Squawk - Beginnings: The Dragon Games Revolution Page 14

  Shoulders burning, he dropped his brush into the bucket. The sun was high and glaring. Fragments of clouds drifted, but not enough to provide any kind of shade. To make matters worse, Malak saw to it that he scrubbed the walls in the full sun. Gabe rubbed his jaw.

  “You got a mark there, eh?” Jack’s dark eyes gleamed. “What happened?”

  “Bad breakfast.”

  “I’d say so.” Jack twisted the lid off of the canteen that hung over his shoulder. It looked huge in his small hands. He drank. “Ah. Are you ready for a sip, Gabe?”

  “No.”

  “Then get back to scrubbing.”

  He rolled his shoulder and got back at it. He’d dripped enough sweat to fill the bucket on his own by that point. The heat was sweltering—a midsummer nightmare. There hadn’t been a breeze in a week.

  “You know,” Jack said, tapping on the canteen like a drum, “isn’t it funny how things happen? I mean, a couple of weeks ago, you were Gabe, son of Saul the dragon hunter. I admit it, I liked you, but I envied you. But now, here I am, watching you do my work for me.” A smile crossed his face. “I find it delightful. How the mighty fall, my father says. Now, you’re even worse off than I was, except you still get to live with Malak.” He poked the bruise on Gabe’s face. “Does that hurt?”

  “Ow!”

  “So I guess it does.” The sandy-haired Jack let out a goofy giggle. “Pain hurts, don’t it?”

  Gabe eyed him then continued scrubbing. Jack had always been a pain in the neck, and now it would be worse. The boy was too feisty. Gabe would have to find a way to distract him, or Jack would be worse to deal with than Jubal. “What do you suppose they’re going to have me do once all of these walls are scrubbed clean?”

  Jack stuck his hands up in his armpits. “You know, I’ve been wondering about that myself. As a matter of fact, I’ve come to be quite the expert on these NA markings, and you know what?”

  “What?”

  “There haven’t been any new ones since your father was killed.” Jack made a ticking sound with his mouth. “I find that mighty suspicious.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Gabe rose to full height. Glowering down at Jack, he said, “What did you say?”

  “Now, don’t you be getting all red-eared on me, Gabe. One whistle, and Malak will show up and shove that rebar up your crack.” He pushed Gabe toward the wall. “Keep scrubbing.”

  “You’re just making stupid things up, Jack. Stupid things.”

  “Oh, so you think I’m stupid?”

  “You wear it better than smart.”

  Nodding his head, Jack said, “I see. I see. You think I’m stupid because my father works in the sewers. Well, let me tell you something, Gabe—I know more than you do. And I know that ever since your father died, those marks stopped happening. And I’m not the only one who noticed, either.” He peeked over his shoulder as a group of onlookers passed by, carrying bags of rice. A guard with a long club of rebar noticed them and started toward them. Under his breath, Jack said, “Keep scrubbing. Scrub hard.”

  Frowning, Gabe put his back into it.

  The guard stopped a few feet away from them. “What’s all of the chatter about?” He smacked his club into his hand. “Boys.”

  “Just seeing if my friend wanted a drink.” Jack shook the canteen. “Hot today, isn’t it?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Moving on, the guard said, “Keep the chatter off. I’ll be back.” He rounded the corner and fell out of sight.

  Gabe stopped scrubbing. Jack had told plenty of wild stories before. His favorite ones were about the monsters that his father encountered in the sewers. The beasts got bigger and had more heads, eyes, and tails every time he spoke. Still, Gabe was curious. There was a ring of truth to what Jack had said. “Okay, out with it, Jack. I’m biting. Why do you think these symbols stopped? You don’t even know what they mean.”

  “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Well, there’s still less of them. I think your father did them, and that’s why he was killed.” He twisted his head over his shoulder. “I know secrets. There are secrets in the sewers. You hear things down there from up here.”

  “You always say that.” Gabe took a seat against the wall. He stretched out his hand.

