Vowed

by Liz de Jager

  ‘What do you mean?’ I frown at him as I head down the stairs at a much slower pace than going up. I cradle my helmet under my arm.

  ‘You can’t know you’ll be able to protect them or save Adam if that thing comes for him again.’

  ‘I know that I will do my utmost to find out what it is and to hunt it down. Blackharts do not easily give their word.’

  ‘You’re making promises you can’t possibly keep. What if it comes back tonight and takes Adam?’

  ‘Then I will hunt it down and find Adam and bring him back.’

  Dante grumbles under his breath. ‘You’re not listening to what I’m saying here.’

  ‘No.’ I stop and look at him. He’s one step behind me so I have to look up at him. ‘I am listening to what you’re saying. My word is my bond. That boy is as safe as he can be. I dumped so much magic in that room it will take one of the Sidhe sorcerers a day to work through the layers of spells I put up.’ I grimace when I read the disbelief in his face. ‘You Spook guys really get my goat. You know magic is real, that monsters exist, but you can’t ever accept it, can you? With all your files and all your technology, magic and flying fairies still freak you out.’

  ‘I suppose we have to be the ones that stay level headed in situations like this,’ he counters, shrugging. ‘And we believe in all these things, but we just try and find a modern way to fix it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, pushing the fire door to the fourth floor open with my shoulder. ‘Good luck with that.’

  The flat Diane shares with her mum, two sisters and cousin is no bigger than the flat we’ve just left, and the living room’s been transformed into a fourth bedroom. I expected a mess, a bit of chaos, but instead it’s like walking into an Aladdin’s cave. The flat strongly reflects the personalities of the women who live in it. There are photos of them everywhere, knick-knacks gathered on trips and no doubt bought for birthdays and Christmas.

  Diane’s room, shared with her cousin, is the same size and on the same side of the block as Adam’s, overlooking a small playground that is in even more of a state than the one to the front.

  ‘My auntie let me have these, so you have to bring them back in exactly the same condition, yeah?’ She pulls the two scrap books back as I reach for them. ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise. I’ll take good care of them, thank you.’

  She presses them into my hands. ‘My auntie’s not been well for a long time. This is how she keeps track of things happening in the area.’

  ‘We’ll be careful. I promise.’

  Dante’s smile would melt the heart of the toughest of people and Diane eventually nods, letting out a bit of a sigh. ‘Okay? You promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We’ll make copies of them and bring them back to you. In tiptop shape.’ I hesitate by the door. ‘Diane, do you know about the Raggedy Man?’

  She grimaces. ‘Yeah, it’s the local bogeyman. The kids like to freak one another out about him. They dare one another to call him. You know, like Bloody Mary?’

  I shudder at the mention of Bloody Mary because if there is one urban legend that is based on a real thing, it’s that and it really does freak me out. The mere idea of standing in front of a mirror and repeating her name three times to see if she would manifest is enough to creep me out. I see plenty creepy things, I don’t need to add Bloody Mary to that.

  ‘Adam said that the thing that tried to get into his room was the Raggedy Man.’

  ‘Look, the whole Raggedy Man thing is weird. There used to be an old guy who lived here. He always kept an eye on the kids. He dressed in weird clothes, this tattered coat, and so the kids gave him that name. He moved away and they still say he shows up now and again.’

  ‘You don’t believe them?’

  ‘I’ve never seen him myself. It was before we moved here.’

  Just then there’s a commotion from the front of the flat. The sound of laughter and shopping and the delicious aroma of food.

  ‘My mum’s back. You’ve got to go.’

  She ushers us out of the room and down the narrow passage into the extra bedroom and towards the door. A statuesque woman in a colourful and intricately folded turban steps out of the kitchen, hands on her ample hips.

  ‘What have we here den, girl? Who are your friends?’ Her accent holds a hint of Jamaican and more than a bit of French too.

  ‘Mami, this is Kit and Dante. They’re from school.’

  I shake Diane’s mum’s hand and I like how strong her grip is. She eyes me up and down and I’m not entirely sure if she approves of what she sees.

