"Shit." The sky was fully black when Spade left the pawn shop. Swarths of dark clouds blocked out the glow of the moon and stars, casting Hells Gate into shadow. The wind had momentarily subsided, but everyone knew the quiet forebode the heavy winds that would soon hurl across Hells Gate. It was the calm before the storm. "Fuck!"
"What's wrong?" Ashe had already begun to pick through the stolen goods in her purse. Spade had to wonder if she'd even noticed what she'd shoved in there or if the items had been chosen at random.
"It's late," Spade said, anxiety leaking into his voice. He'd wasted the entire day. "Knight's probably already asleep. Shit. I told him I'd be back by now–and the storm, fuck!"
"Your brother?" Ashe guessed. She applied a layer of lipstick from her purse and checked it in a compact. Spade couldn't tell which of the items she'd taken from the store. Probably both. "Why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
He met her gaze, frustration waning as a new implication took over his thoughts. "Sure."
She laughed. "Not like that. I mean, why don't you stay with me? You can bring your brother."
Spade hesitated. "That sounds nice, but you're from X, aren't you?"
"So?"
He bit his tongue. No. X tended to stick to sex work and hired hits, but Spade only had experience in the guts trade. If an offer seemed too good to be true, it probably was. "What are you getting out of it?"
Ashe looked up at him, hurt. "I thought we were having fun together."
"We are." Spade's heart eased a little. His guard was slipping. "I still don't know anything about you, though."
She smiled. "You know my name."
The wind picked up. Ashe snapped her purse closed and hoisted it over her shoulder. "Well, are you going to stay with me, or is this where we say goodbye?"
Spade searched for an answer. Ashe was pretty, the perfect kind of face to lure eager boys to their deaths. Spade had lived in the Gate long enough to know that a pretty smile could hide a sharper knife–especially from No. X.
Of course, the storm could do that, too. A flier whipped by him, swirling in the violent currents until it slapped around a streetlight's pole. He imagined Knight, light as he was, picked up by that very wind and tossed into the sea.
"Yeah, we’ll stay with you. Me and my brother." Spade nodded slowly, as if to convince himself that this was the right decision.
Ashe snapped her compact shut. "Great. Let's get him."
+++
The King's Pawn Shop wasn't too far from the orphanage. Spade rounded the streets with ease, his attention fractured between the search for his brother and the blonde girl beside him. The longer they walked in silence, the greater his anxiety became. He needed to talk about something–anything–to beat back the growing suspicion in his gut.
"So, your boyfriend?" he said. Ashe looked at him in confusion. "You mentioned having one at the pawn shop."
"Oh. That." There was a bitterness in her voice, but the streets were too dark to make out her expression. "He's not really my boyfriend, he's more like–like a mentor, I guess. If he has to be anything." She mumbled something else under her breath, but he couldn't catch it.
"Mentor and boyfriend are pretty different, aren't they?"
"Maybe when sex isn't involved." She sighed and played with her hair. "It's not like I like it, but I don't have much of a choice."
Spade shifted uncomfortably. He'd suspected the possibility–it wasn't an uncommon situation in the Gate–but it was upsetting to hear. "Is it someone from X?"
"Who else?" Ashe scoffed. "His name's Charien. You know him?"
"About him, yeah." Everyone knew Charien the Executioner. He was one of the most infamous, elusive assassins in Hell's Gate. He had made quite the name for himself before Spade had been born, but his name lived on through whispered rumors and hushed tales of the boogeyman crawling through their windows. Children swapped stories of his kills like candy, repeating tales they'd overheard from their parents in an effort to scare each other, while older generations avoided his name more than the plague spreading through the streets.
Spade guessed that most of the stories were exaggerated, but he didn't discount them entirely. There was always some truth to rumors like that. No wonder she didn't want to go home.
"I have my own room," Ashe continued. "One of the perks of… of being close to someone like that. What he says goes." Then, under her breath, "Everyone's afraid of him." Venom touched on the word.
"Are you?" Spade asked.
Ashe paused. As Spade's eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that she was staring ahead, lost in thought. She answered carefully, "No, not anymore. He's already done the worst he can. I wish he would just kill me."
"I know what you mean," Spade said before he could think twice about it. His gait slowed, his steps uneven. The morning he woke up in the corpse cart crept to the forefront of his mind. He could still smell the rotting odor of death in his nostrils as the memory returned. "I used to run with the Youths, but I did something they didn't like, so they beat me and threw me into a corpse cart."
