by Emma Newman
The Hunter reached out with both hands towards Zane. Startled by the intrusion of his personal space, Zane said, “Hey!” and backed away, only to feel Luthor’s hand catch the back of his neck and hold him in place with a firm grip.
“Stand still. He is going to check you for weapons,” Luthor instructed, not removing his hand.
Zane tensed as the other Hunter ran his hands over his shirt and patted his legs. Zane didn’t ever carry a knife and he was appalled that the Hunter thought he would. Only the Bloomsbury Boys did that, and only the ones who knew how to use them. Jay was very strict about that.
“Strange prey that you bring today.” The guard’s dismissive voice rumbled over Zane’s head, aimed at Luthor.
“Just check him, David,” he replied curtly, making no attempt to hide his dislike of the Hunter.
The man finally gave Luthor a nod and Zane was released. He tugged his shirt down, annoyed by the mocking looks that the guards had given him. He straightened himself up as best he could, but they simply looked back at him steadily until he lowered his eyes. They laughed at him.
Embarrassed, he let Luthor push him farther in as the heavy wooden doors were slammed shut behind them.
Chapter 7
THE RED LADY
Few people had seen the interior of this place, and Zane was acutely aware of this. None of the Bloomsbury Boys save Dev, who couldn’t remember anyway, had stepped foot into the inner part of the Red Lady’s territory. He recalled being told that the Red Lady was the last person that a trespasser would ever see, as soon after being condemned by her they would be blinded or killed. Zane had always thought that these were simply scary stories that the Boys loved to frighten each other with at night, but now that he was actually here, they came back to him with a visceral quality. Images of the way the Hunters pounced upon Dev and the new scars on his face flashed in his mind.
The courtyard through which Luthor steered him was surrounded on three sides by tall, four storey high brick buildings, not unlike those in his mother’s square, but these were all well cared for and clearly still in use, as several of the windows were open on the upper storeys.
The smell of food wafted from one of the open windows of the large building along with the gentle clamour of many people eating within. Zane’s own stomach growled and he longed for a taste of whatever it was that smelt so good.
Luthor directed him to a large set of double doors with a steady pressure applied to the small of his back. Zane felt that Luthor didn’t want him to have time to take in all of the details of the place.
A small set of steps led up to two grand wooden doors that looked heavy and thick, proportioned as if for men twenty feet tall, with two huge polished brass handles too big for any mere mortal to grasp in one hand. Again, they were flanked by two guards, both just as strong as those on the gate and with their hands on the hilt of the large swords hanging from their belts. Luthor nodded to both briskly, and they opened the doors for them to go through.
The interior was cool and shadowy after the glare of the noon sun. The floor alone arrested Zane’s attention, as the pale marble shone unlike any surface he had ever seen; it was a world away from the wooden floorboards and faded rugs of his own home. A pair of large doors stood to his left, a grand staircase swept up in front of him, and a corridor stretched away to his right. The air smelt sweet as Zane recognised lavender, but it was laced with something else, something musky, unlike anything he had ever smelt before.
Luthor propelled him towards the doors to his left. A single guard, the biggest yet, but still not as impressive as Luthor, looked Zane up and down with barely disguised surprise and then opened the door at Luthor’s nod. As the heavy wooden door was swung open, Luthor’s hand went to the back of his head, pushing it down so that he faced the floor as if in deference. Zane wanted to shove him away, but was mindful of how much stronger Luthor was.
A beautiful polished floor, the colour of dark honey, stretched ahead of him. He was aware of the size of the room and how light it was. One large window was to his left in his peripheral vision; it was open and thin gauze curtains were teased by the gentle breeze.
That heady, unfamiliar scent was stronger here, and Zane felt the presence of someone at the far end of the room, but with Luthor’s hand still firm on the back of his head, he couldn’t look up to see who it was. He was manoeuvred further in and heard the doors shut behind them with a loud, deep thud that briefly drowned out his thrumming heart.
