Kellen's pace slowed. She looked away from Ger to watch where she was going, but she kept glancing up at him. Waiting for him to keep talking, Ger knew. He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he'd blurted out the beginning, and it seemed less difficult to keep going.
"There was another man working with us, too. Hagy had a wife and a couple of kids. A baby." Ger paused for a breath. "Ripley was stealing from Comstock."
"What a surprise." Kellen cut a glance up at Ger. "Sorry."
Ger shrugged and forced a brief smile. As much as he hated what he was saying, it was made easier for knowing she was listening—really listening.
"I knew he was. Hagy and I both figured out pretty quickly what Ripley was up to. I was scared of Ripley, though, so I just kept my mouth shut. Hagy, he was braver. Or maybe just more desperate. He went to Comstock and told him what Ripley was doing."
Kellen shot another glance up at Ger, but she didn't say anything this time.
"Comstock took the accusations to Ripley," Ger said. "Ripley threw them right back at Hagy, said Hagy was the one stealing and trying to shift the blame to Ripley. Comstock turned to me, then, and asked me what I knew."
"So you turned him in." Kellen didn't look at Ger this time. She was busy skirting a post. This time, she didn't jostle Ger. "That's why he thrashed you?"
The two of them maneuvered through the other pedestrians and turned off Market. Ger took the opportunity to avoid answering Kellen until they were on Fourth.
"No," Ger eventually said. "I stood there, with Ripley glaring holes in me, and I was afraid. So I said I didn't know anything. Comstock fired them both."
Kellen cast an appraising look over at Ger. "That's rough."
Fewer people walked Fourth Street, their shadows wavering through patches of fading sunlight, so Ger could have let some space fall between him and Kellen. He didn't. Instead, he let the gravity of her waiting and the comfort of her proximity help him drag out the rest of the words.
"After word got around about what happened, no one else would hire the two of them. Ripley, he just moved on. He didn't have anyone counting on him. Getting fired, it didn't matter at all to him. He still came out ahead. But Hagy had his family. And his baby girl, she got sick. And Hagy couldn't afford to do a thing about it."
"So Ripley's a thief and a jackass to boot," Kellen said. "But I don't see how he killed anybody."
"Hagy's baby girl died."
Kellen didn't answer right away. They passed the firehouse and kept on toward the thick white columns of the Lutheran church.
"The baby was sick," Kellen said. "Ripley didn't kill it."
"You think fists or a knife are the only way to kill somebody?" Ger turned his head to look at Kellen
She didn't look back at him. When she spoke, her voice was soft and her words surprised Ger.
"You think it was your fault."
It was like being kicked. Ger's stomach lurched up toward his throat, and his eyes teared up.
"If I'd stood up to him," Ger said, "if I'd told the truth then maybe only Ripley would've gotten fired. Hagy could've kept his job. His baby would have lived."
"Maybe. But the baby was sick. They could've taken her to that hospital for the poor on Pine, or whatever they have up in the Liberties. You wouldn't have saved her just by standing up to Ripley."
"I could have tried!"
Kellen slowed and looked up at Ger, her mouth pursed. Instead of speaking, though, her brow furrowed. She stopped suddenly and looked back the way they'd come.
Utterly confused, Ger stopped, too.
They'd passed the Friends' Arch Street Meeting house on the opposite side of the street. The church beside them was still and silent. A handful of people walked along the street behind Kellen and Ger, but they were far back.
Kellen turned forward again—no one at all was in sight in that direction. Her brow furrowed deeper, and she tilted her head as if listening to something Ger couldn't hear. The gesture reminded him of something, someone else, but he couldn't place what or who.
The hairs on the backs of his arms lifted. He forgot about Ripley and Hagy and everything else.
"What?" he asked.
Kellen shushed him with one finger over her mouth and kept listening. Ger tried to hear what she heard.
For one second, he heard murmuring voices, a sound almost like wind and water that brought Em's ghost stories to mind. That reminded Ger of something else he couldn't quite recall.
Then it was gone, and Ger couldn't hear it anymore—or he'd never heard it to begin with.
