CRY HAVOC (Jack Frey Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  Jack climbed up on to his father’s old oak chest opposite the bed. He ran his fingers over it, feeling all the different places his father had been to in the chipped and scratched surface. From that little spot, he felt close to his father once more and safe in the world.

  He liked watching his mother sleep too. It was when she seemed most at peace. Her tightly furrowed brow disappered and there was the faint hint of a smile on her lips. Perhaps she dreamt of father again like Jack often did and happier days.

  The sudden click of the door opening shook him from his vigil. Brendan's face popped round the door, a big smile on his face. He beckoned Jack to come with him as if everything was all right. The cheek of him. Jack felt his anger churn in his gut. He bet Brendan wouldn’t even say sorry — the git.

  Jack slipped off the chest, ready to give his brother a piece of his mind but, as he passed his mother, he knocked her empty bottle with his foot. It rattled along the floorboards before stopping at the far wall with a clunk. Jack froze.

  "Who’s that?" she asked. She tried pushing herself upright but her left arm didn't want to cooperate. “Is that you Jack?”

  "Shush Mum, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

  "You're a good boy, Jack. I knew that from the moment you were born." She rolled on to her back, her eyelids fluttering. "My little baby."

  "My little baby," mimicked Brendan from the doorway. Jack gave his brother the finger to silence his brother.

  "Sleep tight, Mum. I'll see you later." He bent down and kissed her forehead. Her skin was hot despite the mildness of the evening.

  "Don't stay out late and keep out of trouble," his mother mumbled as he left the room.

  "How's my little baby?" said Brendan, puckering his lips and making wet kissing noises.

  Jack swung a punch at his brother. "Bugger off! Where'd you go anyway? I nearly got pinched today!"

  Brendan laughed as he blocked his brother's blows, pissing Jack off even more. "I didn't leave you. I just knew we'd do better on our own and someone had to get that stuff to the fence to be sold. No one's fast enough for my kid brother." He tried to ruffle Jack's hair but Jack wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

  "They said they were going to hang me. There were four of them," shouted jack, all red—faced. He was even more annoyed with himself for not being able to land a punch. Maybe then Brendan would take him seriously.

  "And did they hang you? I don't see a rope around your neck."

  "No," Jack mumbled.

  Brendan scrunched down so he was face to face with Jack. "Sorry, I didn't hear that. Did they hang you?"

  "No," said Jack, louder. "No, they didn't."

  "And you're not in front of the magistrates tomorrow are you?"

  "No thanks to you."

  "Well, I don't think you've got anything to moan about then," said Brendan, pulling a purse out of his pocket. He held it in front of Jack. "Instead of complaining, and since you've still got your neck, how about we go get a pie or two to eat?"

  The thought of food won over his anger at Brendan. His brother was the way he was. "I saw Mrs Waters putting a fresh chicken in her pot."

  "Well, chicken stew it is then," said his brother, slipping an arm over his shoulder. The two brothers walked down the stairs. "Now, when you say you ‘saw Mrs Waters put a chicken in her pot', you did see it go in, didn't you? She couldn't have swapped it for a rat while you weren't looking?"

  Mrs Waters' place was two streets away. It was no more than a big room with some broken down tables and chairs in it with a small kitchen at the back. If you needed something hot and quick without spending too much money, it was the place to go. Mrs Waters seemed to be able to get hold of real meat and vegetables when no one else could. She spread them out in her stews and pies with some great chunks of bread on the side. A big lady, always laughing, she could just as easily batter someone over the head for upsetting the other customers as hug them to death in her meaty arms. She had a soft spot for Jack and Brendan and often gave them scraps or leftovers at the end of the day, even if they had no coin, so it felt good walking in through the front door knowing they could pay for a real meal.

  The small bell above the door chimed as they entered and a sea of faces looked up at them. The ovens and the mass of bodies inside created an aroma of spiced sweat and heat. For some reason, all the customers were men. His mother said it was because men were too lazy to cook for themselves but Jack knew she was just jealous of Mrs Waters' cooking. Jack loved it all. His father used to bring him here for a meal before he went off to sea, sitting Jack on his lap while they shared a bowl of stew.

