Hundreds of black eyes watched her climb to her feet.
“Look at this,” said Max and pulled his coat from around his back. “I’m covered here, Alcazar. How the hell can you live like this?”
“I might ask the same of you, sewer rat,” his older brother replied. Alcazar’s large nose caused a slight whistle to creep into his voice. He walked towards them, wading through the mess.
The surrounding flock bobbed their heads with interest.
“It’s cleaner down there,” said Max, his arms out for balance. Alcazar caught his arm and pulled him close before he fell.
Jacob, rather than try and climb to his feet, merely sat back on the floor. He eyed the birds suspiciously.
“It’s nice to see you, little brother,” said Alcazar and grabbed Max by the shoulders. He gave him a firm squeeze.
“Likewise. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
Alcazar’s narrow face drooped. “Yes. I was expecting your visit.” He faced the rising sun. “All the friends I have in this city, all the eyes I can see through, and I allowed this to happen.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Max. “None of us could have foreseen this.”
“Foresight is one thing I don’t claim,” said Alcazar. “This…evil must have begun at some point: an argument, a chase…something! If only we were warned…”
Aware that her face burned, Nat looked away.
Jacob groaned, drawing the attention of his brothers.
“Birds,” he said and shook his head.
With a firm push on the floor, he managed to stand. A grey pigeon on a nearby ledge pecked at him and flapped its wings. Jacob scowled and swept it away. The bird plummeted from the ledge and quickly spiralled upwards. It forced a new space among its kin and stared down.
“Birds,” Jacob said again.
“I am surprised to see you here, Jacob,” said Alcazar. “I thought you stayed underground?”
“Want answers. We know little.”
Alcazar nodded. “And answers you will have, of what I can offer, at least. Who is this?”
Nat’s heart seemed to stall like a bucking engine before it ascended back to a solid thumping. Pinpricks crawled across her brow.
“This is Nat,” said Max. “A friend.”
Jenkins barked.
A small smile fixed on her face, Nat turned her head back towards the brothers. Alcazar stared at her, head cocked like the inquisitive birds.
“A friend, eh? Not often we have company from outside the family.” Some of the birds squawked in response. “Can we trust her?”
Max frowned. “Would we bring her here if we couldn’t?”
Running a long finger down his nose, Alcazar gave it a small tap. “I suppose. Come.”
He walked across the room, between Nat and Jacob, his feet finding the unmarred patches of floor. His long coat billowed out behind him. Nat imagined giant wings hidden underneath, a dirty angel, tramp of the skies.
“Where?” asked Jacob. “Is light now.”
“He’s right,” said Max. “We’ve left Herman alone with the baby. The twins wandered off chasing rats, and Whistler’s been acting weird.”
“And?”
Max sighed. “I don’t want to leave them alone for too long.”
“Dear baby brother,” said Alcazar. “I think our eldest can look after a baby for a few hours, don’t you? Come into my room. You must be thirsty after such a long journey.”
Max seemed to consider this for a few seconds. “Yes, I suppose they’ll be fine for a little while longer. But we promised.”
“We all make promises and most of them are broken. How is the old boy?”
They could be talking about some senile uncle or distant cousin, Nat thought, not the brother without skin that lives in a sewer.
“And you,” said Alcazar, locking her into his intense gaze once again. “Surely you will join us?”
She quickly nodded.
Alcazar smiled. “Very good. Let us get comfortable, for we have much to discuss.”
22.
Alcazar’s private quarters had only received the lightest of abuse from the birds. Nat chose an armchair with only thin white streaks of bird crap on the head rest. She made a mental note to lean forwards. Max shared a sofa with Jacob, who took up most of the room. Jenkins explored the area under a small table and sniffed at the carpet. Beyond them, in an area which served as his kitchen, Alcazar fussed around with cups and a metal kettle. Using a box of matches from his coat, he lit a small burner and placed the kettle on top.
Nat had developed a respect for the tall brother in the long coat. His room, a little way down the corridor from the stairs, was better kept than the lair in the sewers. The furniture, although still torn and beaten, appeared cleaned. Shelves of wood had been knocked up on the walls; their various angles and sizes gave the room a slapdash effect. Tins, pots and utensils were strewn about on them. A strange odour hung heavy in the air. Nat smelled burnt wood and spices. It completely blocked out the stench of the birds.
“You know,” said Alcazar, peering back from the makeshift kitchen, “I should be flattered, but I find it quite amusing.”
“You find what amusing?” said Max. He placed his hand on the armrest of the sofa and immediately recoiled in disgust. He wiped the spongy white gunk from his fingers.
“How many years have all of you doubted my skills? Called me crazy, called me names. Now, here you are, wanting answers.”
“Mother dead!” Jacob cried. “Not here for fun.”
Nat shrank back in the armchair. The wound on her back burned anew.
“He’s right,” said Max. “We came to see if you knew something, anything, about who killed mother. We are underground for most of the day. Only I can venture out, and most of that time is spent begging. Out of all of us, you had the best chance of seeing or hearing something.”