Ashe nodded. "I noticed the bruises, but I didn't want to ask."
Spade touched the bruises on his neck. Something pulsed within him, deep-seeded and loathing. None of it was fair: the Gate, Dral, the plague that ran rampant through the streets–things that the rest of Petrone kept tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. Why was this his fate? How was it that he always got stuck at the bottom of a barrel even the rats wouldn't touch?
"Why does Dral get to decide who gets the shit beaten out of them? I did good work for that shithead," he said bitterly. "I cut the guts out of whoever he asked–but even I have standards. I couldn't gut that kid. I still have to sleep at night, you know?"
"Nothing in life is fair," Ashe agreed. "That's how it is. Dral, Charien–they take what they want. Damn the rest. There's nothing they can't have as long as they’re on top. You have to be tough."
Spade's footsteps slowed. "What are you saying? I should be more like those jerks?"
Ashe shrugged. Even in the dim light, he could see the shimmer of a tear on her cheek before she wiped it away. "Why don't you try being the guy that gives the beating instead of taking it? I'm telling you how it is; I've always been close to violent men. Fuck, I have to sleep with them, so I know how they succeed."
She didn't say anything else, instead quickening her pace to get ahead of him even though she didn't know where they were going. Spade stared at his feet as they walked. He knew what she meant; he was weak and, if he ever wanted to survive–to help his brother survive–he had to toughen up. He should've been the one tossing Dral on the corpse cart, not the other way around.
The bruises on his flesh and incessant pounding in his head brought with them a new sense of shame. Spade was used to being the victim, but wasn't he capable of more?
His thoughts were still swimming when the orphanage pulled into view. Drunken Blackhearts loitered outside, their laughter and fancy cigarettes grating his senses. Spade glared at them as he passed, well aware that Knight would not be found inside. Most of the other kids had already taken up their usual spots, sheltered between trees and alleyways, out of sight from Belsey or her guests. Disgust and pity churned in Spade's stomach when they trembled at a crack of lightning.
"We can't take them," Ashe said.
"I didn't ask you to."
"I can see it on your face." She looked at the children with a frown but kept walking. "I'll be lucky to get you and your brother in. Where is he, by the way?"
Spade scanned the streets. Anyone smart had found shelter by now, and the ones that didn't were too far gone to care. Knight was nowhere to be seen. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen him."
Ashe sucked on her teeth and looked up at the sky. "We can't stay out here much longer."
"I know."
His shame receded into anxiety as Spade picked up the pace, his eyes darting from one street to the next. Knight wasn't good at making long distances on his own, so he had to be nearby. He thought of Dral and all of the other scavengers that lurked in the east side of the Gate. Knight was easy pickings; something that Spade had been able to protect him from as a part of Dral's crew. Now that he'd been kicked out…
Shit.
"Knight," Spade called out through cupped hands. "Knight!"
He ran to the frantic beat of his heart, practically tripping over his own feet. The rain had already started to pour–a light drizzle for now, but it wouldn't take long for the rest to come. The Gate's layout wasn't helping; the streets were designed to be confusing to anyone that wasn't familiar with them, an easy trap. Spade was intimately familiar with them, but between the rain and his pounding head, the mental map he carried might as well have been ripped to pieces.
Ashe, thankfully, didn't complain. She followed behind in silence and Spade had to wonder if she was regretting her invitation. He half-expected her to disappear between the claps of thunder.
Spade skidded past another alley only to catch himself when he saw a pale lump huddled up against the dumpster. His breath cut short. Knight was perfectly still, tucked under pieces of soggy newspaper as he remained slumped against the metal. It was only when Spade approached that he noticed his brother trembling in his sleep and let out a sigh of relief.
"Knight." Spade crouched down and jostled his brother's shoulder. "Get up. You're not sleeping in the street tonight."
Knight blinked groggily at him, but there was a hint of relief in his sarcastic response, "Why? Am I dead?"
"Yeah," Spade said, matching his tone. "You were strung up in the square. Real nasty shit."
"That's a new one." Knight hooked his arm around Spade's shoulder as his brother helped him to his feet. "Kind of a rough way to go out, though."
"Could be worse."
"You're right; I could look like you. A pure nightmare."
"Oh, the worst."
Knight chuckled under his breath, but Spade could hear the ragged edge of a cough hiding underneath. Knight pulled away once he was steady on his feet, but Spade kept his arm hovering nearby, just in case.
Ashe cleared her throat. "So this is the infamous twin?"