  Cocking his head away from the glare of the sun, Jack gave him a funny look. Gabe poked the canteen. The other boy handed it over and sat down beside him. Gabe drank gulp after gulp. There were plenty of times that Gabe hadn’t known where his father was. Sometimes he’d catch Saul sneaking in and out in the wee hours of the night. But he’d never seen a speck of paint on his father.

  He handed the canteen back. “My dad didn’t do this.”

  “Really? Are you sure? Think about it. Why else would they have you cleaning up this mess?” Jack took a sip and twisted the cap on the canteen. “Just think about it. Only for a moment, though. Then get back to work. I don’t want Malak to see me slacking.”

  “No, you don’t want that. That is for certain.” A cloud blocked the sun and threw a shadow over them. Closing his eyes, Gabe said to the sky, “Oh, cloud, please don’t leave.” The slightest breeze picked up. It cooled his skin. “That feels so good.”

  Jack nudged him. “Get back to work, Gabe.”

  Smiling, Gabe said, “I will. You know what you were saying about Malak and slacking? Well, imagine what he would think if I told him what you just told me.”

  Jack gawped. “You wouldn’t. I’d deny it.”

  Gabe didn’t reply. He opened his eyes to the sky.

  “Listen to me. We’re friends. Right? We have our secrets. Right?” Jack smacked his lips and started looking around. “Gabe, I’m good to you. You know that.”

  “I know.” He glanced at Jack, whose busy eyes were all over the alley. “And we’ve always been friends. We always will be. I think it’s good that we can share things.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Jacked patted him on the back. “We’re friends. Big friends.”

  “Of course.” Gabe started scrubbing the wall again. If there was one thing he knew to be true about Jack, the boy couldn’t keep quiet about much of anything, but this time, Gabe thought he would. But perhaps Jack knew even more than he realized. Even though it hurt, Gabe added, “Don’t you think that after what happened to my dad, the citizens are scared? Maybe that’s why all of these foolish markings stopped. It’s called a coincidence.”

  Shaking his head while biting his nails, Jack said, “I know what a coincidence is.” His eyes darted around. “But yeah, I never thought about it that way.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if ole Malak didn’t come out here and paint the marks himself. What else is he going to do to keep me busy?” He managed a smile.

  Jack huffed a little laugh. Making a foolish grin, he said, “Yeah, and I’d be out of a job. I kinda like seeing you do my job too. I don’t want to lose that. But one day, when I’m older, I’m gonna be one of those hunters. So don’t you get in the way of that. This is good for me.”

  “I won’t.”

  The breeze died moments later. The sun became fire on his neck. All was quiet, and even Jack became silent. That was fortunate. The last thing Gabe needed was Jack rambling on with half-baked ideas that could be traced back to him. He had enough problems. At that point, he needed time to sort things out. He had to get a handle on his hopeless situation. His father told him to have faith, but in what? Gabe didn’t understand.

  He ran his hand over the wall. The paint was a smear with only the faintest outlines of the original letters that with time would quickly fade away. Still, spreading his fingers out, he wondered if this was a mark left by his father. What does it mean? He traced the letters with his finger. Is it an NA, or is it something else?

  At the end of the day, Malak showed up in a huff. His face was beet red. He stomped more than he walked. “Come with me, boy.”

  Carrying the bucket and brush, G
abe fell in behind the large man. Malak stopped and turned. He yanked the bucket out of Gabe’s hands. “Do you want to scrub all night too?” He tossed it to Jack. “Clean up what he didn’t finish. Get to it!” He squeezed the nape of Gabe’s neck with iron fingers. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “How are you doing, Gabe?” It was the Count who spoke. She sat on a bar stool behind a countertop made of solid marble. They were inside her office on the third floor of a small building near the center of town, what the citizens called headquarters. Her thick hair was pulled back, revealing her ageless features. She wore a sleeveless button-down cotton top. Jewelry, gold and silver, hung modestly from her neck and ears. Her wrists were wrapped in leather bracers with crimson flowers woven into them. She was daunting, dark, mysterious, and beautiful in an odd way. “I asked you a question.”

