by Mike Morris
The news took Jack by surprise. He’d not even considered his mother would’ve moved. Where would she have gone to? She only knew Brixteth. "Do you know where the people who lived here before might have moved onto?"
The man shook his head. "No. I really can't help you."
They stood staring at each other for a few moments before the man starting shifting his feet uncomfortably. "Thanks for your time, "said Jack. He wandered back down Elgin Street, taken aback by what had happened. He never dreamed that his mother wouldn't be still in their old house. Whenever he had thought about coming back to Brixteth, he had pictured himself on his father's sea chest in the room he and his brother had grown up in. Now it was truly gone. He paused at the corner of the street and looked back. Now he knew it was someone else’s home, he barely recognized it. He double checked the street name in case he’d taken a wrong turn but no, it was the right place.
He stopped at Big John's house to ask if he knew of his mother's whereabouts.
The man shrugged his shoulders. "No idea, son. Not seen her around this way for a long time."
Hamish leaned on the railing separating his doorstep from Big John's. "Ask Mrs Waters. She still knows everything worth knowing."
Jack nodded. "I will do."
Big John held up a finger before he could walk off. "Just be careful, eh? Things have changed a bit since you were there last."
"What do you mean?" asked Jack but Big John shook his head.
"I'm not getting involved. Just do yourself a favor and keep your head down." With a tilt of his head, he said goodbye to Jack and returned to his conversation with Hamish. Jack walked towards Mrs Waters' place, even more confused than before. If she was still making meals for people, he couldn't imagine any reason to be careful. Mrs Waters never put up with any nonsense when he was a kid and he was sure she wouldn't now. And Hamish was right, she’d know where his mother was. She’d point him in the right direction.
The inside of her shop was exactly as he remembered it. The old bell above the door chimed its customary welcome. Perhaps there were a few more stains on the walls but that was about it.
Except something was different.
He took a few steps inside before it registered. The place, for the first time in his life, was almost empty. A few people were scattered around tables here and there but there was no banter or laughter going on. Suspicious eyes followed him as he made his way toward the kitchen but, when he looked at any of the customers, they all dropped their gaze back down to their meals.
Jack found Mrs Waters in the kitchen, slaving away over a big pot of stew. He was shocked at the sight of her. Instead of plump and full of life, she looked thin and haggard with the weight of the world on her shoulders. As she turned toward him, he noticed her right eye was swollen shut with bruising. She fumbled with her ladle when she saw Jack in the doorway, fear on her face. "Who’re you? What do you want? Who sent you?" she said.
"It's me, Mrs Waters," replied Jack, pointing to himself. "Jack. Jack Frey. I used to come here with my brother, Brendan, years ago."
She rushed to him as recognition filled her eyes and wrapped her arms around him as if her life depended on it. "Oh my God. It is you. You've grown so much. How old are you now?”
“I’m fourteen.”
“Foouteen? Bloody ‘ell where does the time go? You all grown up and me just getting old. What’re you doing here? I thought you'd joined the Order."
"Came back here. Came back home. Trying to find my Mum but she doesn't live in the old house any more."
"It's not been your home for a few years now, Jack. Your mother left long ago. Looking for something better for her self. She was never the same after you boys left..." Mrs Waters gave a gentle shake of her head. "You don't want to be in Brixteth if you can help it. The place has changed. It's..." She stopped as the bell rang over the front door. The sound of raised voices drifted in from the shop. "Oh dear. Look at me gassing. You'd better go, love."
Jack turned to head into the main room when Mrs Waters placed a hand on his arm, restraining him. "Don't go that way. Probably best you head out the back. Easier for both of us."
"Waters! Where’re you, you old hag?" A man called out from the shop.
"Who’s that?" asked Jack.
Mrs Waters was wide-eyed with fear. "Please just go. Please for me."
"Waters! Come out here!" The man called out again.
Mrs Waters pushed Jack behind her. "I can help you," he said, trying to step round her.