Kellen crossed Arch Street, continuing along the way that would eventually lead them to Chester's Alley and Widow Howland's house. Ger cast a single, habitual glance to his left, toward the arched graveyard gate Ripley had once dragged him through. Then he followed Kellen.
A series of row houses faced onto Fourth ahead of them. Every few houses, the shadowed entry of an alley broke the neat march of red brick and white trim. Kellen walked slowly, drawing close to the gray, light-less mouth of the nearest alley.
And then Ger did hear a voice, muttering from someplace deep in that alley. The muscles along his shoulders and stomach tensed.
"Careful," he said.
Chapter 17
"Stop looking at me."
She wasn't crazy. That was Kellen's first thought.
At first what she'd heard had been a hint of a whisper, murmuring voices teasing just beyond hearing. As she'd crossed Arch, trying to get closer to that sound, her feet had felt like they belonged to someone else. The scrabble of birds' feet on a tiled roof could have come from miles away instead of just over her head. The faintly dusty scent of sun-heated bricks as she crept past the houses leading to the alley seemed like part of a dream.
Then all those whispers suddenly became one very clear voice—a real voice—and she knew it wasn't a dream and it wasn't Em's ghosts and it wasn't her just plain going crazy.
And then she recognized the voice. Jesus, why did it always have to be that voice? Kellen's breath froze in her chest as solidly as if she breathed river water in January. She stopped just shy of the alley's entrance and straightened.
And turned to find Ger right behind her. Kellen came up short, her hands against his chest, and took a quick step back. A frown crinkled his forehead, lending him the appearance of a worried hound. His head was tipped to one side, but Kellen thought maybe he hadn't heard Ripley. She reached for Ger's arm, anxious to turn him around before it was too late. Ger looked down at Kellen and opened his mouth.
Her hands were on his chest, some distant part of her brain murmured. His face was right over hers.
Down the alley behind Kellen, boots scuffed on cobblestones. Someone whimpered. Ger's gaze snapped toward the alley's mouth. His mouth closed, and he stood a little straighter.
No. He couldn't do this. She could not let him do it. Kellen snatched at his coat sleeve.
"You promised," she whispered at him.
The look Ger cast down at Kellen was mostly one of confusion.
"I said stop." Ripley's voice was nearly a growl, but still recognizable.
Ger's expression cleared. He lifted his head and stared past Kellen toward the alley. A fierce determination suddenly glittered in his eyes, like embers smoldering in wood, and Kellen was ashamed of the fear clawing at her gut.
"There's nothing we can do," she said, anyhow. "We have to get out of here."
Ger's mouth drew up on one side, as if he'd just smelled something nasty. The look he leveled at Kellen cut straight inside her and wrapped a fist around her heart. It made her feel like something less than human.
"Walk away," Ger said, "and leave a man to die? Who would do that?"
Her own words, saying exactly what she didn't want to hear. In that moment she hated Ger more than she had ever hated anyone. No. She hated Vincent more. He'd left her to deal with things like this alone—Ripley's bullying and Ger's burning need to be a hero. One of the two was going to get her killed.
&
nbsp; Ripley's voice drifted from the alley once more, although Kellen couldn't make out words this time. Ger shook off Kellen's grip on his coat and stepped around her toward the alley.
"Wait!" Kellen grabbed Ger's arm again and blocked him with one leg.
When Ger looked down at her, anger blazed in his eyes. For a second, Kellen thought he might simply shove her aside.
"Get out of here," Ger said. "If you need to run, then run."
Kellen's face burned—but the same fire crackled up her spine.
"Screw you." Kellen let go of Ger's arm. "Fine. But let's be careful, at least. You know—smart?"
She stepped away from Ger and turned toward the alley.
Ger stepped in front of Kellen, and this time he blocked her way.
"I mean it." His voice had softened. "You should get away from here."
He sounded scared. Anger had been better. Jesus. Damn it all.
"Screw you," Kellen repeated, and her voice sounded scared, too. "Just don't go charging in like prize beef to slaughter, all right?"
The two of them angled toward the alley. Kellen pressed one palm against the brick wall to steady herself and peeked around the edge. Ger moved in close beside her, planted his hand above hers and leaned his head out, too. Kellen squinted to see in the dim light, until she could make out the gray on gray outline of two figures further in.
