2

CHAPTER 2

 I stood in the sunlight once more and felt the sun’s heat on my shoulders and neck. The man I would find in Richmond was Richard ‘Little Rich’ Fallon, yet someone else I needed to chase down. I was what they call a Tracer, someone who tracks people down " or as we in the business call them, Skips. Usually I would be rewarded with a hefty sum of coin but when it came to Don, it would be done for free. Little Rich was a Tracer also, and if I were to be honest, slightly better than myself at the job. But he hadn’t checked in with the Boss for a while and that meant I had to find him.

 I had one hand it my pocket and the other rubbed the back of my neck to ease the ache. My fingers grazed the metal cylinder; I took it out and rolled it over in my fingers. The symbol looked familiar but nothing sprang to mind, however there was a weight about it, heavier than I would have expected a cylinder of its size. I looked at both ends but could see no way of opening it; it was sealed at both ends by a welder. As I turned it over, I could feel something coming from it, a heat which was odd in something metal, especially a silver metal. If it had been painted black the sun could heat it up. For some reason, though, I had the urge to play with it, to toss it up and down and flick it through the air and catch it again.

 I bit down on the mouthpiece of my pipe, struck a match and lit the tobacco inside whilst staring at the symbol. The warmth of the tobacco smoke spread through my chest almost immediately, calming by body as it did so. I blew out the smoke with an exaggerated sigh and let my shoulders relax.

 “Thought you were quitting?” a light, familiar voice floated down the alley in my direction.

 “Not now, Lowri,” I closed my eyes and leant my head back, rolling it over my shoulders looking for the sound of a pop that would release some of the tension.

 “Oh, dear, that bad, huh?” she stood in front of me leaning against the moss covered alley wall. Her blond hair was tied back and mostly hidden beneath a brown cap except for her fringe which stuck out at the front covering her forehead and ears. Her deep, emerald coloured eyes smiled at me under her long lashes. Other than the dimples her smile carved into her round, lightly freckled cheeks her skin looked soft, full and smooth. She thumbed her black braces playfully. She always had a habit of turning up when I was irritable, yet with her buoyant mood and laid back attitude towards work, most times she helped, though I’d never give her the satisfaction of telling her that, that’s just how childish I was.

 “May I help you?” I hadn’t slept all night, my eyes stung and my limbs felt tired. I puffed the sweet smoke as I caught up with her. My back ached and my legs were too close to feeling numb.

 “Heard you were looking for Little Rich, want some company?”

 “Oh, that bad?” I smiled a genuine smile for the first time since I saw her last.

 She punched me in the shoulder which hurt more than she had probably intended. “Shut up.”

 “What do you make of this?” I threw the cylinder to her as we began to walk.

 “Where’d you get it?”

 “Marv.”

 She looked up at me, thin eyebrows high, but didn’t falter her step. “You caught him?”

 I nodded not looking at her.

 “Hmm, and I’ll wager he didn’t say anything.”

 I shook my head. The alleyways were about ten foot wide and were lined with broken bricks, bricks which were meant to hold up buildings of shops and taverns, the entrances of which were on the other side. Alleyways always smelled the same, of piss. Every now and then a rat would scurry across our path and in one case, followed by a stray cat. No Roaches came through the alleys, didn’t need to, crime happened everyday in the sunshine and out on the streets and it happened because of neglect by the Royals. To Seren, the South was their alleyway. If you didn’t commit a crime here, you didn’t belong.

 Lowri clicked her tongue behind her teeth as she thought, inspecting the metal object, turning it over and over, “the symbol?”

 I shook my head again.

 “Looks like it could be a seal, royal maybe.”

 I frowned at the idea. Royal seals were usually on letters and documents, not on small metal objects found on Resources. Criminal seals were different though, they could be seen on pretty much anything as a means of communication. Cargo crates, swag bags, satchels, documents, these things tell us criminals what’s on the inside, who owns what and where these things are going. The idea of the cylinder’s seal being Royal seemed very unlikely. “Doubt it,” I held out my hand for her to give it back.