  Malak gave him a shove in the back.

  “Er… fine.” Gabe didn’t have any desire to speak to the woman who had killed his father. She was as big a murderer as Malak.

  The Count’s office was decorated with items he’d never seen before—pictures in frames. Shelves with odd baubles. There was a leather sofa, another made of a soft material, and a desk bigger than a cow. The items looked as though they’d been plucked from somewhere and saved. They were from the old world—they had to be. There were many windows, but the room was unusually cool.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Fine.”

  Elbows on the kitchenette counter and fists under her chin, her eyes bright, she said, “Is Malak treating you well?”

  No! Gabe averted his eyes. “Yes.”

  “That’s good to know.” She sounded pleasant. Too pleasant. “Malak, why don’t you give us a few moments?”

  Malak blanched. His mouth opened to speak.

  The Count’s eyes narrowed.

  He grunted. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

  Malak departed. The doors closed. That left Gabe alone with the Count inside the expansive room. He noted more guards stationed outside and didn’t doubt that a single shout would send them rushing through the door. Not that he had anything in mind. But it was clear to him that the Count wasn’t very popular. He’d noticed a few other things in his glimpses of her over the past several days. She walked with more escorts than she had before. It seemed odd for such a brazen woman.

  She stepped out from behind the counter. Gabe’s eyes locked on the pistol holstered in the center of her waist. Her hand fell over top of it. “The gun didn’t kill Saul. I did. Lucky for me, the Judge doesn’t have a mind of its own.” She came closer. With gentle fingers, she lifted his chin until her eyes met his own. “Are you ready to move on?”

  A lump formed in his throat. If he had words to say, he couldn’t say them anyway. Without having any idea what she was talking about, he gave a stiff nod.

  She smoothed his hair back with his fingers. Her thumbs caressed his cheek. “You have your father’s handsome features. The women like that. I like that. The shine in your eyes is unique. So let me ask you: do you think about women?”

  He shook his head.

  She chuckled. “You will.” Taking him by the hand, she led him over to the leather couch. Her sweet scent lingered in the air.

  His heart began to race. What is she doing?

  “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to drink.”

  He sat down, sinking deeper into the sofa than he’d meant to. Hands at his sides, he froze and glanced around the room. He spied statues of animals he’d never seen before. A rack of horns hung over the wall.

  Gabe’s feet tapped on the tiled floor. The Count made her way to a white cabinet with an easy and seductive grace. She pulled the handle on the door, bent over, and removed a can. With a smile, she came back and sat beside him. She handed him the can. “Hold this.”

  He took the can. His eyes grew. The metal can was icy to the touch, cold like the snows of winter. He shifted the can into his other hand, wiping his free palm on his pants. “What is it?”

  “Soda. A gift from the old world.” She reached across his body, brushing her figure against his, grabbed his can-filled hand, and pulled the tab on the top. The can cracked. Foam fizzled at the top, startling him. With an easy laugh, she said, “Drink. You’ll like it. I promise.”

  He sniffed the can. The sweet aroma reminded him of honey. Gabe had no desire to do anything that she asked of him. He hated her. But she held a power over him, and he was compelled to obey. He drank. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it. He took a bigger gulp. The soda tickled his nose.

  “Do you like it?”

  Gabe nodded.

  “That’s good. And keep this between you and me. I don’t think Malak would understand.” She took the can from his hand and set it on the table. Her thighs rubbed against his. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and leaned her head on her fist. “We need to talk, Gabe. Just you and I. I’m no fool. I know you hate me. I know you blame me. But Saul is gone. That doesn’t mean that you can’t have a better life than he had. And I want you to listen to me. I cared for your father. It hurts me knowing that I’m the one who pulled the trigger on this gun. But I didn’t have a choice, Gabe. They didn’t give me one. The blood law can’t be changed. Saul made a mistake. He paid for it.”

  He didn’t believe her, but he wanted to. “They?”

