The Umbral Wake

by Martin Kee

  Harold pushed it at her, forcing it into her hands. “Come back and I’ll see if I can find one for your little sister. I’d hate to see you lose someone you love.”

  She took the mask, glancing at the picture as she turned away. She remembered the coin, and out of habit pulled it from her pocket. She froze as she held it in front of him.

  “Really?” he laughed. “Is this just for your amusement now?”

  She blushed. “Habit, sorry.” She placed it in his hand anyway. “Look, just humor me. Take it as a gift.”

  As his large hand closed over the coin, Gil felt a slight pang of regret. Skyla’s going to kill me.

  Harold looked at the coin a moment, then placed it on the workbench. “You come back tomorrow and I’ll give it back to you. And take the back exit today. I’ve got the front bolted.”

  She smiled, went to the back door, and froze.

  An older boy stood there, tall and lanky. Black eyes peered at her from beneath a mop of greasy hair. His skin looked raw, marred by small cuts and scabs, but otherwise hairless. He grinned at her with crooked yellow teeth as two other boys emerged from behind him. Out came a thin blade, aimed at Gil’s throat. She gasped and took a step back.

  “What is it?” Harold came up behind her and froze. “What’s this? Where the other one?”

  “Oh, he’s busy poppa. We here for very specific thing this time.”

  Harold grabbed her and pulled her behind him as the boy stepped forward, brandishing the blade at Harold’s chest. “Leave the girl out of this.”

  “Aw, that too bad poppa. She real sweet.”

  “You aren’t the other boy.”

  “Aye poppa,” said the face behind the knife. “Yeh expectin someone else? Sorry I ent got no pikters.”

  “I don’t know what you want but the owner is due to arrive at any moment. I suggest you—”

  The boy made a warning jab with the knife, bringing it inches from Harold’s nose. He backed up protectively, moving his hands behind him towards Gil. The two others ducked past him into the store.

  “Gonna have a looksee eh poppa? Maybe ya wait an not move. Maybe we leave tha face in one piece eh? Maybe we leave yo little piece of ass in one piece.”

  Gil could hear them rummaging through the store behind her, knocking items off shelves, overturning crates and scavenging through the contents. Somewhere glass shattered and Harold winced. The youth with the knife grinned.

  “Got it, Hetch!” one of the boys yelled. Hetch nodded then returned his stare up at Harold.

  “Now see, that was an easy one, eh poppa? Sorry your boy not showin’ with the pretty pictures. We put him to better use under the Bowl. Got no time to wait for him with customers and all.”

  The other boys ducked out from the shop. In their hands, they held vials and a sophisticated chronometer Harold had just finished repairing. That was a week’s pay right there, assuming he even had a job after this… and there went Gil’s coin, vanishing into a boy’s pocket. Harold scowled.

  They rushed out past Hetch into the alleyway. Hetch flicked the blade making Harold jump before retracting it back into the handle with a click. He tipped an imaginary hat at Harold, then Gil, and spun on a heel. He moved with the sort of agility and speed only a teenager could muster. There was simply no hope in catching them.

  What Harold didn’t expect was for Gil to give chase.

  “Those assholes!” she hissed, bolting past him, launching herself into the alleyway and vanishing into the streets, her raven emblems clinking on her heels as she ran.

  *

  She turned east towards a delivery route she had seen some of the couriers use. It ran parallel to one of the hospitals. The road snaked between a tailor, bookstore, and several ruined apartments, leaving just enough room for a girl her age to slip through. Her feet splashed through puddles, danced across porches and walls as Gil weaved her way through one neighborhood after another. She could hear them now, their shrill voices laughing at what they had stolen, discussing how much they would get.

  “Poppa still followin’ us Hetch?” one of the boys yelled, laughing. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “He give up.”

  “Ye back in the game now Hetch. No more givin’ orders eh?”

  “I still give the orders, brah. Jus gotta do what’s good for the gang.”