Knight hesitated, noticing Ashe for the first time. "Excuse me, who are you?"
"She's going to help us," Spade answered for her. Ashe smiled in confirmation.
Knight did not seem so convinced. "Why would she do that?"
Spade glanced at Ashe, his answer dissipating in his mouth. He truly didn't know. Her answer from earlier had seemed vague at best, misleading at worst. "I…"
"Here." Ashe unlatched her purse and handed Knight the compact TV. His eyes widened in surprise. "I helped your brother get that for you. We couldn't get a tape player, but we'll figure something out."
"Where did you get this?" Knight turned the TV over in his hands, the furrow in his brow easing as his fingers passed over the straight lines. Spade could see his brother's skepticism fade the longer he admired the device. "Sorry, I mean–thanks."
"Sure," Ashe said, already leaving the alley. "Let's get out of here. I'm drenched."
"Wait." Knight tugged on Spade's arm before he could catch up to her. "What about Coren?"
"He'll be fine," Spade insisted. "You know his boss helps him out. He's probably staying at the butcher's tonight." That seemed the most likely case, anyway. Coren helped out with Knight when he could, but Spade knew they had to look out for themselves first.
Knight cradled the TV to his chest and used the thin fabric of his shirt to help protect it from the rain. "Are you sure–"
"Even if we did take him, we don't have time to hunt him down, alright?" Spade snapped. "It's raining now. I'm not getting caught in a hurricane."
Knight lingered for a moment longer before nodding his agreement. Coren would manage, as he usually did. As they all had to.
The twins hurried after Ashe into the night.
+++
It did not take long for the storm to pick up. Wind whipped at their backs as Spade and Knight followed Ashe along the narrow path through Hells Gate, passing squat buildings and crumbling streets that grew few and far between the longer they traveled. It wasn't until they hit the wooded outskirts of the city that Spade wondered if he'd trusted the wrong person.
Trees rocked in the wind while their leaves flew on agitated currents of air. Rain pelted them, making it difficult to see, and the walk was long enough that Spade had to wrap his arm around Knight and support his weight. The deeper they ventured the woods, the more trees blocked the wind.
It didn't comfort Spade in the slightest.
Where is she taking us? It wasn't a secret–at least to people in the Gate–that No. X infiltrated the abandoned Catfell Aqueduct tunnels. The aqueduct system had long been in disrepair ever since the Catfell River dried up over half a century ago. All of the known entrances were heavily guarded by X enforcers.
Known entrances. Ashe slowed down as they came upon a thicket and, up ahead, Spade could barely make out a building wrapped in vines. The foliage was so thick that it appeared to be part of the natural landscape, but the storm had blown some of nature's embrace away, revealing its secret.
"This is how I sneak in and out," Ashe said. She opened a door and gestured for the boys to go through. Once they were inside, the wind slammed the door shut behind them. "One second."
After a moment in pitch black, Ashe clicked on a flashlight.
The room was small and cramped, dust motes dancing in the beam of the flashlight. Tucked in the corner was a small canvas cot beside a rusted toolbox and a thermos. Moss broke through the cracks in the stone floor, making for an uneven surface, but Spade didn't mind. It was perfect; Knight could take the cot while he slept on the floor. The storm outside would be no more than a lullaby rocking them to sleep.
Ashe snatched a metal key from inside of the toolbox and pointed her flashlight towards a metal door on the far wall that Spade had missed in the darkness. Ashe stuck her key in and pushed it open, revealing the tunnels.
Spade gaped at the dark depths of the tunnels' ceiling. Arches ornamented in filth, buttressed by steel beams that crisscrossed in the center, gave the appearance of a grand entrance to the grimiest place Spade had ever seen.
Knight stayed close to his brother's side. He didn't look nearly as impressed as Spade did.
"What have you gotten us into?" he whispered. If he was having doubts, it was too late now. They made their way, footsteps echoing against the cavernous walls, until Ashe held up her hand to stop them.
"Over here," she said, crouching down. A small, round service door was half-hidden in the recess of the wall.
"Are we supposed to go through that?" Spade asked doubtfully.
"You'll fit," Ashe promised. She was already bent over and pushing against the door. Spade crouched down and joined her, although he quickly realized that his help wasn't necessary; it was obvious she'd used this escape route many times before.
They maneuvered through the small door one-by-one into a storage room. A strip of light underneath the door across from them revealed shelves of cleaning supplies and a tattered broom.