"Jack, please. I'm begging you. Just stay here if you won't go. Let me deal with him."
"Who's going to deal with me?" A well-built man stood in the doorway, a cocky grin sat underneath a broken nose. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, showing off his biceps.
Mrs Waters started shaking. "Didn't mean that like it sounded, Ron. Just telling this young 'un to stay out the way while I came to talk to you."
"And who is this that you care so much about, eh?" said Ron. “Who’s the kid?”
Jack stepped out from behind Mrs Waters. "An old friend from back in the day."
Ron squinted his beady eyes. "From back in the day?"
"Yeah. Used to live near here. Just came in to say hello." Jack gave Ron a big smile as he watched the confusion on the man's face. Ron wasn't used to someone not being afraid of him.
"Leave him alone, Ron. Please. Let me just you give you the money," pleaded Mrs Waters.
"Shut it," snapped Ron. "I think the young un should come meet the lads." He yanked Jack forward, dragging him into the main room. The few customers were all gone, some had left half eaten plates of food. In the center, spread around a cluster of three tables, were five men, all with the look of easy trouble about them.
Ron thrust Jack in front of them. "Lads, meet Jack. Jack, these are my lads."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Your lads?"
Ron swung a chair round and straddled it with the back facing Jack. "My lads. They work for me. Collecting what's owed. Stopping people from fucking with any of my businesses."
"You've got businesses?" Jack replied. He could feel his anger building. He didn’t care he was outnumbered by bigger, older men. They were bullies, made of fat more than muscle. "Cornered the market on cleaning gutters have you?"
One of Ron's henchmen laughed. "Want me to smack the shit out of that grin of his?"
"Let me answer his question first." Ron wagged a finger at Jack. "I'm an important man round here. Got shares in every thing that happens in Brixteth. People pay me to look after them and ensure nothing bad happens to them. Me and the lads are like their guardian angels."
"Let me guess. If they don't pay you, bad things happen," replied Jack.
Ron spread out his arms. "What can I say?" He paused for a moment while he ran his tongue over his lips. "Let me show you how it works. Get him lads."
The men sprung from their seats but to Jack, they might as well have been standing still. A fist came toward him but Jack grabbed it mid-swing. He twisted the arm back on itself, pulling its owner passed him. He drove his left knee up into the man's chest. Heard a pop as he yanked the arm back from the socket. He let the man fall to the floor screaming. Two more lumbered toward him. He cracked both their heads together, stopping them dead in their tracks. The fourth man swung a chair at Jack's head but he brought his right arm up to block it. The chair smashed to pieces against Jack's arm. Snatching a falling chair leg, he clubbed the man across the jaw, breaking it with a crack. The fifth man tried to pull a knife but Jack smashed his palm into the man's elbow. Bone erupted through skin and the man dropped to the floor, screaming.
No more than five seconds had passed. Jack stood alone, untouched while Ron's henchmen lay writhing at his feet. "That the end of my lesson, Ron?"
"Motherfu..." Ron threw himself at Jack. The boy sidestepped the lunge, sweeping Ron's legs from under him. The thug crashed into a table. Face bright red with anger and embarrassment, Ron struggled onto his feet but Jack swun
g a roundhouse kick into the side of his temple. The thug’s eyes rolled back into his skull as consciousness left him.
"What have you done?" said Mrs Waters, mouth agape.
"Give me a minute to take out the garbage," replied Jack. He dragged Ron's lackeys out into the street, dumping them in front of the shop. Only Ron remained inside.
"How long's this been going on?" he asked, sitting down near the unconscious body.
"A few years. As they got bigger, they got bolder. Put some serious hurting on some folks that tried to say no. They drove away most of my customers all too easily. Even if you do pay, they still like to hurt you to show you who's in charge." She pointed to her eye.
"Why didn't anyone try to stop them?"
"A few tried but they ended up all the worst for it. A couple even disappeared." Mrs Waters smiled at Jack. "Why have you really come back, Jack?"