 She did so.

 “Why don’t you ask Prospect? He might know.”

 Prospect was the spiritual type, a man of the cloth, once a Dealer, specialising in art, paintings, sculptures, that sort of thing. Now, he was a Preacher for the soul, but his knowledge and love of fine art was still there. It was a good idea, if anyone knew of the symbol, he would, he’s seen symbols from across the world.

“So, what do you want Little Rich for anyhow?” Lowri asked with her hands back in the pockets of her dark, cut off at the knee trousers. Her dirtied, white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and an air of childishness radiated from her every pore as she almost bounced down the alleyway at my side, a stark contrast to my dragging of the feet.

 “Boss wants him,” I said, pocketing the cylinder after rolling it across my fingers a few more times.

 We stepped out onto Richmond. The wide street was paved with the same uneven, cobbled stones that could usually be found in the slums of South Seren. All around Richmond were tall buildings, not as tall as the stack of flats we were visiting, but their height certainly made me feel a bit dizzy when looking up at them. The blue sky was clear, not a cloud overhead, the sun was at its highest; it felt hot against my face as I held a hand to shelter my eyes.

 “Which floor?” Lowri asked paying more attention to the surroundings than the sky.

 “Third.”

 I looked at the tall stack of flats, dark and dingy, the walls were crumbling, and the windows were broken. Vines and ivy had crept up the bricks over the years. In my eyes, it was only a matter of time before the building gave way and collapsed, for this very reason, I was anxious about going in there, but I knew Don would smack the wuss right out of me if I didn’t do my job.

 “Ah s**t, I hate that place, always smells of piss.” Lowri’s face screwed up at the thought of the stench, small wrinkles creased the bridge of her nose.

 I forced a laugh through my dry, tired throat. “Come on.”

 “Wait.” She tugged on my shirt, nodded over to a side alley over to my right, and then to a rooftop on my left.

 Two men, large and burly were keeping watch.

 I was tired, I would have seen them if I were awake, so I told myself. “Watchers? Little Rich? How can he afford those?”

 “Don’t know, but I’d waste them before they get a chance on you.”

 “Fair enough, which one you want?”

 She nodded to the one on the rooftop and twisted her mouth into the smallest, wicked smile like she had just won a hand at the poker table.

 “Third floor, meet you there?” I said.

 She smiled and left me wondering how good my Watcher was.

 I moved over to my right, keeping close to the walls. I passed a stall with no tarp and a crowd of people bustling for the knocked off items the vendor was attempting to sell before any Roaches could spot him. I pulled the vendor’s long coat from a post. I pulled down my cap, turned up the collar on my new coat around my neck; I didn’t want to be recognised before it was too late just in case the Watcher was a man I had connections with. I pulled out my pipe whilst walking passed the Watcher.

 “Hey, excuse me?” I said patting my chest as if I had misplaced my matches.

 The Watcher looked at me as if I was a piece of s**t. “On your way, boy.”

 My eyebrows rose. “A light, sir, only a light?”

 The Watcher grabbed the scruff of the coat. “Leave.” His face was hard, his nose misshapen; his eyebrows were big and bushy. He seemed as wide as he was tall, with a barrel chest the same width as his gut.

 These Watchers were good, professional, probably came at high price. Most guards wouldn’t have thought twice about offering a light to a passerby, in fact it would have been a welcomed break to their monotonous day of keep an eye out. These two had been told to keep watch for Little Rich. I could tell he was going to be hard to take down. I allowed a small internal sigh of exhaustion.

 I pulled out my punch knife from the front of my belt, hopefully without him seeing and held it close to my right thigh.

 “Didn’t mean any offence by it, sir, please, just one.”

 “Listen,” he pinned me up against the wall on which he had leant, “get out of here before I cut your guts out.”

 I slashed my punch knife across his face, blood spat across my shirt. He retreated back into the alley. I bent down low, keeping my eyes on his centre. I led with my right foot, putting all my weight on it. If he was going to come at me I needed to keep low, stick to my strengths.

