“Quickly, Evelyn.” I hear the urgency in his tone and move. We take the back door out of the tavern and as the door closes behind me, I hear the now familiar voice of Constable Richard echoing through the pub. My eyes widen and my heart starts pounding as I hurry along behind Gray, jogging down a street and turning down an alley.
It’s nearly fully dark out now. Lanterns and fire barrels are lit around town, providing little islands of light which people travel between with torches or lanterns, or with tagalong boys; kids who carry torches for some coin. London at night is dark and very dangerous even so.
“Damn, that was close. Was that why you stopped so suddenly?” I cross my arms and stand in front of him. He looks just as frustrated as I feel, running his hands through his long hair and leaning back against the wall.
“Richard. He was there to stop the fight. I shouldn’t have gotten so distracted. I’m sorry, Evelyn.” I put my back against the wall opposite him and sigh. So that’s what happened—he saved me from Richard’s presence.
“No need to apologise. Thank you. So, what now?” I ask, trying to pull him from his thoughts. I want to talk to him about touching me, and what happened, but now isn’t the right time for him.
“Our next soul is around the corner from here,” he says, finally looking at me. His eyes have returned to normal as he regains his composure. I nod and push off the wall. Gray does the same and walks in front of me to lead the way.
Around the corner, the alley is dark, a fire pit flickering near the end gives just enough light to make out shapes. We slowly walk down and soft sobs come from my right. I peer around some crates and on the floor is a little boy, clutching his headand a loaf of bread to his chest. Half of his forehead is deformed, pushed in as if something had bashed it in. Blood leaks from his nose and ears.
“This is Callum. He stole that bread for his sister but the crowd in town got him. He found his way here to hide but he’s not going to make it, Evelyn.”
I gasp and look at Gray. “Why didn’t you stop this? He’s just a young lad, Gray!”
“I cannot intervene. I can make death quicker or slower, but I cannot stop it. Today was his day, and this is how he was always going to die.” Gray sits on the floor in front of the boy, so I do the same, pulling his small body onto my crossed legs and holding him. His entire face is covered in blood and his sobs are so gentle and quiet.
“Hey, Callum, I have you, okay? Don’t be scared. You won’t be in pain anymore.Shhhh,” I whisper to him.
He moves his bread closer to me and I pick it up, passing it to Gray. My heart twists in anguish for this child;Iwas an urchin once, this could have so easily been me.
“Your mother and father are waiting for you. They’re excited to see you again, young one,” Gray tells him. Callum manages to look up to Gray and then me. He closes his eyes and drifts off in my arms. He needed my hug, one final comfort. His soul makes its way to my necklace as I stare down at the boy in my arms.
Death like this isn’t for me. I can easily torture and kill almost anyone, but when it comes to children, they don’t deserve this. I place him back down where I found him and stand up, wrapping my arms around myself walking aimlessly. I feel Gray follow, keeping silent.
I feel a single tear rolling down my face and I don’t bother to wipe it away. It’s for that little boy, who deserved so much more than he got.
“I’m done for today.” I don’t look at Gray as I make my way back to the stables to collect Ada. I mount her, taking a look around me before I move. Gray isn’t near me anymore, he’s over by a group of children gathered around a fire pit, offering them the bread that Callum stole.
I click my tongue and push my heels into Ada to get her moving, not even bothering to see if he was following me.
“Take me home, girl.”
Chapter Eighteen
I clingto Ada as she runs, my hands buried in her mane, face pressed to her warmth. The night splits around us. I can’t see through my tears, all I can picture—again, and again—is that boy’s crushed skull, the strange, broken shape of it. His blood, his silence.
I want to scream. I want to tear the world open for letting it happen. I’ve killed men before, plenty, but that was out of duty; always measured, sanctioned.
This was something else.
This was rot.
I blink and I’m somewhere else.
I’m eleven again, watching from the corner of a filthy street as a man brings his boot down on a child’s head. The sound clings within me. I remember the red. The smell. My scream.
Then, I’m sixteen, my knife sliding through another man’s throat because he did the same thing to a girl I once knew.
Sarah.
Her name returns like a wound reopening. I’d forgotten her face, her laugh, her breath against my neck. We’d kissed. We’d done more. I loved her, though I never said it. Never even knew how to.
A sob cuts out of me before I can stop it, sharp and raw. Ada takes me home without needing to be told, and I hang on, shaking so hard I can barely sit straight.
Back in my cottage, I shiver under a blanket, staring at food I can’t eat. My mouth tastes of salt and iron. I keep listening for him, for Gray, but the silence presses in.
