My sister scares me sometimes.
I keep saying to her, all I want to know is where Conor is going to be at a certain time so that I can be there to put a bullet in his neck. But no. That’s not good enough. Signy wants everything done ‘properly’. Not just Conor but the whole empire has to be shot down the drain, and the Volsons put back in his place.
Those days are gone forever. The Volsons are an empty house. I don’t even think of myself as one any more. Me and her – what are we worth? She can’t escape Conor even though she has the means if she wanted to, and me, I’m just dead meat walking.
She’s been getting worse ever since the baby was born. Going on about Odin, the knife, about Val, about the empire. The current thing was Styr, of course: the clone. The thing from the tank. I kept telling her, I wanted nothing to do with her plans, any of them – but especially not Styr. And yet she never seemed to doubt that I’d do what she wanted. Look at this – a letter written weeks ago before she went into the tank. She didn’t even wait till she emerged to find out if I was going to do it.
‘Shit.’
Cherry looked across at me with that wry smile of hers.
‘I won’t be a nursemaid for Conor’s brat.’
‘He’s nearly fifteen years old, Sigs.’
‘It’s all wrong, he was only conceived a few months ago,’ I grumbled. I crumpled up the letter and chucked it at the window. ‘I don’t like it, I don’t want it, I won’t have it.’
Cherry smiled at me and held out her hand. In her palm lay a nut. I stared at it sullenly.
‘I thought you couldn’t lend shapes,’ I said.
She shrugged. ‘I had to get help. I was surprised he agreed.’
She meant Loki, of course.
Sometimes I feel the gods hanging around me like crows. There was Odin, of course, putting in a couple of appearances – distant, stern, all-knowing. A bit too stereotyped for me. I still don’t know whether he’s something out of Ragnor or not. Either way, it doesn’t do to fall out with such a patron; you can see what’ll happen even with him on your side. But Loki – what good ever came out of Loki?
On the other hand if all he was doing was mucking up Odin’s plans, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. But no, I don’t mean it! Not if it involves Styr.
Cherry muttered her charms; the nut sprouted.
You can’t help but watch, even though it makes you feel sick. This was worse, because the kid was a real monster as far as I was concerned. He ended up on all fours and scrambled to his feet, in the way a dog might jump up. You know, without self-consciousness at how foolish he looked. Then the change was over and I could see him for what he was and…
First thing, I wanted to run out of the room. Next thing… Well, then I was just mesmerised. He was like me. I thought, what? Why? I mean, OK, Signy and me are twins, but not identical twins. But he was so like me. Except, of course, a better version. Bigger, stronger, beautiful. I never used to think of myself as beautiful. I found that I was touching my face and I thought, did I used to look like that? I tried to walk away but I found myself circling around him like a dog. It was like… is this me? Am I looking at myself? Had she cloned me, somehow?
As I walked around I could feel all the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. It was extraordinary. I felt like I was turning into an animal. I thought, no! I’m not the animal – he is. But despite that – listen to this, despite that, despite everything, I knew right at that second that I loved him. I loved him and I had no choice. And that scared me more than anything.
I glared at Cherry and snarled, ‘What is this?’
‘Your boy,’ she told me.
‘Get him out of here,’ I said.
‘Signy wants you to train the boy.’
‘No.’
‘She wants…’
‘No!’
I turned to go, I got to the door with my hand on the handle, when the boy cried out, ‘Father!’
… and I stuck there with my hand on the handle. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t move. The awful thing was, I knew. Even before he said it, I knew it was right.
‘How can that be?’ I whispered.
And Cherry said, ‘I lent her my shape.’
So that was it. I didn’t need to question it, I knew it was right. I must have looked awful because Cherry stepped over to me and put her arm protectively around me. ‘Why?’ I asked her.
‘She asked me to,’ said Cherry.
‘And the other times?’
Cherry gave me a crooked look, half smiled. ‘No, that was me, Siggy.’ She wriggled her small hand into mine and whis pered, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was going to do that.’