  "All right lads," said Mrs Waters, barreling over, her face flush. "You are way too early if you're after leftovers. Come back in a few hours when this lots cleared off and see me round the back. I'll let you know what I can do then, eh."

  "We want to eat now, please," said Brendan, squaring his shoulders. "Can we have a table?"

  "We've got money," piped up Jack.

  "Have you now?" replied Mrs Waters, one eyebrow raised as she looked at the boys through the corner of the other eye. "And where'd you get that then? I'm not going to find my family jewels missing am I?"

  "No. We earned it," answered Jack.

  "We've been working over the river," added his brother.

  "Well, then young sirs, you may have my finest table." Mrs Waters bowed and swept her arm towards a rickety table tucked into the far corner, two chairs on either side. "And perhaps you would like a menu of my fine fare?"

  Jack didn't know what a menu was but it didn't sound as good as chicken stew. Mrs Waters laughed when he told her so and pinched his cheek.

  "You sit there, young man and I'll bring you a bowl of my best." Mrs Waters placed two spoons on the table and Jack watched her waddle back to the kitchen as he sat down on the wooden chair. His feet barely touched the floor.

  "I spoke to Mr Giles," said Brendan. "He's got another job for us."

  "But we've just done one."

  "Well, he's got another. Another house up Grayston. His sister's cleaning there. Said it's full of stuff and dead easy to get into. She's even going to leave a window open for us. It's a walk in the park."

  "You said that last time and I nearly got pinched. And the time before that."

  "This time's different. We've never had a window left open for us before, have we? So tomorrow, early, before it gets too light, we'll head over and we'll be in and out before anyone's awake. It will be..."

  Brendan's voice drifted off as he stared at something over Jack's shoulder.

  "What is it?"

  "Don't look now but some bloke's been watching us."

  "Is it the law?" asked Jack, beginning to turn.

  "I said don't look! He's not the law. He's something different. Definitely not from around here. And I think he's only got one bloody eye."

  The urge to look was irresistible. Jack knocked a spoon on to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, he glanced through the crook of his arm. Brendan was right. The man was different. He was dressed all in black, mixing with the shadows lingering by the wall. A glint of light caught a bit of silver hanging from his neck. Jack recognized a holy man's circle but the stranger looked too dangerous to be a priest. A vicious scar ran down the left side of his face and through where his eye used to be. Only an empty socket remained but Jack could feel it looking deep within him. He shivered with fear, and it took all he had not to run from Mrs Waters right there, right then, to forget about his dinner and get away from the man with one eye.

  Mrs Waters plunked two bowls of stew on the table, startling Jack even more. "What are you two gawking at?" she asked.

  "Who's that man over there?" whispered Brendan.

  Mrs Waters didn't even try to hide the fact she stared. "What? Him over there?" she said with a wave of her hand. "Don't you mind him. He's a Black Dog. He won't do you no harm."

  “What’s a Black Dog?” asked Jack.

  Mrs Waters pulled a c
hair alongside them and sat down. "They're soldiers of God, my boy. Priests in the Order of Stephen, the First Knight. They fight the Nostros and other vile creatures. They keep us safe in our beds at night. That man over there has done things that would make your hair stand on end, seen things that would make your jaw drop and stood his ground when you'd be running as if your trousers were on fire. And more besides."

  "He scares me," said Jack.

  Mrs Waters tutted. "Don't you worry none. He's on our side, thank the Maker. Without him and his brothers, we'd all be food for the Nostros. The Black Dogs are the only ones keeping the demons away."

  "Mum says there's no such things as demons."

  "Well, lad, it's not for me to say she's right nor wrong. Maybe she's just never seen a dragon overhead, burning everything beneath it. Maybe she don't realize that the Nostros rule everything on the other side of the ocean and treat humans as naught more than a decent bit of meat to eat." Mrs Waters leaned in close to Jack. "But I know. I've run for cover when all around me burned. I've hid in a cupboard when rumors of a Nostros here in Brixteth have gone round the houses. I've seen the bodies drained of blood, lined up on the street, waiting to be burned."