  ‘You look familiar,’ she says.

  ‘You might have seen me around,’ I say smiling brightly. I hold up the scrapbooks. ‘We’ve got to run, Mrs . . .’ I flounder, realizing that I have no idea what Diane’s surname is.

  ‘Call me Julia, girl. And you, boy? Why do you wear a suit?’

  Dante looks taken aback by the direct question but only for a second. ‘I work after school. In the city. In my uncle’s office. I do filing.’

  ‘Eh. Now see, Diane? These are the kinds of friends you should have. Not that boy Chem. He is not good news.’

  ‘Mum, please. They have to go. We’ve got school tomorrow.’ Diane jerks her head towards the door in a flagrant attempt to get rid of us. ‘Also, Chem’s a good friend. Things have just been hard for him.’

  I motion for Dante and we head towards the door. I glimpse two other girls in the kitchen, one of them younger than Diane, the other looks older. They are both built along the same lines as Julia and they look definitely interested in what is happening out here. Suddenly I don’t envy Diane the grilling she’s about to undergo when we leave.

  ‘It was nice meeting you, Julia.’ I nod at her and the girls in the kitchen.

  ‘Come visit soon, we can talk about you being friends with my Diane.’

  I’m out in the doorway and as the door swings shut behind Dante I hear one of her sisters say, ‘That boy is hot, Di! He can come back anytime.’ The statement is followed by peals of laughter and an undignified squeak from Diane.

  I start laughing and look up at Dante.

  ‘How do you feel being objectified?’ I ask him.

  His face has taken on a definite red tint along the cheeks. ‘You get used to it,’ he mumbles but, to my amusement, he’s shrunk into his jacket in embarrassment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘You’re wearing your thinking face,’ Dante tells me as we leave the block of flats.

  ‘I have a thinking face?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s like this.’ He scrunches up his nose and wrinkles his forehead. As handsome as he is, it makes him look demented. It’s not a good look.

  ‘I do not look like that!’ But I’m laughing. ‘Geez, you really don’t believe in giving a girl a break, do you?’

  He shrugs and grins at me. ‘Out with it: what are you thinking?’

  ‘That I’d like to come back and check out the outside of the building, specifically the wall where Adam’s window’s located.’

  ‘That’s six floors up. Can you fly?’

  ‘No. But I can call in a favour from someone I know.’

  ‘A faerie?’

  When I nod he shakes his head. ‘No, definitely not. Let’s go and check out the back of the flats. I might be able to do something.’

  We walk around the side of the buildings. The shadows are deep here because a lot of the lights are out. They’ve either been broken on purpose to hide dodgy dealings, or they’ve fused and the council’s not bothered to replace them. The play area is a sad little place, half-lit by a weakly flickering overhead spotlight. The swings hang broken and the frame is skewed to one side, while the little rocking rooster thing tilts wildly to the left. I turn to look up at the building and immediately spot Adam’s room.

  There’s a glow from the window that has nothing to do with the light on within and everything to do with the magics I anchored to the room itself.

  I point to the window.
‘Can you see it?’ I ask Dante, wondering if he’ll be able to see what I’m seeing.

  ‘I can count so I know which room is Adam’s,’ he says. ‘Is that what you mean?’

  I swear softly under my breath. ‘No, the place is lit up by the spells I worked into the room. Can you see the light?’

  He shifts next to me, following the line of my arm and finger. He stays still for some time but then shakes his head.

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Do you trust me?’ I watch his face so close to mine. He really is a very attractive young man. He looks fresh and clean cut, uncomplicated. As I stare at him he looks back at me and from somewhere unbidden I hear the refrain of the lullaby that freaked me out so much earlier this evening. The strains of it are all around me, clinging to me like spider webs and I physically shake my head to clear my mind.

  ‘Yes.’ Dante’s breath is a whisper across my cheek and I can’t help the warm tingle that spreads out from inside of me. My magic really likes this boy.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  He does it without further prompting. I lick my lips, just a little bit, and stand on tiptoe. I press my lips gently, softly, to each of his eyes and as I do, I feed a bit of my magic into him. I hear his breath hitch and I don’t know if it’s because I’m kissing his eyes or if he’s reacting to the magic he can feel working its way through him.