‘But you’d have done it anyway,’ I told her, and she didn’t deny it.
All the time the boy stood there watching me intently, as if his life depended on what I did next. His face, it was always like this, it gave nothing away except that his eyes looked like two hot stones. Now he moved, took steps towards me to join us, his hands held out, wanting to touch me.
‘No!’ I couldn’t bear him to touch me. Then I found myself staring at him to see if I’d hurt him. I thought, my flesh and Signy’s flesh. No wonder he knows me better than I know myself.
‘Test me,’ he said.
I shook my head. Test him? For what? Blood? He meant his strength, of course, his skill as a soldier. Signy wanted him to help me destroy Conor. Suppose he was the best in the world. What difference would that make to anything?
‘Dag Aggerman taught me,’ said the boy in a clear voice. ‘He sends his greetings, Father, and asks when you will join him to lead the human resistance against the tyrant.’
I shook my head. I wanted out of there. I even took a step towards the door. Cherry squeezed my hand gently, I pulled away. But I couldn’t leave. It was impossible to deny him. Maybe Signy arranged it like that. Or Odin, or Loki. Or is it just that I’m too soft? I don’t know, but instead of going out of the door, I found myself sticking my head out of the window for a breath of fresh air.
It was market day. Most days were market days, there’s always a few people with something to sell spread out on the ground. Today was official, though, and it was busy. It went from people with a cloth on the ground with a few sad knick-knacks they wanted to swap for a few sad scraps, to stalls with striped awnings selling some really good bits. All around the stalls were the shops, some of them poor, some of them rich; and some of them powerful.
I turned round to look at Styr. He held his arms out. ‘I want you to teach me. I want to be a good soldier. I can help. Test me.’ He paused a second and then said, ‘I love you, Father.’
I laughed. How could he love me, he’d never even met me before? But he did. I knew he did. And I loved him.
I thought to myself, what right has this creature to my feelings? I wished him dead… truly, I wished him dead. I was filled with fear of him, at where he’d come from, out of a glass tank, out of lies, out of incest. Then I had another thought and I said, ‘What about the other one?’
Cherry scowled. ‘Sigs, don’t,’ she said.
‘The real one, what about him?’ I asked the clone.
A kind of shudder went through the boy. He struck himself in the chest. ‘I am the real one,’ he cried out. ‘I am the reason why…” He spread his arm out, and of course it was true. He was the reason the other one, the baby in Conor’s Estate had been born. In that sense, he was the real one.
‘He doesn’t count,’ said the clone. ‘He’s just a child.’
‘And what about your childhood?’ I said spitefully.
He shrugged. ‘It’s too late for that.’
I turned back to look out of the window. Out here in Muswell Hill it was tough. You had to know the right places to go, you had to know what to do. You had especially to know what not to do. I figured it wouldn’t be so hard to find a test he couldn’t pass.
I beckoned to him and he came to stand next to me. Straight away there was this feeling – it never
left me, every time he stood close to me. Repugnance and attraction, love and hate, all in one.
‘There.’ I pointed. ‘See? The pawn shop…’
It was Do Hawkins’ place. He does a lot of good stuff. It isn’t just the poor people go to Do’s if they need cash. Plenty of rich people pawn the family jewels there. You didn’t have to have a good reputation or a decent credit rating. Do’s insurance policy was a little different from just making sure he lent to the right people. If he didn’t get it back, and the rest, his helpers paid you a ‘little visit’. Do was the nearest thing to a ganglord left in north London. He had any number of scams, theft, extortion, murder. I’d done a few jobs with him myself. There were a great many people who didn’t even need the money found themselves obliged to borrow off Do, just so he could have the pleasure of them paying him back at a good rate of interest.
He was good at it too. There was a small fortune sitting in that shop. An ideal attraction for thieves, you’d have thought, but you’d be wrong. No one – and I mean no one – bothered trying to steal off Do. It was just too dangerous. You’d have to be a genius just to get in there.
‘Do the till and you’re in,’ I told him.