  "Why's he keep looking at us?" asked Jack.

  "They do that, I'm afraid. Always looking for people are the Black Dogs. Always looking for young healthy lads for their sodding army." She looked at the man square on and raised her voice so all could hear. "But he won't find any in my place. All anyone should be thinking of is how nice my bloody food is."

  The dining room fell silent as they waited for the man to react. Mrs Waters stood with her hands on her hips until the man raised his spoon in acknowledgement. The chatter in the dining room restarted almost instantly.

  “Listen, Jack,” said Mrs Waters as she stood. She pushed her chair back. The smile was gone from her face and her eyes were cold. "Be scared if we don't have him. Be scared if we don't have the Black Dogs." Jack was holding his breath, hanging on Mrs Waters' every word. She leaned in closer, examining Jack from head to toe. "But you know what's scarier?"

  "What?" asked Jack but he didn't want to know the answer.

  Her smile shot back to her face bringing with it all its old warmness. "Me — if you waste my food. Now eat your stew before it gets cold."

  The boys ate their meal but Jack had lost his appetite. His head was full of monsters and dragons swooping from the sky. He couldn't imagine anyone being brave enough to try and fight demons like that. He turned to look at the one-eyed man once more but there was only an empty stool. The man was gone.

  2

  702 PN

  "Come on. Wake up," said Brendan, shaking Jack.

  The room was still dark and his mother wasn't back from work. Jack rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Do we have to go?" His head was still full of Mrs Waters' nonsense. He didn't want to go out while it was dark and monsters could be lurking outside.

  "Stop asking. You know we do. We turn down a job from Mr Giles and he won't give us another one. What will we do we do for food then?" Brendan threw a shirt at Jack before pulling on his own.

  "Mum's working now. She's earning too." It sounded silly the moment Jack said it. He glanced over to her empty bed. Better to go before she got back. She'd have spent any money she'd earned on drink and they both knew what happened then. Brendan just shook his head and carried on getting dressed.

  Jack knew he would end up doing as Brendan wanted. Things always seemed to work out that way. So he pulled on the shirt, found his battered trousers and dressed.

  "It better be an easy job," he muttered as he followed his brother out the door, taking the heel of hard bread that Brendan offered for breakfast.

  They met their mother just inside the front door.

  She staggered towards them, ducking her head so her hair hid her face.

  "Drunk again," said Brendan.

  "I'm not," she replied, her voice thick with booze.

  "Are you okay, Mum?" asked Jack, trying to get a look at her face. Something wasn’t right with her.

  "Don't worry about me, Jack," she replied wrapping her arms around him. He could smell the gin but, as he squirmed in her embrace, he saw something else. The right side of her face was one massive bruise. Her eye was swollen shut and dried blood clung to the corner of her mouth.

  "What happened," he asked.

  His mother let go of Jack and covered her face with her hand. "It's nothing."

  "Who hit you, Mum?"

  Brendan watched them from the door, his face impassive.

  "It was just a customer. Wasn't happy with me. Got a bit nasty I'll be alright. Just need a lie down." She touched Jack's face. "Where are you off so early then?"

  Jack looked at Brendan, who shook his head in response.

  "We're just going out. Nowhere special," said Jack.

  That got a tut from their mother. "Your brother not got you stealing again, has he?"

  "Someone's got to put food on the table," said Brendan, the door half-open in his hand. "We look after ourselves. No one else does."

  "Oh, is that so?" His mother tried to straighten up as she turned on Brendan. "Do you think I like living like this? Do you think I enjoy working all night? Having some idiot beat me up just because he's had a bad day? It's not my fault your father died, leaving us with nothing. He's the one who didn't look after us. All that time at sea, leaving us alone. Then he goes and dies. He got to escape this shit hole didn't he? We don't." Tears welled up in her eyes. But it wasn't enough to stop Brendan.

  "If you didn't drink everything you earned, then maybe we could do better."

  "I'm just trying to do the best I can," she cried. “It ain’t easy for me.”