“Bring him closer, Luthor,” a voice said. It was soft yet commanding and floated from a place beyond where he could see. His heart splashed against his chest. It was the first feminine voice he had ever heard that wasn’t his mother’s, and something rich in its tone made him desperate to look up and see what its creator looked like.
Luthor did her bidding, and a shallow step in the same gleaming wood as the floor came into Zane’s field of vision.
“Mmmm …” The silken voice murmured a hint of approval and Zane felt immensely self-conscious all of a sudden. It was a novel sensation. He wanted to know what she was thinking, wanted her approval somehow, before he had even seen her. “Hello, Zane,” she said quietly, lingering over his name in the same way as he would savour the last bite of his favourite meal. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Strangely, he was thrilled to hear this. “You have?” he replied, immediately annoyed at his voice not sounding as deep as he wanted.
“Mmmm, yes. Let him go, Luthor. I want to see his face.”
The pressure lifted from the back of his head and Zane finally did as he craved, but slowly, now fearful that the sight of her wouldn’t match the promise of her voice.
Three more polished wooden steps came into view, then a slender foot, wrapped in a sandal of thin strands of leather that crisscrossed their way up the smooth, shapely leg above it. Then red silk, draping its way across to cut off the upward track of his eyes. Unable to stop, he drank in the rest of her like a thirsty man would sweet wine.
The Red Lady sat at the top of the dais in a throne-like chair so wide that she half lay across it, accentuating the curve of her hips and her slim waist. Her long, straight hair framed her face like rich satin, a deep blonde with occasional auburn streaks. Her eyes looked back at him, hinting at something playful yet dangerous. Their colour reminded him of spring leaves with sunlight filtered through them. Her skin was flawless, creamy, and smooth, as if made to be touched. He wanted to rush forward and run his hands over her arms, left bare by the silken red dress that alternately draped and clung to her in all the right places. It was held up by two thin straps that looked as if they may slip off her shoulders at any moment, and without even realising it, he wished that they would. When he saw the deep cleft between her breasts, his mouth went dry, and in that moment he decided that if he ever saw another woman again, she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as the Red Lady.
She watched him, amused, as he blinked and his mouth hung open. Her full, red lips curved into a slow smile and she allowed him a few moments more before saying, “You act as if you’ve never seen a woman before.”
“I haven’t,” Zane replied stupidly, and then hastily added, “I mean, not one that wasn’t Mum. Miri, I mean … she’s my mum.”
Her smile melted into a brief laugh that in his stupor reminded Zane of melodious birdsong. “I know.”
He remained silent, watching her eyes slowly move up and down him as she seemed to study him, appraising him as one might a fruit tree that needed to be pruned. He became painfully aware of how small he seemed in comparison to Luthor.
“Zane’s a strange name. Were you named after someone?”
He wished he could tell her he was named after some kind of great hero, but all he could truthfully reply was, “I don’t know.”
“No matter.” She caught a wisp of hair in her fingers and twisted it. “Luthor, you never told me how handsome Miri’s son has become.”
Zane heard the leather of Luthor’s armour cr
eak as he tensed at the comment. Zane smiled to himself. Handsome! She said he was handsome!
“Leave us now.” She waved a hand dismissively at the huge man as she would a stray dog. He paused, as if needing a moment to understand the unexpected command. When he didn’t immediately obey, the Red Lady’s eyes flicked to him and it only took a moment of her glare to make him bow deeply and reluctantly withdraw.
She watched him leave and then her attention fell back on Zane.
“So what do you think of my Hunters?”
Zane fumbled for words, most of them having been pushed out of his mind by the vision of her. “Um … they’re very strong.”
She smiled. “I like my men to be strong. And big.”
Zane thought of his skinny arms and legs and sighed to himself.
“I would think,” she began slowly, continuing to torment the strands of hair caught on her finger, “that you would like to be big and strong one day too.”
He nodded rapidly, completely unaware of how transparent he was.