  “I hear that.”

  There was a crash from half a block over and Gil could hear the screeching of tires and a man yelling for them to “Get the hell out of the street.” One boy swore at the man and they all laughed.

  She nearly skidded to a halt behind a rusted car door when she realized she was about to run directly into them. As she ducked, their voices grew louder. Sure enough, not a minute later they appeared, panting and laughing. They were dirty ragged boys, all of them. The tall one, Hetch, looked around a moment before waving them forward. Their voices fell to hushed whispers. It was only until a moment later that she registered footprints approaching from behind her.

  “You said he’d be here,” said one of the boys.

  “Yeah well, he isn’t always on time, Vic.”

  “We should see if we can sell for a higher bidder,” said Vic, looking at the chronometer. “I bet we could get twice as much for—”

  Hetch smacked Vic on the back of the head without looking at him. “You know what your problem is, Vic? You don’t know when to shut up. You don’t see the bigger picture here.”

  “What bigger picture?”

  Hetch rolled his eyes. “We’re providin’ a service, Vic. This job leads to the next and the next. It’s called a steady income, job security.”

  “Well I call it stupid—”

  The boy flinched as Hetch’s hand moved, but it was only to silence him. He stared not at Gil, but just beyond her. She had to repress a shriek as the man walked directly past her hiding place, missing her entirely, and stood to face the boys.

  “Is that the buyer—”

  “Shh!” Hetch took a step forward. “Hey, we got yer stuff brah.”

  The silhouette remained still, almost uncomfortable being in the presence of so much garbage and litter. He looked around casually, the features of his face hidden in the shadow of his tall hat.

  “I see that,” said the man, his voice familiar to Gil. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag. It jingled and Gil had to stop herself from emitting a low whistle.

  “You gonna jus’ show us your coins, or we doin’ business ol man?” Hetch said.

  The man laughed. “That all depends, son. I do business with those who provide me what I need. Do you have the items?”

  “Yeah, brah,” Hetch sauntered forward. “Jus like you said. We got em.”

  “No questions,” said the man.

  Vic opened his mouth but Hetch shot him a glance and he fell silent. “No questions, poppa. You keep dem coins comin and we ain’t gonna ask anything of ya.”

  “What about him?” the man asked. “Your partner seems to have a problem.”

  “Naw, Vic ain’t no trouble poppa. We got an understanding.”

  Vic whispered something and Hetch slapped him. The man in the hat watched this silently, his gloved hand flexing in irritation.

  “Are you going to show me the items?”

  Hetch tossed the bag to the man, who then fumbled the coin purse. It fell to the ground with a sound that hinted at the wealth inside.

  “Try to take some care!” he yelled. “These items are worth more than your scrawny hide.”

  “What I don’t get,” said Hetch. “Is why you need us to steal that at all?”

  “I prefer discretion, and like to keep my sources somewhat anonymous,” he said. “A couple of boy gangs stealing loot will get buried in the paperwork. A man like me, however… well it would cause unnecessary complications.”

  “Whatever, poppa. I’m happy with my own empire. You have fun with yours.” Hetch laughed. “Coins.”

  “Oh, yes.” In one deft move, the man kicked t
he coin purse across the ground. Hetch scooped it up. “There’s more, especially when it comes time to deliver the package once it is ready, assuming your gang can handle that.”

  “We can handle anything.”

  “This isn’t a paper delivery,” hissed the man. “When the time comes, we need perfect timing, not a moment wasted. If your team can’t handle it, I’ll find a team that can.”

  “Relax poppa, we got the perfect idiot for the job. He ain’t telling no one.”

  “I have your guarantee?”

  “He can’t tell no one, poppa.”

  The man paused for a moment, considering this. “All right. We’ll meet again when the package is ready.”

  “You got a funny way of doing things,” said Hetch. “I seen you before, and I never expected you to be doing things like this.” He held up his hands defensively. “Not that I have a problem with it. We cool, brah.”