I was shaking as I walked back to the window to watch. Cherry was furious.
‘You’ve killed him.’
I was gritting my teeth.
‘He’s only fifteen, Siggy.’
‘A test, he needs to have a test,’ I insisted.
She shook her head and came over to stare down at the street below. Then she smiled.
‘Look, there he is.’ I peered out of the window. That was quick. I was impressed. The kid was there in amongst the crowd, circling about, getting in closer.
‘He’s gonna have a go,’ I said in surprise.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Cherry. And she laughed at seeing me put out. ‘Stop him,’ she said. But I couldn’t move.
Styr was in close already, squeezing his way through the crowds, getting right up to the counter. Then he whipped out a gun.
I jumped and shouted. This was mad! The whole shop froze. I could see the big guys eyeing him up, but they didn’t dare do anything – yet. Styr was as cool as you like. People were moving in behind him, but he got them out of the way with the gun. The guy behind the table emptied the till into a bag, handed it over. Shit, he’d actually done it!
He was gonna die.
Suddenly my heart was in my mouth and I was thinking, come on, kid, come on, you can do it! But at the same time I knew he stood no chance. He might get out of the shop, but he’d be dead in a few steps.
Styr turned and began to edge out of the shop.
‘They’ll bloody kill him!’ I leaned out over the sill. I was scared! ‘They’ll kill him!’
‘Your own son,’ said Cherry.
I cursed her. Below us, Styr turned and ran. There was a crackle of gunfire. The crowd opened and closed to let Styr through. He was running… and suddenly the street was full of big men in good suits running after him.
‘Stupid kid!’ I screamed. I leaped backwards and got to the door. He didn’t stand a chance! As I belted down the corridor I heard Cherry over my shoulder.
‘Better hurry.’
I went down that corridor like a pinball. I fell down the stairs and out of the door. He’d be dead already! I grabbed a passer-by. ‘Which way?’ I screamed.
‘What?’ The man didn’t know what I was talking about. I dropped him and ran towards Do’s. I grabbed one of the big men. He recognised me, everyone knew my face, or what was left of it.
‘Where’ve they gone?’
‘Was he yours? What you playing at?’
‘WHERE?’ The man paled. He didn’t like being shouted at, but he knew better than to argue with me. He just pointed.
I ran off, down behind Queens Avenue where the clothes stalls peter out and they sell broken bits of machinery and tools. I grabbed another passer-by. It took me two more before I found them. They had him up against a wall by a load of wooden boxes full of cabbage leaves and rotten fruit. There were about six of them, teaching him a lesson for everyone else to see before they finished him off. The slush was red with blood. He’d done a lot of damage himself. There were a few of them flat out on the ground, some dead, some wheezing and gasping. But the ones still standing were serious with their boots. I figured the aim was to kick him to death.
The kid was flailing about with his arms. He was a real mess already. They were making a meal of it.
‘Drop him!’ I shouted. They turned to look at me. I’m not that big to look at. The one standing back spat, the other pulled back his boot and smashed it again into the lad’s face. Styr sort of twitched.
I lost it. I really lost it. I do sometimes. It was just a red haze. When I came round, I had my back to the wall with Styr at my feet and the thugs were grounded. There was blood everywhere, up the walls, in the gutter. I finished off with a last shot. That guy who did that last kick, he shouldn’t have done that. I helped Styr up, and it says something for him, and for the changes Signy made to him, that he was still able to walk. I marched him back to the pawnshop. Do had heard about the fuss and he was waiting for me. The whole market place knew what was going on.
Well, Do was a big player. Bigger than me. But he knew me. And he knew who I was.
I flung the moneybag down at his feet. Money spilled over onto the floor. ‘If he steals your wife and you touch him, I’ll do to you what I just done to your thugs,’ I hissed. Do Hawkins looked at me. He glanced at his other blokes.
I leaned across and I yelled right in his face. ‘You know me, Hawkins. I’m Volson.’
I made sure it was loud enough for people to hear. That name means something still. The crowd muttered. Hawkins nodded.