 He touched the blood running down his cheek and looked at it on his fingertips, then looked back at me. Somehow the alleyway seemed smaller, narrower than before. He smiled maliciously and pulled out a machete from behind his back; it had been tucked into the thick belt strapped around his waist. The blade was the length of his torso.

 “Are you kidding?” I pulled the coat off and threw it on the floor, then took out my dagger and held it in my left with my punch in my right.

 The Watcher smiled. He took a step forward and I braced myself how hard he swung his machete.

 I rolled forward and slashed the back of his calf; I turned on my knee to face him.

 He winced but didn’t stop. As soon as I landed he cut down.

 His blade met my dagger; the weight behind it was too much. I buckled and fell onto my backside. He was on top of me; his machete still on my dagger, the weight was unbearable. My left wrist started to ache as I tried to hold him back. I punched my knife into his shoulder.

 He let out a grunt of pain but didn’t ease up.

 I twisted it and he gave out a small yell before he punched me.

 His rough knuckles smacked against my cheek, quickly followed by a shot of pain which spread from my cheek to my eye and jaw, the swelling I could feel was growing already. My grip on my punch knife faltered, I used my now free hand to reinforce my strength on my dagger leaving my punch in his shoulder. It was like pushing against a brick wall, an immovable object.

 The Watcher drew closer; he was now close enough for me to smell the stench which came from his behind his black and yellow teeth. Then he stopped, he took a sharp intake of breath and clawed at something on his back. He fell on his side and behind him was Lowri, a long blade sticking out of the Watchers back.

 She blew out a breath and stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “You were taking too long.” She pulled the blade from the Watcher’s corpse, short and thin and dripping with blood. She wiped it on the Watcher’s clothes and handed me my petty punch knife.

 “How did you " never mind.” I stood up, again grateful for her company but now slightly bitter also. I tucked the knife into my belt and picked up the long coat, it felt comfortable as I pulled on over my shoulders, not a bad swipe for being in a rush.

 We made our way to the shabby looking door at the front of the building. It was hanging off at its hinges.

 “Safe place for Little Rich to hide up, eh?” Lowri said she had her hands in her pockets again, that air of innocence was back despite her murdering two men.

 “With those Watchers, yeah I’d say so, plus I bet his door’s safe enough.”

 Lowri was right, it did stink of piss, with a mixture of something else I tried my hardest not to recognise. The walls were narrow, not as narrow as Breaches’ place but, narrow enough that Lowri and I had to walk in single file up the staircase. The third floor didn’t look much better than the rest of Richmond. The walls were ridden with damp; every floorboard squeaked and groaned under our feet. The windows were boarded up.

 We reached Little Rich’s door, the only one on this level. We checked down the hallway on both sides for anymore Watchers. Nothing.

 “Does it seem odd that he had eyes outside and not in here?” I whispered as we stood outside the plain, splintered, wooden door, a crooked number four was nailed into the wood.

 “Yeah, does seem strange.” She shrugged. “Ah well.” She rapped on the door twice.

 No answer.

 I knelt down and pulled out my pick and wrench from my lock picking set. I pushed up each pin with the pick whilst adding torque onto the wrench with each click, soon all of the pins lifted into their slots and the wrench was free to turn completely, unlocking the door as it did so.

 “You’re getting good at that.” Lowri whispered.

 “Done it enough times.” I stood up and put my tools into a pocket. “Ready?”

 The door opened, its hinges let out a plea for oil as I pushed. Not the way I would have like to have entered, silence was always a welcomed friend in this business, and noise was just messy. We took a step in, the paper peeled from the walls and the smell of damp and rot filled our lungs.. The shutters were closed; the only source of light came from the doorway in which we stood.

 Lowri held a hand to her nose

 We stepped into the dark room, the floorboards felt as if they were hanging on for dear life under the weight of Lowri’s slight figure and my... average size. “Rich?” I called into the darkness. 

 No reply.

