Chương 28: Chapter 27 – A Matter of Perspective

Passage opened his eyes and stopped pretending sleep would come. Already, grey fingers of dawn were reaching through the gaps in the shutters, clawing their way across the room. He'd lain still all night, eyes closed, waiting for his thoughts to slow and his mind to quiet. They had not. For hours his mind had gone in circles, regrets and what ifs and what nows chasing each other endlessly. He hadn't found an answer for any of them. The door opened softly and Passage glanced towards it.

Bracken sneaking back in with a tray of food. The others shuffled about, sitting up on the bed or claiming a space on the floor. All except Torvin. It seemed that he alone had truly slept. Bracken paused by the door, looking as guilty as he had since they'd arrived. He passed the food around, the breakfast another in what Passage knew would be a long string of wordless apologies, no matter how the rest of them tried to absolve him.

"What's the plan?" Passage asked, breaking the silence when no one else seemed willing.

"We wait here, keep our heads down. Edrin will come by soon, I'm sure. Less sure what I'll tell him when he does," said Bracken, claiming the chair by the window. He raised a piece of toast to his lips, paused, sighed, and dropped it back into his lap like the mere act of eating was too great a chore. Passage's stomach churned, sore and sour. He sympathised. The hours between disaster and dawn had done none of them any kindness. Least of all Bracken and Passage.

Bracken's eyes were sunken and bruised, his lip split, a hundred tiny hurts stitched together into a single aching patchwork. Passage's body was much the same. His fingers hurt to bend, his hands busted worse than after any brawl he'd ever fought. He kept his breathing shallow to avoid the pain in his chest. Yet it was a miracle they were not hurt much worse, the bell's blessing had saved their lives without a doubt.

Passage tried to find some small vindication in that knowledge, comfort that he'd been right to bring it. He failed.

"What about after? When do we go home?" Ressa asked. She sat with knees to her chest, back against the wall. Of course she was worried, she had younger siblings to look out for. She really was too decent to be caught up with the rest of them.

"I don't know," Bracken replied, eyes stuck to the floor.

"Maybe tonight. Maybe in a few days," said Passage. He didn't know any better than the rest of them and was certainly no less scared. But sometimes, people just need a calm voice. The illusion that someone is in control, even if they all know it for a lie.

"We don't know yet whether anyone can tie us to what happened. It was dark and we left quickly. People will work out Patrick has gone missing before too long. Anyone who knew Cinder and Pike will know they were tormenting him. Shit, half the Gutters heard Cinder threatening to kill Jasper and Maria."

"Cinder was telling every man, woman, and stray cat that he meant to Forge himself last night. Not too much of a stretch to think that maybe he lost control, started the fire himself," Bracken added.

"So, what? Cinder started Forging, lost control and set the building on fire. Patrick went Hollow, showed up for a scrap, and ended up tussling with Pike. Cinder and Pike ended up dead, and we were never there?" Sable summarised, sounding unconvinced but hopeful.

"Why not? It's close enough to the truth. More believable than five teenagers staging an elaborate heist gone drastically wrong. What sort of idiots would be dumb enough to try drugging and robbing a pair of known murderers, let alone ones with magic?" Passage asked, hands splayed before him.

"I think you'll find they're called the Wyrms, and they're one of the most feared and capable street gangs in all the Gutters," said Bracken.

"Yeah, well, let's maybe keep that legend to ourselves for now, shall we?" said Ressa.

"Yeah," Bracken laughed, a little less bitter than before.

"Probably wise. I'll settle for just getting the matching gang tattoos for the time being."

"The what?" asked Ressa, eyebrows climbing into her hairline.

"Passage's idea, actually," Bracken lied, none of them believing it for a moment.

"A Wyrm tattoo, to make the name official."

"Nice," Sable nodded approvingly.

"I'm in."

"I can't tell if you're joking," said Ressa, like she hoped that they were.

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" Bracken goaded.