‘Well, Den, we didn’t know, did we?’ he said. That’s what they call me round here. I kicked over the table and helped myself to a handful of banknotes, just to rub it in, before I left them to it and dragged the bits back upstairs.
‘Made a bit of a mess of him, didn’t they?’ Cherry scolded me. She had out the disinfectant and bandages and all the rest, dabbing the grit out of his face. They must have rubbed it in the road for him. He sat there wincing while she dabbed his face.
‘Are you going to send me back?’ he asked.
‘What if I do?’ I wanted to know.
‘I failed,’ he said. And he put his face in his hands and began to cry, harsh, dry sobs from his very heart.
I felt like crying myself. Poor kid, he was just a kid after all. I dug out a nail from the drawer and I hammered the notes I kept from Do onto the wall.
‘Your first trophy,’ I told him. ‘Pass. You passed. You stay with me.’
23
siggy
He got round me that day by being so young and so brave but I regretted it because I knew he was no good. I mean, what sort of a mess were Signy and Loki going to make of him between them? In the end I had to add my dollop too, because he loved me, you see. Love makes you love back, I couldn’t help it. Even though my sister manufactured the love, it worked.
I took him out to try him out – you know, big fat pig jobs, the sort of thing me and Signy used to like. ‘Go in that window shaft, find your way round to the corridor, get out and let me in the door…’ I’d say. His hard white face, nodded at me. In he’d go, all alone in the dark organs of the building. And guess who starts sweating? Me!
I’d start thinking, Holy Mother of Hel, what if he gets caught? They’ll string him up. I’d stand in the shadows, scared silly. And then there’d be a rattle at the lock and the door’d open and there he’d be, looking all serious at me. Never so much as a smile or I-told-you-so.
‘You stupid kid, what did you do that for?’
‘You told me to.’
‘Yeah, well go and jump in the fire…’
His life was worthless if it came down to an order and I was weak enough to love it. Whatever words fell from my mouth were the Gospel, no question. If I told him to peel the
spuds, they got peeled. If I told him to hide down that shit-filled drain, he hid. If I told him to point the gun at that man’s heart and shoot him if he moved, he pointed. He never had to shoot, though. He was only a kid but they knew, even the hardest of them knew just by looking that he’d do anything if he had to. Or maybe even if he just felt like it.
Oh, Styr put the spooks on everyone, man, animal or halfman but I reckon he wasn’t any of those himself. For instance, he had my memories. He knew Val. He remembered him. He remembered sitting on his knee. I said, ‘Listen, Val died before you were born.’ And Styr’d smile and nod and say, ‘But I knew him. I know him.’ And he’d look me in the eye and dare me to contradict him, because he did know him – in his bones, the way a dog knows bite, the way a swallow knows where to fly in the winter. He knew things better than a man ever could.
He remembered my brothers being eaten by the Pig too. Thanks, Mum! What a christening gift. What spooked me was, they were my memories. So how’d Signy get her hands on them? Who stole them for her? Cherry? Odin? Loki? And it wasn’t only mine. Styr could remember seeing Val’s body strung up on a frame as Conor marched through town back to the Estate. Signy’s memory. Would you give your child memories like that?
No Easter eggs. No Father Christmas. No bike rides, no toys or little friends. No you-show-me-yours-and-Fll-show-you-mine in the hedges. Just murder.
Some mother.
Apart from Conor, there was one other thing he hated. His other half, the one living with Conor. Little Vincent, my real son. Maybe it was because the little boy was the real one, the one who had the childhood, the one who had the mother. I tried to talk to him about it, but talk meant nothing to Styr. He never questioned his loyalties or his hatreds; they were given.
‘He has no business,’ he used to say. No business. No reason to be.
But he was loyal to me, and I was loyal to him, and I had to love him even though he filled me with fear. I was like a child. I was even jealous of his other loves. Oh, he had other loves, but not people. He loved revenge. You could see his eyes sort of glaze over when he talked about what we were going to do to Conor when we got our hands on him.
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