 “Maybe your information was wrong.”

 “Maybe,” I walked in, closely followed by Lowri. My fingers groped the pommel of my dagger behind my back as we took a look around Little Rich’s flat. There wasn’t much furniture, after all, Little Rich only slept here. In our line of work, movement kept others guessing, which is why it took me so long to find him. The bare essentials were here, chair, bed, table, fireplace, other than that the flat was empty.

 A shadow moved to my left. My dagger was in my right hand instantly, with my tip up and leading my stance.

 Lowri had followed suit, her thin blade held against her chest, it didn’t seem strong enough to withstand a swipe from a long or broadsword, but it’s skinniness meant it was damn near hard to see, add that to Lowri’s agility and speed when attacking meant anyone was vulnerable.

 A shadow shifted again behind me.

 I spun around.

 Then another moved behind us both.

 Soon Lowri and I were back to back, blades up and eyes wary.

 “Rich? Boss just wants to see you,” I called at the shadows in the faint hope that they would not attack us.

 “Cal?” Lowri’s voice wavered from behind my back, “I don’t see any bodies.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “I mean they’re just shadows.”

 “And?”

 “And, you don’t think that’s strange?” She shoved me with her elbow and pointed.

 I turned to look, a dark figure stood in the corner, not a solid figure, but a dark mass pinned against the damp walls. Coldness spread across my body. I felt a shiver trickle down my arms as the hairs under my long coat stood up. There weren’t eyes on the figure, but a feeling of being watched came over me. It was an unnerving feeling. Its breath was slow, careful, and precise. It stated confidence.

 “S**t,” was all I could say.

 “Ideas?” Came from my back.

 “Um... head for the door?”

 “There’s one there too.”

 I couldn’t help but curse a few more times.

 I took a step forward and the shadows moved; they swarmed over us like a flock of birds over breadcrumbs, scratching and clawing at our skin. The pain of every slice shot through my body as if I was being cut by one of Dole’s thick blades. My knee buckled as I brought my arms up to my face. Through the gap of my arms I could see a thin sheet of darkness, no solid mass, and Lowri to my left on her hands and knees and screaming in pain. Blood began spray from my arm. My natural response was to slash with my dagger and punch, but I might as well have tried to cut through smoke. My blades passed through their near transparent skin like air, Lowri’s likewise.

 I heaved myself onto both my feet, keeping my arms raised to protect my face. I took an agonising step forward, then another, and another. Something caught my foot and I fell, but farther than I had expected. I hit the floorboards and then fell a further ten feet to the flat below. I hit the floor hard. I struggled to my hands and knees before I felt a hand wrap around my bicep and pull me.

 “Come on,” Lowri shouted at me.

 It was light in this flat, the dust from the fall danced through the sun’s rays that beamed through the open windows. I heaved myself onto my knees and looked up. Through the dust the Shadows waited, pinned to the walls of Little Rich’s flat.

 “They can’t come into the light.”

 “What?” Lowri looked up to the Shadows.

 They waited, prowling like lions in cages with the smell of meat in the air, all hungry for blood.

 Then I felt it, a burning sensation against my leg, I hadn’t felt it before because of the Shadows clawing my arms. I clapped my hand to my thigh and felt the small bulge of the cylinder. I turned my pocket inside out and the metal cylinder hit the floor, a small wisp of smoke rose as it rolled across the wooden boards. The Shadows screeched at the sight of it, a high pitched shriek that hurt my ears.

 “Come on, let’s go.” Lowri shouted and tugged again.

 “Wait,” there was a marking scratched into the wall, my mouth gaped at the sight of it, two lines crossing encased in a circle. It was the exact same symbol on the cylinder. The marking on Little Rich’s wall was messy, rushed even.

 I looked from it to the cylinder and back again. The metal cylinder was a bright red. The Shadows still circled, screeching as they did so like I had taken a baby from their nest.

 I took off my coat and wrapped the small cylinder up. We left the Shadows hissing at our backs.

 We left Richmond, dusting ourselves off outside the stack of flats.