“I had enough. Decided it wasn’t for me.”
“Was it that bad?”
“No.” Jack shrugged. "I never chose to become a priest. My mother sold me to them for a silver coin. And I’m no one’s slave."
"Did they keep you chained up? Is that why it’s taken you so long to get back.”
Jack laughed, imaging trying to do Master Snow’s lessons with a shackle on his ankle. “It was nothing like that. Not once we got there. Truth was, I’d
been meaning to leave but Brendan was there with me so I didn't. They’re sending him to another monastery now so I thought it was time," replied Jack. "I wanted to find my Mum again. Without Brendan, she's all the family I've got left."
"You not got any friends there?"
Jack thought of Bryan, Thomas and Erik. "I've got good friends."
"And they feed you regular? Give you a warm bed to sleep in?"
"Yes."
"And I take it these priests taught you to fight like that? Educated you?"
"Yes."
"Do you mind if I tell you something?"
"No."
"You say you didn't choose to go there. Well, you didn't choose to be born here either. You just were because that's the way it happened. You were happy here because you knew no better but, compared to where you just been, this place is a shit hole where people like me have to put up with idiots like this," Mrs Waters nodded toward Ron, "just to scrape together a living. Maybe if you’d stayed, you’d have ended up just like him.”
Jack looked at the unconscious man at his feet. It wasn’t a hard leap to make to put himself in the thug’s shoes — or rather to put the old Jack in his shoes.
"Seems to me that maybe you were meant for better things than the life you could've had if you stayed here. Maybe the Order rescued you from turning out like Ron here,” continued Mrs Waters as if reading his mind. “Maybe God has a plan for you that is more important than being on the graft. That priest could have just as easily picked people like Ron if he just wanted bodies to fill spaces but he didn't. He wanted good lads who had their hearts in the right places that were doing the wrong things just to survive."
"He took us there in chains, Mrs Waters," said Jack. “Against our will.”
"Probably because he realized you didn't have the common sense to know you were going to be better off." Mrs Waters leaned in closer, smiling. "And so what if your brother's gone elsewhere? That's part of growing up. Did you think you were going to stay attached at the hip for all your lives?"
Jack looked away. "No. But... I just seemed to have lost everyone that I care about. It was just me and Brendan left."
Mrs Waters sighed. "It was horrible what happened to your old father. It was a lovely man and maybe if he hadn't died your mother wouldn't have turned out the way she did, but it was what it was. That's just the way life works. Hopefully she's doing all right now, wherever she is. But you can't turn time back to what it was.
"You've been given a chance to become a part of something bigger, better than anything you could have here in Brixteth. Seems to me you should be thankful rather than resentful."
"I just wished it had been my choice," said Jack, his voice a whisper.
"You've seen the people who have flooded into town over the last few years. Been hard winters for them. The only choice they had was to chance it here or risk starving where they were. Seems like no choice when you think about it like that. Your Mum had to pick between seeing you swing or sending you to a place where they would look after you. Make you better than what she could. I can’t see she had a choice either." Mrs Waters sighed. "I didn't choose to be picked on by thugs. I'm just glad you came along to protect me. And we both know there are a lot worse things out in the world than the idiot at my feet."
"The Nostros," said Jack.
Mrs Waters made the sign of the circle. "We need you to protect us, Jack. I'm sorry but I don't see you having any choice either."
Jack ran his hands through his hair. He thought about Mrs Waters. Big John. Hamish. His mother wherever she may be. He imagined the demon from the vault coming after them. Attacking Brixteth. It would be the end of everyone and everything he cared about. He looked out the window at everyone bustling past. Watched the sea of faces drift past.
It was no choice. "I'll go back."
At their feet, Ron groaned as he attempted to lift his head off the ground.
"What are we going to do about him?" asked Mrs Waters.
"I'm going to show him a thing or two that I've learned while I've been away. After that, he'll not be fit for anything other than begging in the street."
