John Hawks - The Dark River

“Some of the children,” Mrs. Stillwell explained. “Right now, we’re taking care of six. Yours would be lucky number seven. We got Gloria here from the court system. Ahmed is a private arrangement.” Looking annoyed, she clapped her hands. “That’s enough, you two. Can’t you see we’ve got guests?”

The two children glanced at each other and left the room. Mrs. Stillwell herded Vicki and Alice over to the couch, but Maya and Linden remained standing. “Tea, anyone?” Mrs. Stillwell asked. “Cup of tea?” Some animal part of her sensed that the two Harlequins were dangerous. Her face was flushed and she kept glancing at Linden’s hands-the blunt fingers and scarred knuckles.

A shadow appeared in the doorway, and then an older man smoking a cigarette entered the room. An alcoholic’s saggy face. Frayed trousers and a stained pullover. “This the new one?” the man asked, looking at Alice.

“My husband, Mr. Stillwell…”

“So we got two blacks, two whites, Ahmed and Gerald, who’s a mixed-breed. She’ll be our first Chinese.” Mr. Stillwell made a wheezy little laugh. “Bloody United Nations around here.”

“What’s your name?” Mrs. Stillwell asked Alice.

Alice sat on the edge of the couch with her feet flat on the rug. Maya moved toward the doorway in case the child tried to run away.

“Is she deaf or retarded?” Mr. Stillwell asked.

“Maybe she only speaks Chinese.” Mrs. Stillwell leaned over the child. “You speakee English? This is your new home.”

“Alice doesn’t talk at all,” Vicki said. “She needs special help.”

“We don’t give special help, ducks. We just feed and water them.”

“You’ve been offered five hundred pounds a month,” Linden said. “I’ll make that a thousand if you take her right now. Three months from now, Mr. Singh will check on the situation. If there’s a problem, he’ll take her away.”

The Stillwells glanced at each other and nodded. “A thousand pounds is all right,” Mr. Stillwell said. “I can’t work anymore because of me back…”

Alice jumped off the couch and ran toward the door. Instead of trying to get away, she flung her arms around Maya.

Vicki was crying. “Don’t,” she whispered to Maya. “Don’t let them do this.”

Maya felt the child’s body pressed against her, the slender arms holding tight. No one had ever touched her like this before. Save me .

“Let go, Alice.” Maya’s voice was deliberately harsh. “Let go of me right now.”

The little girl sighed and then stepped away. For some reason, the act of obedience made everything worse. If Alice had fought to leave the house, Maya would have twisted the child’s arms back and forced her onto the floor. But Alice obeyed, just like Maya had obeyed Thorn all those years ago. And the memories pushed into Maya’s thoughts, almost overpowering her-the brutal slaps and shouting, the betrayal in the underground when her father had set her up to fight three grown men. Perhaps the Harlequins defended the Travelers, but they also defended their own arrogant pride.

Ignoring the others, she faced Linden. “Alice isn’t staying here. She’s going with me.”

“That’s not possible, Maya. I’ve already made the decision.”

Linden’s right hand touched his sword case and then dropped to his side. Maya was the only other person in the room who understood that gesture. Harlequins never made empty threats. If they ended up fighting, he would try to kill her.

“Do you think you can intimidate me?” Maya said. “I’m Thorn’s daughter. Damned by the flesh. Saved by the blood.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Mr. Stillwell asked.

“Be quiet,” Linden said.

“I will not be quiet! You just made an agreement for a thousand quid a month. There might not be a written contract, but I know my rights as an Englishman!”

Without warning, Linden crossed the room, grabbed Stillwell’s throat with one hand, and began to squeeze. Mrs. Stillwell didn’t rush to help her husband. Her mouth opened and shut as if she were swallowing air.

“Now, ducks,” she murmured. “Ducks…Ducks…”

“On certain occasions, I let a taint like you speak to me,” Linden said. “That permission has been withdrawn. Do you understand? Show me you understand!”

Stillwell’s face was bright red. He managed to nod slightly, his eyes jerking back and forth. Linden let go and the old man collapsed onto the floor.

“You know our obligation,” Linden said to Maya. “There’s no way you can fulfill that promise and keep this child.”

“Alice saved me when I was in New York. I was in a dangerous place and she risked her life to grab a pair of night-vision goggles. I have an obligation to her as well.”

Linden’s face was frozen, and his entire body was tense. His fingers touched the sword case a second time. Directly behind the Harlequin, a silent television showed images of happy children eating breakfast cereal.

“I’ll watch Alice,” Vicki said. “I promise. I’ll do everything…”

Linden pulled a wallet out of his coat pocket, took out some fifty-pound notes, and tossed them onto the floor like pieces of trash.

“You have no idea what pain is- real pain,” he told the Stillwells. “Mention this to anyone and you’ll find out.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Stillwell babbled. “We understand, sir.”

Linden marched from the room. The Stillwells were on their hands and knees, scrambling for the money, when the rest of the group walked out.

Clutching a straight razor, Jugger scowled and slashed the air near Gabriel’s head. “The Ripper has returned to London and he’s hungry for blood!”

Sebastian was sitting in a lawn chair next to the portable electric heater. He looked up from his paperback copy of Dante’s Inferno and frowned. “Stop playing the fool, Jugger. Just finish the job.”

“I’m finishing. In fact, this is one of my better efforts.”

Jugger squirted some shaving cream on the tips of his fingers, dabbed it on the skin near Gabriel’s ears, and then used the razor to cut off the American’s sideburns. When he was done, he wiped off the residue with his shirtsleeve and grinned. “There you go, mate. You’re a new man.”

Gabriel got up from the stool and walked over to the cast-off mirror hanging on the wall near the door. The cracked glass cut a jagged line through his body, but he could see that Jugger had given him a very short military haircut. His new appearance wasn’t on the level of Maya’s special contact lenses and finger shields, but it was better than nothing.

“Isn’t Roland supposed to be back by now?” Gabriel asked.

Jugger checked the time on his mobile phone. “It’s his turn for dinner tonight, so he’s buying food. You helping him cook?”

“I don’t think so. Not after I burned the spaghetti sauce last night. I asked him to check something out for me. That’s all.”

“He’ll handle it, mate. Roland’s good at simple tasks.”

“Unbelievable! Dante just fainted again .” Disgusted, Sebastian threw the book onto the floor. “Virgil should have guided a Free Runner through hell.”

Gabriel left what used to be a front parlor and climbed up the narrow wooden staircase to his room. Frost decorated the upper walls and he could see his breath. For the last ten days, he had been living with Jugger, Sebastian, and Roland in a squat called the Vine House on the south bank of the Thames. The ramshackle three-story building had once been a farmhouse in the middle of the vineyards and vegetable gardens that supplied London.

Gabriel had learned one thing about eighteenth-century Englishmen-they were smaller than the current inhabitants of London. When he reached the top floor, he ducked his head down to pass through the doorway and enter the garret. It was a tiny, bare room with a low ceiling and plaster walls. The floorboards creaked when he crossed the room and peered out through the bull’s-eye window.