With one hand, Ripley held a smaller person pinned against the wall. Ripley's stance was wide, his feet planted firmly. The other person's feet dangled, barely touching the alley's surface. Those feet kicked feebly now and then, scuffing toes through loose stones.
"Fucker." Ripley snarled. "Beg. Beg, or I'll kill you."
The legs that didn't belong to Ripley twisted, feet pedaling for purchase against the cobblestones.
"Please, mister." The other figure's voice wavered, rising and falling in a childlike cadence. "I didn't do anything."
"God." Ger's breath touched Kellen's neck, a soft puff of exclamation. "It's a kid. It's just a kid."
Ger straightened. Kellen's stomach dropped. She looked around frantically, blindly, for anyone or anything that could help. She had a knife on her belt—all dockers carried one—but if they had to get that close to Ripley, they might as well just lie down and die.
Ger stepped into the mouth of the alley, his scrawny form pulled to its full height. Beneath his feet, loose chunks of broken cobblestone scraped and clattered, a more forceful version of the pitiful scratching from the boy down the alley.
Stones.
"Ripley!" Ger's voice echoed down the alley, ricocheting madly from wall to wall.
Kellen cringed so hard she felt like she'd been hit.
"Jesus!" she hissed at Ger. Then she dropped into a crouch and searched along the base of the wall, hands scrabbling through loose stones.
"Help!" The kid's voice called with renewed strength down the alley. "Help, please!"
One stone, the right shape and heft. Two.
"Ripley!" Ger shouted a second time. His voice wavered, but he started down the alley anyhow.
Kellen snatched up a third stone and stood, stepped out into the mouth of the alley behind Ger.
It wouldn't be any different than throwing rocks into the water with Byrne, seeing the path of the stone before it left her hand and flicking her wrist just so to make it sing along that path toward its target. It wouldn't be a bit different.
Down the alley, Ripley uttered a low, continuous, whining growl, like a dog desperate to reach a piece of meat that was just out of reach. He didn't look toward Kellen and Ger. It was like he hadn't heard Ger shouting at all. His hand drifted toward his waist. Toward his belt.
Toward his knife.
Even in the dim light, Ripley and boy pinned against the wall suddenly stood out in sharp detail. Kellen thought she might even be able to smell them, sweat and fear and blood about to be spilled. Ger's shoulders lowered and his knees bent. Every line of his body pointed at Ripley.
Kellen curled her fingers around one of the stones. Its cold weight pressed into her palm as she hefted it.
The boy's fists and feet flailed but couldn't reach close enough to more than graze Ripley. And still, Ripley didn't so much as glance toward Ger or Kellen.
Kellen sucked in a breath and held it. Saw the path in her head and hefted the stone forward to follow. The stone's weight shifted as she opened her hand and let it fly.
It sang past Ger's ear. Ger shied away from it. He stumbled.
The stone slammed into Ripley's forearm.
Ripley bellowed. He jerked his arm away from his knife, let go of the kid with his other hand, and drew both arms up tight against his chest. The kid slid down the wall and landed on the ground in a jumble of scrawny arms and skinny legs and a mop of blonde hair. A split second later, with his feet barely under him, he bolted for the alley's far end.
Ger regained his balance and squared off facing Ripley. Kellen closed her hand around a second stone.
"Come on." She spoke only loud enough for Ger. She was alarmed at how high and broken her voice sounded. "The kid's safe. Back off."
"What the..." Ripley shook his head, like a wounded animal shaking off the pain. "Hell!"
Ger didn't move.
"Jesus," Kellen whispered. "Ger!"
Down the alley, Ripley turned his head slowly from side to side. Kellen swore he must've looked straight at them, but he didn't make any move in their direction.
"Who's there?" Ripley called out—but it wasn't an angry demand. If anything, he sounded hesitant. "Hello?"
"He doesn't see us." Ger turned his head slightly to the side, just enough to speak to Kellen without taking his eyes off Ripley. "He didn't hear me."