“Perhaps you could be big and strong enough to be one of my Hunters.”
Zane nodded again. “Yes, I’d like that,” he replied without thinking.
She sighed. “But I don’t see how you will be.”
His stomach tightened at the prospect of such a personal tragedy. “I’ll try really hard,” he retorted, making silent oaths to get up at dawn and run and lift heavy things until his arms were as big as Luthor’s.
“It’s not that,” she smiled, “I’m sure you’d be very motivated. It’s just that the reason why my men are like that is because they hunt and eat the meat they catch.”
Zane was crestfallen. “I don’t know how to hunt,” he said sadly.
“Oh dear.” She let him wallow in his misery for several heartbeats and then leant forward, as if something had enthused her all of a sudden. “I have an idea!” Zane almost took a step towards her, she was so magnetic. But then her face lost its excited joy and she shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure your mother would like it though.”
“Oh! How about you tell me anyway? I know her better than anyone–it might be alright.”
“Well, perhaps we could strike a deal,” she replied. “Let’s see … I could send one of my Hunters to train you every day so you could learn how to catch meat and get stronger.”
Zane gasped in delight at the possible end to his inadequacy. “That would be wonderful!” he gushed.
“But Zane …” She released her hair and held up a hand. “This is something I’ve never offered to anyone outside of my gang before. I’m not sure I should …”
Zane was about to say that he would join it, then and there, on his knees in front of her, unaware of how effortlessly he was being manipulated. Mercifully the memory of his mother telling him again and again to never join a gang chose this time to surface. Crushed by guilt at having forgotten her until now, he lowered his large brown eyes and said, “Mum would never let me join a gang … not without talking to her first.”
The Red Lady leant back in her chair. “Well … I could make an exception in your case.” She smiled at the way his head snapped up and his eager eyes searched her face for salvation. “Seeing as you show such … promise, I will offer you this. I’ll send a Hunter to train you, and in return you’ll give me a quarter of the meat from every kill you make. I’ll offer this to you only once, Zane, so think carefully.”
He didn’t.
“Yes!” he said immediately. “It’s a deal! That would be great. I’d happily do that–no problem. Thank you!” She laughed again, delighting in his open captivation.
Zane took a deep breath and said, “When the Blooms-bury Boys make a deal, they spit on their palms and then shake each other’s hands. Do you do that here?”
She looked down at his hopeful face. “Goodness, no!” She stood, smirking at his disappointment and then held out her right hand down to him. “But I’ll shake your hand without the spitting to seal the deal. And as you’re an outsider, I’ll release you from a blood obligation.”
With trembling legs, Zane climbed the steps and reached out to clasp her hand. It was cool and so soft, so different to his mother’s calloused hands. He held it a little too long before shaking it as firmly as he could, just like Jay had taught him when he was much younger.
“Well, your handshake is strong enough,” she commented, and his chest swelled with pride. She smiled and said quietly, “You can let go now, Zane. The deal is made.”
Blushing, he let go of her hand and she returned to the chair. When she turned her back to him to do so, he couldn’t help but admire her skin and the curve of her back, the deep cut of the dress drawing his eyes to the lowest part of it just above her hips.
“I look forward to hearing of your progress,” she said, draping herself across the chair, the silk of the dress falling from the slit cut at the side of it, revealing a little more of her thigh.
All Zane could do was nod, dumbstruck.
The Red Lady’s smile played across her lips, but Zane failed to notice that it didn’t reach her eyes. She clicked her fingers and the doors at the end of the room opened. It surprised Zane; surely that was too quiet to be heard through such a thick door.
Luthor and the other guard appeared at the doorway. “Escort my guest home, Luthor,” she commanded. As he was entering, she turned back to Zane. “Unless you’d like something to eat before you go?”
At that moment, another Hunter carried in a large bronze platter, two crystal glasses at its centre, surrounded by a selection of cut meat and salad. He climbed the steps and knelt at her feet, presenting it to her with a bowed head.