  ‘When you open your eyes, do it carefully,’ I warn him. ‘Slowly, like you’re looking into the sun.’

  I watch his face as he follows my instructions.

  ‘Is this what you see?’ he asks me after a few moments. ‘Everything is clear and bright. You’re shining, like you’ve got a fire inside you.’

  ‘It’s the magic. I’m not trying to keep you from seeing me properly. Look up at Adam’s room. Can you see what I mean now?’

  ‘Yes.’ He steps away from me, his head turned upwards. ‘Can you see where the thing climbed the wall? Look, the bricks are discoloured, almost like they’ve been burned.’

  We walk closer until we stand underneath the windows and look straight up. ‘I need to get up there and get samples of the burned brick but also the stuff it spat onto Adam’s window.’ I’m wondering about coming back with some ropes and climbing gear when Dante takes a few steps back from me and does a fast run-up at the wall. The next thing I know, he’s up and climbing the wall as if it’s something he does every day. I gape up at him as he quickly scales the side of the building, finding finger and toe-holds, whereas to me it looks like a normal wall.

  Just beneath Adam’s window, he lets his weight drop and hangs by one hand as he struggles to get something out of his pocket. I step back to get a clearer look, my heart thudding in my chest. He shimmies over and his body hides his movements but I think he’s managing to scrape something off the wall and then pocket it. Then he moves, carefully, on to Adam’s window.

  All of this takes both far longer and less time than I expect. I’m okay with heights, I can jump off buildings and free fall, but even I’m a bit awestruck by how easily Dante moves, without any harness or safety equipment on the side of the building.

  I’m concentrating so hard, staring upwards, that I don’t hear or see the guy walking up to me until it’s too late.

  The blow takes me across my shoulders, sending me stumbling forward so that I fall to my knees with a grunt. Shock and pain follow, but the instinct to defend myself takes over. I kick backwards and feel the heavy sole of my boot connecting with ribs as the guy lunges towards me. I risk a quick look, noticing that the steel pipe he hit me with the first time is gripped tightly in one hand.

  He staggers a few paces and it gives me time to get up and assess the situation. He’s bigger than me, wider in the shoulders and also taller. His longer arms and the fact that he has a pipe that extends his reach are definite issues.

  ‘What the hell,’ I shout at him. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘For you to get off our turf, devochka.’ He straightens and stalks towards me with menace in every line of his body. I don’t try and talk to him because, well, I’m not in the mood and he just whacked me with a big steel rod. In my book that’s just plain rude and he obviously needs a lesson or two in how to talk to women. I pull out my knife and let the little light there is play across the blade. I beckon him forward with my other hand and when he hesitates, his eyes widening at the sight of the blade, I resist the urge to rush him.

  ‘You should just go,’ he says. ‘Take your friend and leave.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ I say, walking closer, when everything in me screams to turn tail and run. If this was one of the drug pushers Chem and his friends had pointed out, he could easily be armed with a gun too.

  ‘You want to feel more pain?’ he counters, lifting the steel pole. Suddenly he’s aiming an elaborate swing at my head. I sway backwards, grunting as the pipe whooshes past my face. He follows up with a fast backhanded swing and I yelp as the blow glances off my ribs. But it doesn’t stop me from lunging towards him, coming up inside his guard. He wastes no time landing a fist to my ribs and I stomp on his foot to keep him in place, landing my own fist in his gut. He doubles over with an oomph and I grab his long greasy hair and yank him up.

  ‘Kit!’

  Dante’s voice is somewhere behind me, but I’ve got the edge of the knife pressing against the guy’s taught neck as I’m pulling his head back, exposing his vulnerable jugular. I’m now very keen to kick his face in, because I hurt all over. Anger at being punched and hurt licks at me and I have trouble focusing.

  ‘Drop your weapon,’ I hiss at him, wiggling my fingers so they tangle further into his hair. ‘Or I’ll be forced to cut you.’