"Is it you?" Ripley called out. He sounded like a hopeful little boy. Kellen shivered.
"We need to go," she said to Ger. "We need to go now."
While we can, she thought. Before Ripley—what? Wakes up? Ripley's feet scuffed through loose stones as he turned in place, his entire body now and not just his head.
"Where are you? What are you?" Plaintive desperation laced Ripley's voice. He sounded nothing like the animal of moments before, but more like a lost child. A frightened child. And yet, that twisted note of awe rang in his voice. Kellen abruptly felt sick.
"Ger!" Christ, but she sounded as desperate and pleading as Ripley.
Ger stood perfectly still a moment longer and then finally, thankfully, took a step backward, away from Ripley and toward Kellen.
"Ripley?" A new voice called out from a distance—from Fifth Street at the other end of the alley. "What the hell you doing?"
Alvie Fox. Kellen's grip on the chunks of cobblestone tightened.
"Now!" she whispered frantically at Ger.
He back-pedaled another step and pivoted toward Kellen. She flung herself around the corner, out of the alley's mouth, and huddled against the wall. A heartbeat later, Ger stumbled out of the alley and half-fell against her.
Ripley's boots scrabbled erratically in the alley, moving away from Kellen and Ger and toward the sound of Alvie's voice. Kellen wondered if Ripley had been drinking.
Two voices murmured at the alley's end. Alvie's rose and fell, but Kellen could barely hear Ripley. The voices grew gradually quieter and finally faded altogether. Kellen waited, hardly daring to breathe.
Ger abruptly shoved away from the wall and started around the corner.
"What are you doing?" Kellen stood, her heart pounding all over again.
Ger didn't look back at her, but he stopped, framed in the alley's mouth with one hand still on the brick wall.
"They're gone." He had the gall to sound disappointed.
Kellen stepped tentatively forward and peered around the corner. The alley was empty.
"That's what we call 'a good thing.'" Kellen eyed the far end of the alley. "We should get gone, too, before they come back."
Ger shot a glance over his shoulder. He didn't say, "coward," but he may as well have.
"We have to find that boy." Ger took a step into the alley. "He might be hurt."
"I never saw Ripley do more than hold him up against the wall. If he can run like he did, then I expect he's not hurt too bad," Kellen replied. "He's also long gone. It's more likely we'd catch up to Ripley and Alvie instead, and I know even you don't think that's a good idea. Come on."
Ger didn't move, not a single step. "We need to report this."
Jesus.
"I think we talked about this already," Kellen said. "It's bad enough, don't make it worse."
"But the boy he attacked. He could tell—"
"That boy is gone. He's not telling anyone anything. You want to know why?"
Ger stopped staring longingly down the alley long enough to frown at Kellen.
"Because that boy is smart. Smarter than you, I guess," Kellen said. "What do you think is gonna happen if you try to get Ripley arrested for this?"
"Someone has to stop him." But Ger's shoulders drooped, just a little. His Adam's apple bobbed, a quick up and down.
"If Ripley's as drunk as he looked, he'll be stopped cold pretty soon."
Ger leveled that disdainful, disgusted look at Kellen again. Her face heated, and a shade of red that was getting awfully damn familiar since she'd met Ger swam into her vision.
"I am not a coward," she spat at him. "I'm a survivor. And you promised to steer clear of Ripley."
They stared each other down. Ger's eyes burned, almost like he was accusing Kellen of doling out a beating as bad as Ripley had. Kellen refused to look away.
"How do you know I won't go back on my word?" Ger finally asked. But the challenge had slipped from his voice.
"If you were gonna do that, you'd just do it instead of arguing with me about it."
Kellen hesitated, and her face cooled. She could understand now, at least a little, why Ger had it so bad for Ripley. She still thought he was dumb beyond belief if he believed he could do anything about it, but she understood.
"And you're a lousy damn liar, too," she added, more mildly.
One of Ger's grins flickered, but it vanished again as quickly as it had come. He stared at Kellen another few seconds, and a rebellious light trembled in his eyes. Or maybe it was fear.
A Stillness of the Sun (Crowmakers: Book 1): A Science Fiction Western Adventure Page 12