Zane’s stomach growled so loudly that Luthor raised an eyebrow at him. Zane swallowed and through gritted teeth said, “No thank you,” whilst staring with longing at the platter. He and his mother so rarely ate meat.
“Ah well,” she sighed and shrugged at him. “I suppose you should get back home to your mother. Goodbye, Zane.”
Zane sighed wistfully, not wanting to leave at all but realising that it wasn’t up to him. He was about to move when he felt Luthor’s hand grip the back of his head again, this time more roughly than before, and push him down into a bow before Zane could resist.
“Be more respectful,” Luthor growled in his ear and Zane conceded to the bow.
Luthor let him go and then bowed deeply himself. The Red Lady barely seemed to notice as she cast her eyes over the offerings in front of her. Zane was half pulled away by his escort before finally tearing his eyes from her and allowing himself to be led to the door.
Just before stepping through, he broke away from Luthor. It was so unexpected that Zane slipped from the Hunter before he had time to grab him; evidently no-one had ever dared return to her once dismissed.
Zane raced back to the dais as the other man hastily laid the platter on the floor to partially draw his sword. The Red Lady was also surprised, but maintained her composure, waiting to see what the boy wanted.
“I just remembered,” he blurted and she raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “I didn’t kiss you goodbye!”
“What!” Luthor roared in fury at his impertinence and began to storm his way across the room to drag Zane out by his hair.
But the Red Lady stayed him with her hand, still looking at Zane, fascinated. “I never said you could or invited you to do so,” she said, amused.
“But … but I always kiss my mum goodbye, so I thought …”
A spontaneous ripple of laughter tilted her head back, exposing her milky throat. He ached to touch it. “I have never heard …” Her words unravelled back into her delighted laugh.
Luthor hung back, uncertain at what to do when he saw her amusement at Zane’s effrontery, but ready to leap on him at a flick of her finger.
Zane also stood poised, not knowing what she wanted. He eyed the Hunter crouched between the two of them, who stared back at him balefully. The Red Lady put a hand on his shoulder, still chuckling. “Put it away, Leo. He i
sn’t a threat.” The Hunter dropped the sword back into its sheath and backed away.
Zane looked up at her hopefully, his muscles straining to be close to her once again. She looked at him with renewed interest.
“What a charming young man you are, Zane. Yes, I’ll let you kiss me goodbye if you wish.” A spluttering cough burst out from Luthor behind him, which she ignored. She turned her face slightly and tapped her left cheek.
Zane bounded up the last three steps like an eager puppy and then, holding his breath, leant forward to plant a tender kiss on her slightly flushed cheek. It felt like the petal of a newly opened rose beneath his lips, and he lingered there for a heartbeat longer than when he kissed his mother.
She pulled back and smiled almost mischievously at him. Grinning like a Bloomsbury Boy with his first Token, he practically floated back down the steps, walking backwards to the door so that he might steal every last moment of the encounter. He waved at her as he withdrew, a glowering Luthor ensuring that this time he really did leave.
Chapter 8
THE FRAGILE BALANCE
All the way back to Miri’s square, whilst skirting around car wrecks and stepping over gentle mounds of dust collected by the clusters of bones, Luthor seethed. Zane was in a glorious world of his own, head crammed full of images of the Red Lady. He rolled each one around his mind like a sweet berry in his mouth.
A silly smile danced across Zane’s face as he ruminated on what she had said to him. He fantasised about being a great Hunter and returning to her, bloody from a kill, to have her clap her hands in delight and then kiss him in gratitude, his young heart providing a loud percussive background all the while.
Luthor’s face was twisted into a grim scowl, his eyes occasionally taking in the expressions on his charge’s face; the happier they were, the more angry he became. He stopped at the farthest edge of Queen Square, eager to discharge his duty as soon as possible. Zane didn’t notice for a few steps, but when he did he smiled at the massive man happily, making Luthor’s teeth grind.