“You’re right. I have heard a few things from my feathered friends.”
Jacob rolled his eyes which brought a sharp glance from Max.
The water in the kettle bubbled, and Alcazar removed four chipped cups from a shelf. From a tin, he decanted a dark powder into each one. To Nat, it looked like ground charcoal. He added hot water and stirred each drink with a spoon.
“I apologise for the quality,” he said and carried them over to the table. “I am a man of simple means, after all.”
Nat took a cup and muttered a small thank you.
His hands enveloping his cup, Jacob drank the brew in two quick gulps, despite the heat. He lowered it from his lips with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Feel good to be a little more civilised, Jacob?” said Alcazar.
“Is only drink,” he replied. “Maybe I grow more civil and live here…” He paused. “After pound skulls.”
Max cleared his throat, cup held in his lap. “Before we get ahead of ourselves, I think it’s time to talk about what happened. We’re totally in the dark here, Alcazar. We don’t know anything apart from what actually happened to her. It was definitely murder. I don’t think she caved her own head in with a rock.”
Alcazar flinched at the words and turned his back on the group.
Nat sampled her drink with apprehension. The strong, hot brew tasted of dark wood mixed with tea. She took a second sip. It refreshed her mouth, and, her thirst awakened, she tried not to gulp it all down.
Alcazar hunched over his workbench, nodded to himself, and joined them. He settled down into another armchair, this one heavily soiled.
Max sipped his drink. “It’s good.”
“Thank you.”
“Start from the beginning.”
After a deep breath, Alcazar said, “It was probably the day after it…it happened. I was here, and one of my friends spoke of a woman being chased through the streets. I hear anything of interest in the city, and there’s been quite a few women in peril over the last few years. More and more in fact. Only this one… this one was different, because… because…”
“This time it was our mother,” Max finished for him. “If you knew that someone was hunting women out there, why didn’t you do something?”
Alcazar laughed. It sounded like a series of sharp squawks.
“Listen to yourself. First, I’m no superhero. I don’t watch over the city, ready to swing into action at the first sign of trouble.” He gulped his drink. “I can’t do a thing. The same way that you, any of you, can’t do a thing. We have to live in the shadows. Call it fate, call it bad luck. This is how we’re forced to live and, for the family, it has to be maintained. And another thing…” He stared at Jacob. “You in particular. What kind of hypocrite would I be, eh? Saving lone women in the city like some kind of… some kind of vigilante, knowing what you do!”
Jacob glared back. “Is different.”
“Different?” said Alcazar and leaned back in his chair. “You’re far from innocent, brother. You and the others!”
“Is for food. Is for survival.”
Alcazar snorted. “Is it? Is it really? So you have no choice in the matter?” He stared back to Max. “I can’t believe you let them do it. It appals me to be related to murderers.”
Nat closed her eyes, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but here.
“I can’t watch them all the time,” Max cried back. “Mother and I did everything we could to feed the family. Everything! There have been… incidents in the past, things done to keep our secret that I’m not proud of. I might not have done the killing, but I know the blood is on my hands.” He took a shaky breath. “We can’t argue. We don’t have time, Alcazar. Please. Tell us what you know!”
“If you insist,” he replied. He raised the cup to his lips and surveyed them all over the rim.
Beneath the table, Jenkins whined and lay down.
“There was a group,” said Alcazar. “Four. Maybe five.”
“How you know?” asked Jacob.
“I just do. I don’t exactly speak to the birds, but I can see through their eyes, feel what they feel, and I don’t have the patience to put up with your cynicism, Jacob.”
“Go on,” said Max.
“It happened in the woods by the park. They chased her and… and kind of closed in at the clearing. That’s when they…”
“Yes,” said Max, his face lowered. “We know how they did it. We found her, remember?”
Jacob slammed his fist onto the arm of the sofa. “We come here! Learn nothing!”
Jenkins looked up from beneath the table. He yawned and replaced his head between his paws.
“That’s not everything,” said Alcazar. “I know one more thing that will help us. I presume you’re out for revenge, little brother?”
Jacob roared in reply.
“Then hear this. The one we seek has hair white as snow.”
The cup fell from her hand as Nat jerked. The black drink splashed onto the floor.
“Nat?” asked Max. “Are you okay?”
“Y-Yes,” she said. “This is just a little much for me, that’s all.”
It was Johan.
“Would you like another drink?” offered Alcazar. His stony gaze had warmed up some. “There’s plenty left.”
“No,” she said. “But thank you. I’m just clumsy, I guess.”
Her mind raced, and she barely registered the words slipping from between her lips. The images of that night flitted before her eyes—Simon arguing with Johan and his boys, the old woman between them, Whistler being chased.
Whistler! He was there! Why hasn’t he said anything?
She picked up the cup and placed it on the table.
“We need to head back,” said Max. “Herman will be in a foul mood. We need to plan a way to find this white-haired bastard, all of us.”
Alcazar nodded. “I will come with you.”