  I feel him drop the pipe to the ground.

  ‘Who are you?’ I ask him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  His Adam’s apple bobs against my wrist and, just to make sure he understands how serious I am, I lean a tiny bit closer against him and the blade digs in, just a fraction harder.

  ‘Jesus, they were right, you are nuts.’

  I let out a laugh. ‘No, just highly strung. Who are you and why are you attacking me?’

  ‘They told me to come here and give you a message. They don’t want you here; you’re bad for business.’

  ‘And that involved you hitting me with a steel pipe?’

  He’s in the process of shrugging but then remembers the blade under his chin and he stops.

  ‘They said you could handle yourself.’

  ‘Who are these they you mention?’

  This time he does shrug and I press harder. He swears angrily in what sounds like Russian.

  ‘Telling you isn’t worth my family’s life,’ he says in English as he peers at me. ‘I’m just the messenger.’

  ‘Kit? What are you doing?’

  I startle at Dante’s voice.

  ‘The guy attacked me,’ I tell him. ‘I think he’s with the drug dealers from the other night, when we met the estate kids for the first time.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you have to threaten him with your knife, Kit. He’s unarmed.’

  ‘He was armed. Before.’ I scowl at the man. ‘He hit me with a steel pipe, Dante. I made him drop it.’

  Dante exhales heavily and moves so I can see him. ‘Kit, he’s bleeding.’

  I open my mouth to deny it but my eyes drop to my attacker’s neck and there’s definitely something wet and sticky beneath my blade.

  I’m so close to the guy that I can feel his heartbeat kick up a notch.

  ‘Please,’ he mutters. ‘Just let me go, okay? No harm done, devochka. I’ll tell them you said you’d stay away and wouldn’t deal here any more. I’ll tell them I beat you up a bit. We both win.’

  ‘They think I’m selling drugs?’ I ask him. ‘Is that what all this is about?’

  ‘Yes, of course. People like you and your boyfriend don’t come round here unless you’re recruiting for buyers. Or you’re cops.’ He gasp-laughs. ‘But you’re definitely too young and crazy to b
e cops.’ He smirks. ‘Besides, the stuff we’re selling is sweet so no one will want yours anyway.’

  There are sirens somewhere in the distance and the guy shifts against me as I try and focus on what he’s saying.

  ‘Look, let’s just think about this now. I told you what you wanted to know. You threatened me, I got a lucky swing in. Your boyfriend is worried you’re going to turn me into fillet and the cops are coming. Someone’s definitely called them. Those sirens are for us.’ I like that he’s sounding panicked and that he’s trying to appeal to my better nature.

  If he only knew.

  Dante’s watching me and even in the bad light I can see him evaluate my sanity and the situation we’re in. He gives me a slight shake of the head as if saying, No, this isn’t good, Kit, and I wonder if he can sense the angry buzzing in my head, that this man dared attack me. After a moment to consider options, I lower my knife and step back, kicking the steel pipe further away.

  ‘Go,’ I say to him, my knife still held ready. ‘Leave before I think this through and decide to hand you to the cops.’

  The guy wastes no time running off into the dark. Dante watches me slide the knife out of sight before hurrying me away from the back of the estate. We’re near the main road when my stomach protests at how casually I’ve just attacked another human being. I break away from Dante’s grip; the need to be elsewhere is urgent. I make it as far as the nearest shrubs before I’m horrifically sick and throw up everything I have in my stomach.

  ‘Kit? Are you okay?’

  Dante’s hand is soothing on the small of my back. I try and talk but I just have no air or energy, and the noise that unexpectedly comes out sounds suspiciously like a sob.

  ‘Shit.’ Dante’s arm goes around my waist and he drapes my other arm around his shoulder. ‘You need to straighten up,’ he tells me from far away. ‘You’ll start breathing fine soon.’

  I’m shaking now, my mind replaying what it felt like wanting to slide the knife a little bit more tightly across the man’s skin, because he’d hurt me and deserved to be hurt in turn.