Joseph D'Lacey - Meat

‘Yes. I can take you straight there.’

‘Why don’t you just tell us where it is and we’ll go?’

‘I suppose I could do that but I’ve only been there once. I think there’d be a better chance of sending your men to the right place if I retraced my steps.’

‘Like any stockman worth his wages, I know bullshit when I smell it. You’re lying to me.’

‘No. I’m not lying. If you want me to tell you the way, I will. But the Grand Bishop’s best Parsons are on their way out there right now. If you want your men to beat them to it, I suggest you allow me to go along.’

‘Fuck. Fuck it. You filthy fucking… how do they know where he is?’

Shanti shrugged. He noticed the way Magnus’s body shook. It wasn’t just anger. Even his head seemed to wobble.

‘I told them.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You told the Grand Bishop where that skinny lunatic is hiding with his skinny lunatic pals?’

‘I had no choice.’

‘Death’s going to be too good for your wife and daughters, Shanti. Far too good.’

‘If I hadn’t told them, I wouldn’t be here giving you the same information, Mr. Magnus. I haven’t told them the best route. There’s a chance they’ll get a little lost along the way. I’ve bought you some time and you’re standing here wasting it. Do you want Collins for yourself or not?’

‘No one talks to me that way, Shanti.’

‘If I lead your men to the hideout successfully and you take Collins, I want your guarantee that you won’t harm my family.’

Magnus snorted.

‘Harm? You haven’t got a fucking clue.’

‘I’m serious. If you want to stay in control of the town, time’s running out. Promise me you won’t hurt them.’

‘I believe my invitation to you was quite specific, Shanti. You’re late. Very late. And I don’t like to be disrespected.’

‘What have you done to them?’

‘Oh, I haven’t had a chance to get started. Not properly. Not yet.’

Shanti thought about the crying and the erection that still beat beneath Magnus’s robe.

‘Let me see them.’

‘No. I’ll tell you this much, though. Your wife is a natural convert to cuckoldry. There’s nothing she won’t do for her family. You should be very proud.’

‘My girls. What about my girls?’

‘Ah. Now they’re a very different story of course. A real revelation to me. I’ve never had the pleasure of twins before, though I’ve seen plenty their age. And much younger. Let’s just say that I’ve been very gently introducing them to the duties of womanhood.’

Nausea and rage rose up inside Shanti. He felt what little control he had slipping away.

‘Please. Let me see them.’

‘No. But I’ll tell you what. If you and my men come back with John Collins before the Parsons get him, I give you my word I won’t touch any of your family again. But you must both return or I’ll do whatever I want with them. And it won’t take days or weeks, it’ll be years. Pleasure for me and whatever they can salvage from it. Understand, Shanti? You bring him back. You bring John Collins back to me alive. Then and only then will your family be safe.’ His erection had subsided. He adjusted the dressing gown around his shoulders and smoothed it over his paunch. ‘I have to say, I’m a little disappointed to have been interrupted but,’ he spread his palms wide, ‘business before pleasure, eh? That’s what sorts the winners from the losers in this world.’

Magnus walked to the study door and shouted downstairs.

‘Bruno! Take everyone you can spare and get down to the Derelict Quarter. Shanti here is going to take you to see our old friend. Make sure they both come back alive. If you run into the Parsons out there,’ he considered for a moment,‘take them down. All of them.’

He turned back into the study.

‘I believe you mentioned something about running out of time, Shanti.’

And then Shanti was sprinting again. Behind him came Magnus’s burly guards, black coattails snapping at their heels.

After what felt like far too long but what could only have been a few seconds, Parson James Jessup ran into the fray. His brothers were struggling to recover from the shock of the attack. They had no cohesion or formation. They needed a centre.

‘On me!’ he shouted.

The other Parsons seemed to awaken at his call and realise the extent of their jeopardy. They fell towards him; their ranks thickened and gained strength. Their training surfaced and they timed their blows as a unit. The Godless attackers – Parson James Jessup could only assume that these were Collins’s followers and that Collins was among them – pursued them.

The onslaught did not falter but it slowed. The Parsons ceased to fall as often but Parson James Jessup gauged that they had already lost thirty men. That left seventy against the thirty in opposition. It should still have been easy odds but it was not. He moved to the edge of their circle and took the place of a fallen comrade. It was not obvious what had brought the man down. No dark patch on his robes suggested a wound beneath them. No marks on his head or face showed the landing of a blow. But Parson James Jessup had seen men fall many times and he was certain his brother was dead. Most certain.

He found himself facing the Godless tramp that had felled him.

He swung his club in anger, a curve that was swift and heavy. It would stave in the woman’s head when it made contact. But when the bone reached its target, the woman was no longer in its path. He couldn’t see how she had managed to move. Thinking he’d misjudged the distance, he swung back in the natural opposite direction calculating for his mistake. This time he saw that she moved not when she saw the blow coming but somehow just before, almost at the moment he thought of it. Any moment now her attack would come and he was wasting energy on roundhouse swings that made him look like a brawler in Dino’s at the end of a Saturday night.

He feinted. She dodged, and, knowing exactly where she would go, he used the club in a thrusting motion. It made contact with her solar plexus – exactly as he’d planned. She was already moving away from the blow, though, and it connected without the weight he’d hoped. As he recovered his balance she was back in his face again and he could see the calm exultation in her expression. The certainty of purpose and utter absence of fear. And this, more than any speed she’d shown, was what shook his belief.

Behind him he heard the cries of shock and frustration as the other Parsons faced the same agility, the same self-assuredness and he knew that they would die.

All of them.

Swiftly.

Without mercy.

And yet, without malice.

It made him think of the Chosen.

He had to slow down so that Magnus’s men could keep up with him.

The stamping of dozens of pairs of boots echoed off the cracked pavements of Abyrne’s streets as the black-coated army passed through. All the men loped, beefy and bulky. Shanti ran at the front of them like a whippet before a pack of wolves. Townsfolk shrank into doorways, peeped from windows and pressed themselves back against damp brick walls as the mobsters ran by. Magnus’s men, upholding their pride, pretended the running wasn’t affecting them as they clattered through the streets, but when they reached the fringe of the Derelict Quarter they let their faces show the pain. None of them was as fit as Shanti. Not by miles.

In the shattered, abandoned districts of the Derelict Quarter, while Shanti still ran lightly over every obstacle, the others stumbled and lumbered.

‘…Wait,’ shouted Bruno. ‘Stop… a moment… damn you.’

Shanti glanced over his shoulder and slowed a little.