  “The Dominion, Gabe. I’m the authority in Newton, as you and I know, but everyone has someone to answer to. I answer to them. If I could have covered up your father’s transgression, I would have. But the Dominion, well, I didn’t get to be where I am today without adhering to their demands. They don’t want any civil unrest. It’s up to me to see that the citizens remain calm. Justice must be swift.”

  “That wasn’t justice,” Gabe mumbled. “My father was—”

  She put her fingers over his lips. “It’s time to move on. No words can bring him back. You said you wanted to move on. Did you mean it or not?” She took his soda and drank. “You need to be sure about it.”

  Gabe’s thoughts swam in a stormy sea of emotion. He had no one to turn to. Malak hated him. Jubal hated him. The world hated him. The Count was the only person who’d offered him any semblance of comfort since he’d lost his father. But he hated her too. How could he trust the woman who’d killed his father?

  “What is it going to be, Gabe? Do you seek justice, or do you seek rest? Finding justice is a long and lonely path. It comes with trials. It comes with enemies. You are too young to understand what justice is. Wait until you are older. Then, I promise, the veil will be lifted from your eyes. Just think, Gabe. Search your heart. What would your father want for you? Would he want you to fight for him, or would he want you to be safe, have a promising life, perhaps a family of your own?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t live your life filled with indecision. To move forward, to achieve, you have to be strong. Your father, despite his error, was strong. He made the most of his opportunities. Make the most of the one you are being given now. A broad road of wonder lies ahead. With my help, you can take it.”

  Her soothing tone and well-spun words convinced him. He was too young to take on life all on his own. He needed help. An outlet. An escape. He gave a firm nod. “What happens now, Count?”

  “When we are alone, you may call me Angela.” She rubbed his thigh and handed him back his drink. “Now, we eat.” She clapped her hands.

  From a concealed location behind the marble counter, Sage emerged, dressed in his long robe that was more beige than green and carrying a platter. He set it on the table in front of Gabe and Angela. Plates were filled to brimming with steamy hunks of meat. There were bowls of rice, a brown gravy, and bread.

  Angela handed him a metal fork and knife. “Eat. Enjoy. But don’t get used to it. You’re still living with Malak, and his supplies won’t be so ample. But if all goes well, we can share more meals like this from time to time.” She stood up. “Sage and I have another matter to attend to. Fill yourself.�
�� She and Sage departed through the alcove behind the counter.

  Gabe ate. He dipped the bread in the gravy and stuffed it in his mouth. The forkfuls of rice were hot and buttery. The meat—a hot, shredded pork in a tangy sauce—was divine. The emptiness inside began to fill, but he felt guilty. Why is she doing this? Maybe she feels guilty too. The food was easy enough to swallow. Angela’s story not so much, but he wanted to believe. Saul had told him that there was good in everyone, even in the worst cases. His father’s words echoed in his mind. It’s there. You just have to look for it.

  As he finished off the last of his food, the main door into the office opened. Malak marched through. Rage filled his face, and he yelled, “What do you think you are doing?”

  CHAPTER 39

  Malak snatched Gabe up by the neck. He hoisted him high into the air.

  Gabe kicked and flailed. He chopped at Malak’s arms.

  “How dare you eat the Count’s meal?” Malak roared. His strong fingers dug into Gabe’s flesh. “How dare you?”

  Suffocating, Gabe scratched at the man’s hands. The guards entered the room, clubs ready. He kicked out, knocking one of the soda cans over, spilling it onto the floor. He spit out the only word he could manage to say. “Help. Help.”

  “Shut up!” Malak’s face reddened with anger. His puffy features darkened with rage. Murder filled his eyes. He shook Gabe. “Shut up, you evil little spawn!”

  Gabe choked and sputtered. His eyes rolled up inside his head. He couldn’t breathe. His limbs started to slacken. His vain struggles eased. Malak couldn’t kill him. It was against the blood law to kill. This can’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. His thoughts and breathing faded.

  “What is the meaning of this?” The Count’s voice cut through the tension. “Malak! Release that boy at once!”