Knight crawled through last, coughs racking his body. He muffled the sound by burying his face in his arms. Spade placed a hand on his brother's back, rubbing comforting circles through Knight's thin t-shirt with his thumb. Guilt tore into him; this was more physical activity than Knight had done in years. He could feel Knight's ragged breathing under his palm as the night took its toll on him.
"Almost there," Ashe mouthed, her words barely above a whisper. She peeked through the door's gap. "Just act like you belong here–most guys that come in these days are contractors, so no one'll think any different."
The news surprised Spade. No. X had once been exclusive, harder than even the Lenores to get into. "What happened to all the legendary assassins?"
"Hiding or dead. Forget the stories you've heard; things aren't the way they used to be." He caught a glimpse of her smile in the dark. "I'm the best around here now."
"You? Are you serious?" Spade couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice. She had a little bit of muscle, but she was gangly and small, hardly a fit for the mental picture Spade had of a legendary assassin in his head.
"You'll see." Ashe stood with her chin up, her smile mischievous. "Let's go, boys."
+++
Ashe's room was located near one of the main accessway tunnels, situated close to the training rooms. The bedroom itself was small with a set of metal bunks bolted to the far wall and discarded clothes that seemed to hang everywhere except in the closet. A small TV played a detective show, although Spade noted with interest that a gaming console had been hooked up underneath.
Spade helped Knight onto the bottom bunk while Ashe left to get food. Exhaustion wore him down, beckoning him to join his brother on the bed. His muscles ached; he could only imagine how Knight felt. His brother's ragged breathing calmed as his body sunk into the mattress. It was far better than any cot they were used to.
Knight balanced the portable TV on his stomach, regarding it with awe. Spade collapsed beside him. Knight shifted closer to the wall, his earlier trepidation diminished as he took in Ashe's almost-normal room.
"I can't believe we're here," he whispered. Spade grunted in response. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head. It would not cease. It hadn't for days. Spade clenched his fists against his sides as he fought off the pain. He managed to ignore it when the threat of the storm was on his heels, but now that the quiet crept in, so did the reminder of fists against his skull. He felt his brother move beside him, hovering. "Spade? Are you okay?"
Aroth, he must have looked worse than he thought. Spade grit his teeth, forcing his voice to remain even. "I kept my promise, didn't I? We're not sleeping in the storm tonight."
Spade didn't need to look at his brother to feel the concern emanating off of him, either wishing to scold Spade or hug him. Spade hated both options. He knew he should've seen a doctor when the pain started–but if they couldn't afford one for Knight, what was the point of seeing one himself?
Knight must have been thinking the same thing, but he kept quiet. This was not an argument either of them wanted to get into tonight.
"It was nice of her to let us stay in her room. Ashe, right?" Knight tested the name with as much positivity as he could muster. Spade could feel his brother's guard coming up. "I wonder why she would help us? Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Spade cracked an eye open to glare at him. "Why would anyone help us, Spade? Think about it."
"Fuck if I know. Why does it matter?" Spade rolled onto his side, away from Knight. "Can't you just let me have this? You act like I have all these options, but I'm just trying to make sure we survive. Why can't you appreciate that?"
Guilt immediately washed over Spade and, despite the pounding in his head, he reluctantly looked over his shoulder. Knight stared at his lap, the black screen of his portable TV reflecting the hurt on his face.
Damn it. Why did he always have to snap at him?
"I'm sorry," he said. Knight reluctantly met his gaze. "Today's been tough on you. I know that. I just–I'm doing the best I can."
"I know," Knight spoke softly. "Doesn't mean you get to be an ass."
"I'm always an ass."
"I know that, too." A small smile broke out on his face–Spade was forgiven–before falling again. "I just hope you know what you got us into. Even with the best intentions, Ashe works for X. She's a killer."
"What do you think I do all day?" Spade groaned. “I’m a killer, too, Knight.”
Knight bit his lip but didn't argue. Spade supposed his brother always knew, but they'd never spoken about it aloud. The reality of Spade's work was a wall that had been built between them, a discussion of taboo that both boys were content leaving untouched lest it fall on top of them. Knight did not ask too many questions and Spade was content living in half-truths even to himself. His brother wasn't stupid–the money had to come from somewhere–but Spade wondered how much hope Knight had been holding onto that his twin had amounted to something more.
Ashe arrived then, her skinny arms full with a tray of food. Spade's stomach growled. Aroth, when was the last time he had a decent meal? Maybe never.