  Jack looked behind him. The neighbors wouldn't like being woken up again by another screaming match. "Mum, it's alright. Why don't you go up to bed and we'll see you later," he said, trying to usher her up the stairs.

  "The only thing you do best is drinking," said Brendan. Jack didn't understand why they had to provoke each other like this every time.

  "Why you ungrateful whelp..." Their mother went to hit Brendan but Jack caught the arm. He hung on for dear life as she tried shaking him free.

  "You’re a pair of good-for-nothings. Your father knew what he was doing. He killed himself because of you two!" she cried, spit flying from her mouth.

  "That's a lie," shouted Brendan as he tried grabbing Jack. "He died in an accident at sea."

  "He killed himself because he hated you! Ashamed of you, he was!" their mother spat back.

  "You're a liar as well as a drunk," said Brendan. They battled in a tangle of limbs until Brendan pulled Jack free. "Buy yourself some more to drink and leave us alone." He stormed from the house, dragging his brother after him.

  "Why do we always have to fight? Why can't things be like they used to?" cried Jack.

  Brendan set a fast pace and was already five paces ahead of his brother. "Because Dad died and Mum won't stop drinking. That's life. It’s shit. All we can count on is you and me. Now come on, we've got a job to do." He didn't even look over his shoulder as he stormed up the street.

  The sun was still an hour from rising and the streets were deserted. The few lamps still burning did little to dispel the darkness of the tight pathways. Jack couldn't help looking around to see if anything was lingering in the shadows or swooping down from the skies. He told himself he was being stupid, that Mrs Waters had just been trying to scare him the previous day. He drew a circle around his chest all the same, like he’d seen grown up’s do, just to be extra careful.

  At least the grey slash of sky between the buildings was empty of any winged creatures. It was only when Jack gazed around the buildings he knew so well did he notice something off. It started as the feeling of being watched. A tingle at the back of the neck.

  His heart raced as his mind told him it was a monster, a Nostros — or worse. Jack called out to Brendan to stop but his brother wasn't listening, still fuming about what had happen
ed at home. Jack craned his neck from side to side, checking everything from ground floor doorways to third floor windows. Then he spotted something. A quick movement where there shouldn't have been. A face lurking in the shadows by the side of the Eastons' house.

  The face of the one-eyed man.

  "Brendan!" The fear in Jack’s voice stopped Brendan sure enough and he rushed back.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I saw him! Watching us!" shouted Jack, pointing back at the Easton’s house.

  "Saw who?"

  "The man from yesterday. The man with one eye. The Black Dog."

  "Where did you see him?"

  "I want to go home. I don't want to do this anymore." Tears ran down Jack’s face as he shook with fear.

  "Listen to me," said Brendan, shaking his brother slightly. "Where did you see him?"

  Jack pointed to the spot where he had seen the man again. But the man had disappeared.

  "There's no one there," said Brendan with a chuckle. "Maybe you just imagined it, eh?" He pulled his brother in close.

  "I don't think so." Jack looked back to the Easton’s. Had he imagined it? He had been looking for dragons and Nostros after all. He wiped his nose with the cuff of his shirt, tried a smile for his brother. "Maybe I did."

  "I'm not surprised you're jumping at shadows. I am too. I'm just trying to be brave and not show it."

  "Honest?" Brendan looked like he meant it but Jack could never be sure.

  "Would I lie to you? Come on — let's get this job over with and we can have more chicken stew when we get back."

  The boys retraced their steps from the previous day and found themselves back in Grayston just as it was waking up. Market workers maneuvered their stalls into position, stacking them with the day's wares. More than one told the boys to stay away, some less politely than others. Jack couldn't blame them. Only the dirt was preventing their clothes from falling apart and their bare feet stood out in Grayston as much as a pair of shoes would in Brixteth. And they were in Grayson to steal — just not from the stalls.

  Jack didn't like stealing. He just hoped that, one day, his family would have another way of surviving, a safer way. His dad always used to say there were no old thieves in life, just forgotten bones. How many close calls could they have with the law before the rope got them?