They all looked up at a tiny bird that flew in through the open door and swooped in circles around the room. It emitted a few chirps and bounced off the walls like a moth against a hot light bulb.
Alcazar outstretched a hand. “Here, little one.”
Obediently, the birds changed direction and, with a stretch of its wings, gently settled on Alcazar’s palm.
He brought the bird closer to his face until his sharp nose almost touched it. He emitted strange clicks and whistles in his mouth and throat.
The bird bobbed its head and chirped.
“What’s it doing?” whispered Max.
“Ssssh,” said Alcazar and lifted his other hand for silence.
The strange conversation carried on for another twenty seconds or so before the bird took off. It fluttered out of the room and away.
“We need to go,” said Alcazar, who stood and dashed for the door. “Come on! Now!”
Nat stayed sitting with Jacob and Max. They swapped confused glances.
“What’s going on?” said Max. “What’s happening?”
“A group of boys have been seen leaving the sewers,” Alcazar sighed. “One of them has stark white hair.”
23.
The light burned his retinas, but Johan forced his eyes to stay open. He breathed in his first breath of clean air. It smelled of grass even though they were a long way from the nearest green area. The long hours spent underground in the dark, wading through the fetid and rank waters, had altered his opinion of the city streets, which he’d always thought of as saturated with filth. They now seemed wholesome and inviting. He fought the urge to fall to his knees and kiss the ground.
His friends looked equally exhausted. Kev and Richie stayed close by each other, Johan presumed for protection. They’d not left each other’s side throughout the arduous journey to the surface, both jumping at the slightest noise. Their wounds had clotted to a rusty brown.
Spence looked dazed, like he had just climbed out of bed. Behind his glasses, his eyes were vacant and staring. Johan wondered what carousel of thoughts danced around his head after their little adventure.
Away from them, Simon sat down on the pavement, his feet in the desolate road.
Johan stared up at the sun and closed his eyes, relishing the warmth on his face.
“We have to go,” said Spence. “We still aren’t safe here.”
“Yes,” Johan replied. “We are.”
“No, no, no. We have to go. We have to move!”
Johan opened his eyes and looked at his friend, who had moved away from the dark doorway and eyed it wearily.
“What if they follow us?”
“They won’t follow us, Spence. Think about those things. You seriously think they would come out in the day?”
“It might kill them,” Kev suggested. “Like vampires. Maybe that’s why they live in the sewers.”
Johan shook his head. “No. They live in the sewers because that’s where they belong, living in the shit.” He peered back the way they’d come. “And they can’t be allowed to carry on living down there.”
He faced his comrades once more.
“This is not a surrender,” he said. “This is a regroup.”
“And what good will it do? We should have stayed and waited for them to bring her back!” Simon snapped.
Johan knew she was nothing more than a floating corpse now. Bitten, clawed, ripped to pieces. Only the rats will love her now, Simon, old friend.
Johan smiled, his head filled with an all consuming, cleansing fire.
“We can’t go in there blind again, Simon. They nearly had us down there, but not again.” He stared back at the entrance again. “God knows how many of them there are, how many we have to get through until we find your girlfriend. We need weapons, and not just a few bricks or bit of metal. We’re going back in, boys, and this time we’re going in armed.”
The car was still parked around the corner from the pub. To Johan, it seemed ages since they’d played pool and Simon had barged in, all fists and accusations. They climbed inside, and Johan drove them back to his flat.
“You think it could be infected?” Richie asked. He sat on the sofa nursing
his right arm. “They live in the sewers for fuck’s sake. We were waist deep in that shit! Anything could have gotten in.”
Simon disappeared into the kitchen.
“Kev,” said Johan. “Help me take his shirt off.”
Underneath his own injury, a crescent-shaped cut on his forehead, Kev’s eyes widened.
“Come on, Kev! We need to see what’s been done.”
Richie’s shirt had been ripped by the baby, but it still concealed most of the damage. Johan popped open the cuff.
“You guys need anything?” asked Spence, peering over Kev’s shoulder.
“Some wet tea-towels,” said Johan. “And a first aid box. There should be one in the kitchen.”
“Already got them,” said Simon, back in the living room. He clutched a dripping bundle in his hands and a green box under his arm.
“Good,” said Johan. “Now, let’s see what we have.”
He rolled up Richie’s sleeve.
“Jesus!”
Close to his wrist, a small chunk of flesh had been removed. The edge was neatly serrated where the teeth had cut through the skin. Johan stared into the hole, roughly the size of a fifty-pence piece. The wound had dried, the inside a dark red, bordering on black. It looked like he’d been stabbed with a white hot skewer that had cauterised as it entered. Grime streaked the skin around it.
“Is… is it bad?” asked Richie.
Johan picked up a wet tea-towel. “It looks worse than it is.”
He cleaned the wound, ignoring Richie’s complaints, and sprayed it with antiseptic from the first aid box. Kev and Spence held a pad in place while he wrapped the arm in a bandage to hold it in place.
“There,” said Johan and sat back. “Not perfect, but it will do.” He climbed to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Richie asked.
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