Mrs Waters laughed. "You do that and I'll have a nice hot chicken pie ready for you when you're done. Then you can get your head down and on your way back to the monastery in the morning, nice and rested."
Jack bent down and picked up one of Ron's legs. "I'd like that, Mrs Waters. I'd like that a lot."
18
708 PN
"You enjoy working in the stables, Grais?" asked Lin.
Her old friend smiled. "Damn sight better than working the stone," he replied. "And turns out I like horses more than I do most people. They're not going to turn you over or knife you in the back. They're noble creatures with beautiful souls." He rubbed the nose of a large black stallion and it snuffled in appreciation.
Grais had transferred to the stables three years earlier. Old Jahn's crew had been fixing the stables when the Head Groomsman spotted Grais calming down a distressed horse. They'd moved him before the shift ended. Along with the job, he'd been given new living quarters too. Lin hadn't seen him since.
He hadn't changed that much though. Bigger, broader, and his golden hair fell to his shoulders but he still had that easy smile of his. The same good looks. Lin found herself straightening up under his gaze. She'd grown a lot of the last year and was still trying to adjust to being so tall. She just hoped Grais didn't notice the blush creeping across her cheeks.
"How long do you think you'll need my help?" she asked.
"Sila's got the fever that's going around. Hopefully, he'll shake it off quick enough but..." Grais rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked over his shoulder towards the living quarters at the back of the stables. He didn't need to say anymore. There was a good chance Sila wouldn't be back at all. The fever was indiscriminate about whom it took and whom it didn't. Lin's own crew had been hit hard by it. Five dead, another eight bed-ridden who could go either way. Jaar was among them. As pleased as she was to see Grais again, she wished she could be there to nurse her friend. At least Jaar was strong. If anyone were going to survive the fever, it’d be him.
"I know everyone's stretched thin but I've got the Lord's horses to look after here so when they told me I'd be getting some extra help," continued Grais, "I thought of my little friend Lin and asked for you. Get you a break from slinging rock about." He looked her up and down. "Of course you're not so little anymore are you? How old are you now?"
Lin brushed the hair from her face and grinned to hide the awkwardness she was feeling. "I'm thirteen."
Grais laughed. "You must b
e one of the old hands. Old Jahn still bossing it as always?"
"Yeah, he'll always be in charge. There's no one better in the crew. At least he's fair," replied Lin.
"What about the Scrounger? I'll never forget that kicking Jahn gave him."
Lin dropped her eyes to the ground. She'd kept the fact she'd been behind everything secret. If no one knew, no one could tell on her. Six years may have passed but that didn't mean she could slip up now. She'd not even told Pet'r or Jaar. "Scrounger's the same. Pushing his luck and trying it on with everybody. At least he leaves me alone these days. Not everyone's so lucky. And he's not even the worst nowadays. Krin, one of the lads who joined with us, has grown into a right monster. Everyone's wary about him."
"I think I remember him. Hanging with the Scrounger, trying to look tough."
"That's him."
Grais picked up a feed bag and looped it over the stallion's head. "That's why I prefer horses. Life's hard enough without having to deal with that nonsense. At least you've got a few nights away from that lot. A change is as good as a rest as they say."
"So what you need me to do?" asked Lin.
"Nothing hard to start with. Muck out the stables. Help me with the feeding. In a night or two, I'll show you how to groom the horses but I won't worry about teaching anything more than that until we know if you're staying longer."
"Doesn't sound too difficult," agreed Lin, looking around. "Not after working the stone."
"Don't say that just yet. We've sixteen horses here in these stables alone. That's a lot of dirty straw and shit to clean up in itself. You may not thank me after a few hours."
The stables were luxurious compared to anything Lin was used to. Each horse had its own stall with plenty of room for it to move around in — space that could fit at least three sets of racks if it was a human's living space. Even the smell was a welcome change from what she was used to. For some reason, the mix of straw, feed and horse made Lin think of a world outside the castle.