Knight start to thank her, but Ashe shook her head, motioning for them to be quiet. Spade's muscles tensed and, despite the ache in his body, he sat up.
A knock at the door caught them all off guard. Ashe froze, a stray piece of hair falling into her face as her breath hitched. Her expression turned into a cold, rictus smile. Her lips barely moved as she hid the tray of food in her closet. "Not now, not now, not now–"
"My darling, won't you open the door?" A man's muffled voice asked from the other side.
The color drained from Knight's face. Ashe trembled as she worked to hide evidence of her guests, tossing their shoes under her piles of laundry, fumbling to fold the extra blanket she'd pulled out for them–until Knight put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"How can I help?" he mouthed the words, using what little strength he had left to bring her some semblance of comfort. Regardless of his suspicions, Knight was doubtlessly the more empathetic of the two. Ashe glanced around the room and Spade could almost see the panicked thoughts spinning wheels in her head.
She lifted the sheet to the bottom bunk suddenly. Neither boy needed to be instructed; they crawled under without complaint, squeezing as tightly as they could under the low metal structure until the sheet fell back in place. Spade peeked out from the tiny crack underneath, hoping he could not be seen.
The doorknob jiggled with their visitor's impatience. Spade heard a key click inside. "How many times have we discussed this?"
"I'm changing. I'll be right there, Charien," Ashe said, her voice automatic and quick. Rehearsed. She dragged her feet across the room, each step torture, and let him in.
Charien the Executioner was… underwhelming. A shadow fell across the room as the hallway's light struck the man's back, emphasizing his long, willowy frame. He was shorter than Spade had expected. Thinner, too. He was normal, disappointingly so.
This is what everyone's afraid of? Spade almost scoffed. He'd worked for boys twice as big as Charien.
There was something unnerving about the man, though, from his stiff posture, to the few glimpses of his face Spade caught. It was not the scar over his left eye but the emptiness in his pale eyes that unnerved Spade. He'd seen that kind of look before in gangs and other stragglers of the Gate; this man had seen death at his hands and reveled in it. The realization sobered him and Spade found his body reflexively inching away from Charien as he entered the room.
"I didn't see you all day," Charien said. He was too close to Ashe for Spade to see his face, but he could hear the authority in Charien's voice. He was well educated. Pompous, too. Spade grimaced, Charien's voice grating on his ears. "I would have thought you were avoiding me."
"Avoid you? Never." There was sarcasm in Ashe's response, but either Charien ignored it or didn't even notice. Spade wondered how often this conversation took place between them.
"I've come to collect you for the night." Charien drew his words out as he leaned over her, their shadows intertwined. "I'm exhausted. Are you ready for sleep?"
Ashe shifted on her bare feet, taking small, involuntary steps back toward the bed–away from his touch. "What's the point of having my own room if you never let me sleep in it?"
"My dear, what are you talking about?" He hovered too close. Spade could smell the wax on his loafers and the mediocre cologne that clung to his clothes. If Charien stepped any closer, he would kick Spade in the face. "You haven't slept at my side all week. I'm worried. You look so pale…" He reached forward to cup her face–too tight, Spade guessed, by Ashe's responding whimper. There was no kindness in Charien's voice. "Is something disturbing you?"
"No," Ashe said, the word warped as Charien pinched her cheeks. He must have let go, because it was much clearer when she continued, "Let's go to bed. Why not?"
"Excellent, although I wish you would share my enthusiasm." Their voices trailed off as Charien led her out into the hallway.
Spade waited for a few moments after the door was closed before sneaking out from under the bunk. He pressed his ear to the door, making sure their voices had faded before gesturing for Knight to join him.
"Did Ashe say Charien?" Knight asked, his face even paler than usual as he sidled back under the covers.
"It's X. Did you think he wouldn't be here?" Spade tried to brush it off, but he couldn't deny how his blood ran cold at the thought of Charien realizing that Spade was hidden mere inches away.
Knight didn't respond. He curled up under the blankets and stared at the door. If he intended to be on guard for the night, he was doing a poor job of it; Spade noticed the way his eyes steadily drooped lower as the night's exhaustion settled in.
Spade climbed onto the top bunk and kicked his shoes off onto the floor. He was too tired to marvel at how much room there was in a bed of his own or how soft the crappy mattress felt against his back. Knight's question lingered in his mind, playing on repeat like a grim mantra as he drifted to sleep.
"What have you gotten us into?"
He didn't know.
Comments