. Harvest, murder. Did you prefer when Dral bashed their skulls and handed the rest to me? Because we were broke then.”
“Save it.” Knight’s good spirits dimmed. “I’ll find another way to make money on my own. Maybe I can talk to Norma.”
“Norma doesn’t have any money. She’s paying off debt,” Savvy muttered, but they ignored her comment.
“Why do you have to be so precious about everything?” Spade snapped. “I’m doing my best.”
“I want to believe that,” Knight said. “But you enjoy this, don’t you? You like it.”
“I don’t like it. I have to do what it takes to survive.” Spade sounded like he didn’t believe it himself. Perhaps he did enjoy it, a little. The moments after Dral’s death had been pure bliss. He wanted to embrace Ashe right then and there. He didn’t mind the blood.
“Who cares if he likes it?” Ashe interjected. “Don’t you want Spade to be happy?”
“Of course I do,” Knight mumbled. “But–”
“Then how?” Spade shot at him before he could finish. “If I can’t be happy now, then when? You like money, don’t you?” Spade drew the kraks from his pocket and quickly thumbed the bills. “Look, you can get slippers. Books. Whatever you want.”
The disgust on Knight's face made Spade frantic. He desperately shoved the money in Knight’s direction, ignoring how his twin cringed away. “See? This is why I do it. So we can eat. So you can get medicine, or a doctor, or something.”
Knight pushed the money back at his brother, but something must have shown on Spade's face, because Knight’s gaze softened to a pitying expression. “It’s okay. I promise. I just need to get used to things around here, I guess.”
“Not everyone can afford to be sheltered,” Ashe said. “This is life for most of us.”
“He doesn’t have to like it.” Savvy stopped sketching to express her irritation. “I don’t.”
“Like I said, sheltered,” Ashe repeated.
“Shut up,” Savvy spat. “You know the shit I’ve seen.”
“Oh, was that a big deal for you?” Ashe said. “It all blurs together for me. I sure wish I had a daddy to protect me.”
Savvy waved the pen in the air, wielding it like a weapon. “My dad never does anything!” Her voice cracked. The pen wavered. “Why the fuck do you think I'm hiding half the time? So he doesn’t notice me.”
Ashe’s resolve weakened. “I know what that’s like.”
Spade couldn’t keep up with the whiplash of emotion he witnessed between the two girls. Was that what it was like when he and Knight had a spat? Usually the twins didn’t make up so quickly. Knight could pout for days. It didn’t bother Spade. Spade tended to his brother’s needs whether he was giving him the silent treatment or not.
“Yeah.” Savvy resumed sketching, the comics now covering the entire page.
Ashe attempted to peek at Savvy’s work. “What is that? Are those the comics about girls you always draw?”
“It’s not just about girls,” Savvy said sharply.
“They’re all in love with each other,” Ashe said.
Savvy’s cheeks burned. Something clicked in Spade’s brain. She’s into girls. Spade had kissed a boy before, but it hadn’t lasted very long. It was a simple peck on the lips, done for a dare. But Spade never forgot. He watched Savvy with curiosity.
“It’s about their everyday lives,” Savvy said. “They’re roommates. And, yes, Ashe, they date each other sometimes. But it’s about them working at an electronics store. You know, where they sell tapes–”
“And porn,” Ashe said, delighted with herself.
“That was one comic!” Savvy protested. “They mostly sell music.”
“I read it.” Ashe laughed, then glanced at Spade with a coy smile. “It might be a little too raunchy for the eyes of some people.”
“You are so annoying.” Savvy threw a blunt pencil at Ashe. “There’s a zine that might publish it.”
“I think it’s great,” Ashe said, then turned to the boys. “It’s how she blows off steam. You might have noticed, but there aren’t many girls here.”
Savvy’s disgruntled scribblings increased. “No, never noticed.”
“What do you do to let off steam?” Spade asked, addressing Ashe. It struck him that he didn’t know much about Ashe: her hobbies, interests, the little things she did in her spare time. If the question sounded salacious, well, he didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure how she should take it. The childish part of him simply wanted her attention.
Ashe grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The strap of her top fell down her arm. “You know what I do.”
“Right.” Spade struggled to focus. “So what is it?”
“Action,” she said, bursting with excitement. “Like, action tapes. There’s this show about the Kraken Wars that I’m trying to finish, but I can’t find all the tapes. I can watch TV all day.”
“Kraken… Wars?” Spade asked.
“It’s not about a sea monster or anything,” Ashe explained. “It’s about pirates. They called themselves the Krakens. It was a real war that the crown fought a long time ago.”
“I read about that,” Knight said. “Everything didn’t used to be unified under the King.”
Ashe shook her head. “Books are okay. The show is better. We should watch something together sometime, Spade.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really watched TV.” Spade had seen screens in his life, but he couldn’t relax enough to let it engulf him. His attention always flitted back to the lurking threats of the real world.
“We can cuddle,” she said, as if to sweeten the offer.