  “People do things in the shadows of their lives all the time, son. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

  “Whatever.” Hetch shrugged. “So how we know when you’re ready.”

  The man locked eyes with Hetch for a moment, and Gil thought that she saw a hint of fear in the boy. “Because I’m the one giving the orders in this city, you understand? When the time comes, you’ll hear from me and your boy will do as you tell him. You’ll get your money.”

  “That’s cool, poppa. We get our money, then we don’t see you anymore.”

  “That depends if you decide to join the movement,” said the man.

  “What movement?” Vic asked. Hetch slapped him, but he continued to stare at the man in the hat.

  He regarded them for a moment. “When the time comes, you may not have a choice,” he said. “A great storm is going to hit this city, so I suggest you be prepared. You can join us willingly, or we’ll recruit you ourselves. The decision is up to you.”

  “What makes you think we’d want to?” Hetch asked.

  “I never said anything about wanting,” said the man. “It’s better to be a hammer than a nail, after all. I think you’ll see it that way soon enough.”

  With that the man turned, his face falling into the setting sunlight for only a moment, illuminating his features. Gil gasped. She knew the man. She had seen him a dozen times before, hidden behind a newspaper as she walked past the shop.

  As he vanished, Vic turned to Hetch and tugged on Hetch’s sleeve.

  “That’s messed up brah,” he said. “Why would he pay us to knock over his own shop?”

  Chapter 22

  Bollingbrook

  DONA FROWNED, HER brow growing more wrinkled with every sentence as she read the letter in front of Tom. It was humiliating. But then, she wasn’t sure what she had been hoping for in the first place.

  Dona,

  Fancy seeing you here.

  I suppose it was a matter of time before I ran into one of you again, but I’m certainly surprised you were able to tear yourself away from your father to find me. Or did your mother let you out again while on one of her drunken binges?

  Did you chase me? I couldn’t tell. I even slowed down a few times to give you plenty of advantage, what with your massive tree stump legs and all. I think it’s fair to say you are not built for speed.

  So how are you? Still playing your sports to try and cover the fact your father beats you? Still getting all those bruises in just the right places to avoid any messy questions?

  Well, I’ve got to run. I have to go stew some children or maybe kill a puppy, since that’s what we witches do and all, right?

  I do hope we see each other again. I’d love to see you running from me for a change. I’ll even show up there again in case you want to give it another go. Don’t worry. I’ll give you a head start.

  -Skyla

  From Julian’s bedroom window she could see the Grand Cathedral, lit from below, now blurred by anger. She folded the letter, shoving it into her pocket, her cheeks hot with rage. She barely even felt Tom’s hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t so much the things written in the letter as much as it was the humiliation of reading them in front of Tom and Julian.

  “Wow,” said Tom from over her shoulder. “She really hates you.”

  “I’ll kill her,” she muttered.

  “You don’t mean that,” Tom said.

  She dabbed at the corners of her eyes a moment, struggling to get a grip on her emotions. “No,” she said. “No I don’t mean it… not literally… three years ago maybe.” She forced a smile but failed.

  “What is it then?”

  Dona turned to look at him. “Really, what would it solve at this point? The letter was so unnecessarily cruel. She wouldn’t have written it unless she wanted to spur me on somehow.”

  “At least it means you aren’t crazy,” said Julian. “It also means that if I were you, I’d stay far away from that place without a gun or knife to defend yourself. You remember the stories and what happened.”

  Of course she remembered. Everyone remembered the night the witch-hunt turned fatal, the burning of a house, Melissa gone missing. Then the crowds showed up, throwing stones at the still smoldering ruins of that little shanty. Everyone was angry and nobody had a single person to blame.

  Maybe that’s how I feel right now, she thought.

  “Are you thinking it’s a trap of some sort?” Tom asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I mean she was wanted for arson, for killing her mother. I’m not sure why she would even respond at all?”