 “What the hell were those things doing there?” Lowri asked from under her furrowed brow, her teeth gritted as she beat her cap against her equally dusted leg. A gash was cut across her left cheek; blood had trickled down to the point of her chin. Further cuts lined her arms from protecting herself.

 “I don’t know, think it was a trap?” I coughed several times and spat dust onto the street. I unravelled the cylinder, it was quite cool now. I picked it up and inspected it further.

 “Breaches? A trap? He’s knows his stuff, but, no, he’s a tool not a player.”

 I looked at the symbol carved into the silver metal with careful precision. I wondered what it meant and why those things were waiting for us. “Whatever the reason, it has something to do with this.” The annoyance of the symbol’s familiarity got to me. I knew I had seen it somewhere before but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where.

 I put the cylinder back into my pocket and put my coat back on. I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. I closed my eyes to let them rest for a moment, also in an attempt to clean the dust from them.

 “I picked this up; found it on the floor of the second flat. Here.” Lowri held out a piece of paper.

 It was a photograph. In black and white, a short man, broad shouldered with a slim waist. He wore a suit, probably tailor made with a lily flower tucked into the buttonhole on the single-breasted suit. This man was Little Rich, dark hair with a small goatee on the tip of his pointed chin. His dark eyes were sunken into his high cheeks, his receding hair combed to one side on top of his high forehead.

 But it wasn’t Little Rich I was interested in, it was the man stood next to him. A man who looked incredibly smart, slim, tall, hair slicked back and tied in a small pony tail at the back. His almond shaped eyes were behind large thick spectacles atop his long nose. I recognised this man from somewhere, but I couldn’t recall where, yet another memory which will scratch away at the back of my mind.

 “Thanks,” I tucked the photograph into my back pocket.

“Oh, by the way, Don wants you.”  Lowri spoke as she pulled her cap back on.

 I grunted irritably.

 “Hey, don’t get pissy with me. I’m just the messenger, he’s your brother.”

 I never did like visiting my older brother. Don was the Street Boss of South Seren, my Street Boss, and a ruthless one at that. Don’s territory ran from the walls of Seren City to Val Corner at the heart. There weren’t many things that Don didn’t know about, everyone in the South answered to him eventually.

 Don had become a Boss when I turned twenty one and he was thirty. Him reaching his goal of becoming the most powerful man in South Seren " other than the king himself " was one he felt I needed to know on a regular basis, even with the assignments I’m given, I’m made to feel littler than he, like he’s accomplished more with his life. It was true but I didn’t like to be reminded of it.

 Lowri left, saying her goodbyes as she walked down the street and around a corner. I couldn’t help but watch her walk; her trousers seemed tighter while she had her hands in her pockets and her now, blood stained shirt hugged her lean back.

 Any call from Don needed to be answered immediately; Prospect and the mysterious cylinder would have to wait. I needed to speak with Don anyway; I would have pushed our appointment back a few days though if I had the choice.

Reviews

[Zachary_James]

Great chapter. I'm reading on plus I love the characters. Marv Is my favorite one i think i don't know... Yet anyways, love it.

[Morrigan Nicole]

Okay, so i only had time to read a fourth of it, but will review it anyways. I think that it is very good, you could do more with describing the surroundings, and i am confused as to what/who they are looking for and why... but this is not necasarly a bad thing, quite the contrary, it is holding my attention very well because i am eager to find our why the things that are happening are happening. and i like the main character's secretiveness and his hidden feelings about lowri. This is quite an adventure you have here, a real page turner!

I will review again once i have read the rest, or at least another portion, of this chapter.

Love it so far! :)

[Callum]

Still holding the attention of this reader...

[Coyote Poetry]

The description made the story a great pleasure to read. I like the way you make each character important. I like the house. Ghostly people always bring spirit to a good story. No weakness in the chapter. A excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Larry Dyson]

very well written , like the descriptives and metaphors ...the details are well written .A few tense problems and some sp error but its a great chapter..