Spade’s posture straightened from a lazy slouch. “Let’s do it right now. What are we waiting for?” He grabbed Ashe’s hand.
Savvy groaned and poked Spade with the end of her pen. “Go to the top bunk already. I’m tired of being crammed here with you two.”
They hopped from the bottom bunk. Spade followed Ashe up the ladder and rolled into the top bunk, squishing beside her. Ashe draped the blanket over their heads. Light from the overhead bulb seeped in through holes in the blanket, dimly shining on their faces.
Spade took out the stack of money and passed her half. “Take it,” he said, voice quiet.
She splayed the kraks on the mattress in front of them. King Jack’s imperious visage stared back, ornamenting the bills. “It’s so much.”
“It’s for everything. I know what you’ve done for me,” he said. Their voices didn’t rise above a whisper. They didn’t want to break the spell of solitude their makeshift fort offered.
Her lips parted slightly. Spade registered surprise in her gaze. “I don’t need this. I didn’t do it for money.”
“C’mon.” His tone rose in askance. “Let me do something for you, Ashe.”
“Can you keep it for me?” She slid the bills back into his pocket, fingers lingering. “I don’t want Charien to find it.”
“Yeah, I’m going to hide it where nobody will find it. Just let me know when you want it.”
Her hand trailed down his arm. The idle wanderings of her fingers ignited his blood. Her fingertips landed on his forearm, her gentle touch narrowly avoiding the inflamed area.
“Look at mine.” She showed him the tattoo on her arm. The ink wasn’t as dark as his, indicating its age. The skin had healed long ago. “I remember my first kill.”
Spade wrapped his arm around her shoulders, sensing the heaviness in her voice.l. “How did it happen?”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “A politician was leading ‘clean-up’ efforts in the Gate. You know how it is. They think we don't have families, people that care about us. A lot of people were unhappy about it. I mean, big people in the Gate, like Christiana Lenore. There was a massive bounty on his head. I guess Crow thought he could reap the rewards. Crow got intel, and he found something he could exploit. The politician had a taste for young girls.”
Spade could have recited the rest of the story before she finished. She carried on with the story, her voice reaching the low tones of remembrance. Something about her expression suggested she might cry, but no tears fell.
“I met him at some random hotel in Petri. He didn’t want it getting out. His tastes weren’t uncommon, but they were nasty. I stabbed him while he did things to me, but that wasn’t enough. I had to stab him again. And again. Blood everywhere.”
She rubbed the tattoo as if cleaning off a speck of blood. The X remained, her skin now pinkish from the friction. “I don’t know why, but I was so tired. I fell asleep next to him. He died, gurgling blood, looking at me. Even after he died, he never stopped looking at me.” She glanced at him. “That’s how I earned my X.”
Spade frowned and held her closer. He remembered the look on her face when she'd killed Dral; the dull acceptance of it all. Guilt coiled in his stomach. "I'm sorry. I won’t use you like that again.”
“You didn’t use me,” she said. “At least, not more than I let you. You didn’t make me do anything.”
He saw Dral’s death in a new light. Ashe was one of those girls you couldn’t help but break. So many people had hurt her already. She shouldered burdens like the pain didn’t faze her. Sometimes it was as if she liked being hurt, since it was so familiar. But he knew better. In moments like this, the truth shined.
“I’ll never ask you to do that again, okay?” His nails lightly dug into her skin. He wanted to smother her in his care so nobody else could hurt her. Not even him. “I promise.”
“Stop.” Her body stiffened slightly. “I’m not a baby.”
His heart sank. “I don't– I don't mean it that way. I-I don’t want to see you hurt, Ashe. I don’t–” His old stutter threatened to return. A mournful smile broke across her face.
“It’s never easy. We give up pieces of ourselves. But, sometimes, we get something back.”
Spade started to say something in response, but she pressed her lips to his. The words dissipated in his throat. She pulled away, ending the kiss as suddenly as it had begun.
“What are you going to do now that you’re a full member?” she inquired.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ve been thinking. There’s a few things I’ve always wanted to try.”
She scoffed but seemed amused. “I told you. It’s not a good idea.”
“Not like that. Not now, anyway.” He scratched his cheek. “Do you like guys with cool hair?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Why? What’s your idea?”
He ran his fingers through his brown mop of hair. Every so often he cut it with a knife, sawing it off in uneven clumps, just so he could differentiate himself from his brother. “Will you help me dye it?”
“What color? Pink? Teal? Blonde? Ombre?”
“Nah, not that. I’m sick of people mistaking me for Knight. Maybe black. Keep it simple.”
She tilted her head and patted his chin playfully. “I think that would suit you. You would look really cool.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, let’s do it!” She clasped her hands together. “This will be fun. I used to help Sav dye her hair all the time. She doesn’t dye her hair as much anymore. I miss it.”
Spade was glad to see her smile. In that moment, he would do anything to keep it.
(Illustration by MissMortuary)
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