  “To make you angry,” said Tom.

  “No.” Dona shifted her glance between the two boys. “Why draw attention to herself at all? If you were here, wanted by The Church, wanted by the police… Would you make threats unless they couldn’t be traced? Why tempt fate?”

  Tom jabbed a finger at the paper. “If I were you, I’d get this to the archbishop as evidence.”

  Julian was nodding. “She took Father Thomas,” he said, his jaw set. “She took him from us. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts taking more of us.”

  She stared at both the boys, rolling her eyes. “Julian, you have to be joking. She was eleven. I don’t think she was kidnapping anyone.”

  “Maybe her and her mother then.”

  Dona paused a moment. “Listen to yourselves. You’re acting hysterical all of a sudden. Even now, she’s… what… fourteen? What’s she going to do to all of us?”

  “I’ve just seen what the girl is capable of,” said Julian.

  “Have you really, Jules?” Her glare was enough to make him take a step backwards. “Have you actually witnessed it?”

  “I have actually,” he said. “I was there at the stampede that killed that woman.”

  “And what did you see?”

  Julian flushed. “I was in the back when it happened. But when I returned it... Look, I lost Father Thomas. We all did. She’s to blame.”

  “Okay, look,” she said. “I know this is crazy, and I’m sure you’d like revenge, Julian, but this is between me and her.”

  There was a knock and Julian left the room. Dona and Tom stared at each other as delicate footsteps rose up the stairs. Julian entered the room again with Victoria in tow. She gave Dona a pouty look.

  “Julian told me at the door. I’m so sorry, Dona.”

  She shrugged. “That’s what I get for trying to be kind.”

  “It gets you nowhere,” said Victoria. “Trust me I’ve tried and some people just can’t be bothered even when you extend the softest hand of charity. What did she have to say?”

  Dona pulled the wrinkled note out and handed it to her. As Victoria read it, her eyes grew steadily wider. She glanced at Dona from over the note and gasped.

  “This is horrible!” She tossed it to the floor. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s asking for another intervention.”

  “Forget it,” said Dona. “It’s just not worth it. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nonsense,” said Victoria. “She
can’t be allowed to hurt people the way she does and get away with it. In fact…” Plucking the note from the floor, she began to tuck it away in a pouch on her side. “My employers will be very interested in this confession.”

  Dona grabbed it back before it disappeared, placing the letter into her own pocket instead.

  “Really, Vicky, it’s not that important.”

  She stood, but Victoria walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t hear another word.” She moved her tongue beneath her lip. “The girl needs to be brought before a court. You and I both know it.” Dona felt cold.

  “What are you suggesting?” asked Tom from the kitchen. “A lynching?”

  “Oh, Tom,” Victoria made a face. “Always so brutish with your descriptions. No, I think we should simply go to the house and pay her a visit. We’ve proof that she is squatting there. That’s one more crime to the list.”

  “I don’t know…” said Dona.

  “I’ve just gotten the latest Untamed Passions series of books. Remember how we used to have such fun reading those novellas until dawn? I could bring them and we could stay up late in the Montegut estate and see if she returns. It will be fun! And in the mean time you can come to terms with this and confront her.” Her voice had reached a desperate pitch.

  Dona looked at the note again. “I’m not feeling well, Vicky. I’m sorry. Can we do it another time?”

  Something went cold in Victoria’s eyes, and she gave a curt smile. “That’s fine. I guess you can go home. But I feel like sometimes you don’t really value my friendship, Dona. I think you might just be using me to keep your secrets.”

  “And what secret is that?”

  Victoria said nothing, instead turning her cool gaze to Tom.

  “Vicky, you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m just saying that if I had to choose between my friends and the truth, if the archbishop was asking me a direct question, I would always choose my friends.” She turned her gaze back to Dona. “And we are still friends?”

  Tom stood frozen in the kitchen, one hand on the kettle. His gaze switched nervously between the two girls.