Brom: The Child Thief

Bennie slapped his phone shut. “Check his bag.”

Freddie grabbed the pack. Nick jerked it away and scrambled to his feet, but Freddie nabbed him before he made half a step, wrestling him into a painful armlock.

Bennie yanked the pack out of Nick’s hand.

“Wonder what’s in here?” he said sarcastically and unzipped the pack. He let loose a whistle and held it out for Jake and Freddie to see. Their eyes got big.

“Fuck! Must be a hundred gees worth,” Freddie said.

Jake looked at Nick in amazement. “Cuzz, Marko’s gonna cut you up and feed you to the fishies.”

Nick jerked an arm free and tried to twist away, started screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs. Bennie hit him. It felt like a flare went off in his head. Nick started to yell again when Bennie drilled him in the stomach, doubling him over. Bennie snatched him up by the hair and leaned right into his face. “You wanna run?” Bennie grinned, then grabbed the sides of Nick’s pants, yanking them down to his ankles. “Go on. Run .”

Nick coughed and wheezed, trying to suck in a breath.

“Let ’im go,” Bennie said.

Freddie let go.

Nick clutched his stomach and almost fell over.

“C’mon pussy,” Bennie said. “Whaddaya waiting for? Take off.”

Both Jake and Freddie let out a snort.

Bennie shoved Nick. Nick stumbled, did a duck-waddle, but managed to keep his feet despite his pants twisting around his ankles.

Freddie and Jake crowed with laughter.

Then Bennie hit Nick like a linebacker. Nick’s feet tangled and he slammed to the ground.

“Check his pants and underwear,” Bennie said. “Little queer probably stuffed the stash up his ass.”

Freddie patted Nick down. He shoved a hand in Nick’s pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. “Pay— day !”

“Give me that,” Bennie said, taking the bills. “That’s Marko’s money.”

Bennie leaned over to Nick, so close that Nick could see tomato sauce stains on the sides of his mouth. “Marko said he’s bringing his toolbox. Said it’s gonna be a real horror show. I love horror shows. Do you?”

The limb above them shook and a host of leaves rained down. There followed a soft thump. Nick and Freddie saw him first. When Bennie and Jake caught their faces, they both jerked around.

A boy, not much taller than Nick, stood on the pathway. He wore some sort of hand-stitched leather pants with pointy-toed boots sewn right into them. He also had on a raggedy tuxedo jacket, the old style, the kind with tails, with a black hoodie on underneath and a rawhide pack, almost a purse, strung across his chest. The boy pushed the hood back, revealing a tussle of reddish, shoulder-length hair littered with twigs and leaves. A sprinkle of freckles danced across his cheeks and nose. The boy’s ears were, well, kinda pointy, just like Spock’s, like one of Santa’s little helpers, but oddest of all, his eyes were bright gold.

The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. “My name’s Peter. Can I play too?”

THE CHILD THIEFstudied the teenagers, making sure to keep up his smile, making sure to hide his disdain. Have to be wily , he thought. Don’t want to spoil the fun .

He looked at the numbed, perplexed expressions on the three older teens and thought, They’re blind. Blind as a nut in a nutshell. There’s magic all around them and they don’t see a lick of it . How could this be possible? Only a few short years ago, possibly only a few months, they were still children, their minds in bodies full of magic, open and alive to all the enchantments swirling around them. Now look at them, miserable, self-conscious fuckwits, going to spend the rest of their lives trying to find something they never even realized they’d lost .

I’d be doing them a favor. To gut the three of them . His eyes gleamed at the thought. Hell, and it’d be fun too. Watching their faces as they juggled their own guts. Much fun indeed . But he wasn’t here to have fun. He was here to make a new friend.

Peter glanced at the boy with his pants around his ankles, the one fighting so hard to hold back his tears. He needed to win this child over, for you couldn’t take children into the Mist against their will. The Mist would never allow it. You could, however, lead a child into the Mist. So they had to trust you. And you didn’t get children to trust you by gutting teenagers right in front of them, not even mean, ugly teenagers. That wasn’t the way to make new friends.

Peter found that he enjoyed this part of the game—winning the hearts of children, getting a chance to play for a while. Games are important. Why, it’s playing, is it not, that separates me from the likes of these dull-eyed cocksuckers?

So the child thief decided he would just play with them.

“ CAN I PLAYtoo?” the boy repeated.

Freddie tensed, his grip tightening. Nick guessed Freddie was as unnerved by this redheaded, golden-eyed boy as he was.

“Who da fuck are you?” Bennie spat.

“Peter.”

“What da fuck you want?”

“To play,” Peter said, sounding exasperated. “How many times I gotta ask, birdybrain?”

Bennie’s unibrow squeezed together. “Birdybrain?” And, for the first time Nick could remember, Bennie looked at a loss. Bennie glanced at Freddie as though unsure if he’d been insulted or not.

“Oh man. Kid, you shouldn’t done that,” Freddie said. “He’s gonna kill you for that one.”

But Bennie didn’t look like he was going to kill anyone. Because guys like Bennie weren’t used to kids giving them shit, and it threw him off balance.

“So, what are the rules?” Peter asked.

“What?” Bennie said, his unibrow forming a confused knot.

“Gee wiz,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “The rules, ball-sack. What are the rules to the pants game?”

“Rules?” Bennie said, no longer sounding confused, but pissed, and regaining some of his equilibrium. Bennie slammed Nick’s pack to the ground and jabbed a finger at Peter. “I don’t play by no fucking rules, asshole!”

“Good,” Peter said, and before anyone could blink, he darted forward and yanked Bennie’s baggy sweatpants all the way down to his ankles.

“POINT!” Peter called.

There was a frozen moment when Bennie just stood there with his mouth agape, staring down at his own skivvies. As a matter of fact, everyone was staring at Bennie’s skivvies, and they weren’t the spiffy Calvin Klein kind either. It looked like Bennie had some hand-me-downs, old-school generic white briefs with several generations’ worth of stains and holes in them.

Bennie’s face went lava-lamp red, and when he looked back up, his squinty little eyes appeared ready to pop out of their squinty little sockets.

“YOU LITTLE PRICK!” Bennie cried, and grabbed for Peter. But the boy was fast, unbelievably fast. Nick couldn’t remember seeing anyone move that fast, ever . Bennie missed, his feet tangled in his pants, and down he went, holey underwear and all, hitting the sidewalk like a fat sack of dough.

Bennie’s antics were rewarded by an uproariously hearty laugh from the boy with the pointy ears. And all at once Nick found himself smiling. He couldn’t help it. Freddie shoved him back and jumped for Peter.

Peter skipped out of the way, effortlessly, stomping right on Bennie’s head as he did so, smashing Bennie’s face into the sidewalk. Nick heard a crunch that made him cringe, followed by a scream from Bennie. When Bennie looked back up, his nose sat at an odd angle and blood was pouring out of it.

“Holy crap,” Nick said.