"Dropped it in one of the canals while we were making our getaway," Ressa fired back, drily.

"Passage, is he being serious?"

"Not the worst idea he's ever had. Might finally stop him changing the group's name every five minutes," Passage allowed, grateful for the lightness of the moment. Each of them was doing their best to buoy the others, to keep one another afloat atop their worries. It was their way.

"We're getting tattoos?" Torvin asked blearily, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"What?"

"I'm not even really opposed to it," said Ressa, "But is now really the right time? Shouldn't we hold off until we have something to celebrate?"

"We have something to celebrate," said Passage, the words easier to believe than he'd expected.

"We're alive. All of us. We did something last night. I don't know that we can call what we did good. Not sure my dad would think it was right. We're beat to hell, and we're tired, we lost the bell and we don't even have the knuckles to show for it." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Excellent speech, very uplifting," Sable commented. Passage ignored her and continued.

"But I think we can still be proud of the outcome. It's sad what happened to Patrick, it is. But Cinder and Pike are gone now, and I'd say the Gutters are better off for the loss of them. And if Patrick does take the blame for it, if people tell the story of a boy who went Hollow and fought back when Tallow pushed him too far… Maybe the next goons he sends around looking to recruit a fresh Stained will think twice about doing it." The others each gave a shallow nod at that, even Ressa.

Hard to say if they all really believed it, or if they just needed to find a way to feel better about things. Either way, it worked. Even Passage felt a little less guilty, a little less ashamed. Not absolved, but not quite willing to wallow in regret either. They passed the morning quietly after that. They joked occasionally, made conversation whenever it seemed like one of them was slipping too deep into darker thoughts. Morning turned to midday, turned to afternoon and still Edrin did not appear.

The sun was setting on their frayed nerves when finally, a gentle knocking sounded at the door. Passage rose to answer it, stiff and sore, but ready to hold it closed if the wrong person was on the other side. He needn't have worried. Edrin's face appeared in the gap when he cracked it open. The middle brother of the Mercer family looked a lot like Bracken, only taller and with more muscle on his frame. The brothers were much alike in personality as well.

Both ambitious and malcontent, quick to make a joke, and a mistake quicker still. Neither one meant ill, they just tended to think in terms of rewards before consequences. But that was where their similarities ended. If Bracken was a poet, thinking in terms of stories and grand ambitions, then Edrin was a mercenary in service to his plans. It was why he'd joined the guard, after all.

Both he and Bracken had talked about being Stained since they were small, only Edrin followed the simplest and most logical path to do it. Passage had never liked the man half as much as he liked Bracken. But he didn't let that show on his face as he pulled open the door, thankful for the man's help the night before. He wasn't dressed in uniform, but he still carried himself like a guard. One of the better trained ones, at least. Shoulders square, back straight, eyes hard and watchful.

"You lot, out," Edrin jerked his thumb towards the hall, speaking to everyone but Bracken. The others stood and shuffled towards the door, seeming uncertain about leaving Bracken alone. His brother had him speared against the wall with his gaze.

"I'll stay," Passage declared, not looking for permission. The others, all a little stir crazy after a day stewing in anxiety and close confines, nodded their approval and left. Ressa lingered in the doorway a moment, looking back at Passage with something kinder and more concerned than he knew how to respond to in her expression. She flashed him a tight smile and pulled the door shut behind her. Edrin tilted his head back to look Passage in the eye, considered, then shrugged.

He grabbed a chair and Passage sat on the bed.

"So, it was you lot then?" Edrin asked.

"What was us?" Bracken asked back.

"Don't," Edrin growled.

"Don't even fucking try it. I'm trying to help, that means you need to level with me. What did you idiots do?"

"How much do you already know?" Passage interjected. Edrin took a deep breath and glanced his way. It was clear he'd rather have this conversation alone with his brother, but he also knew Passage well enough not to bother arguing.

"I know two of Tallow's enforcers went missing last night. I know their place burned down. I know people heard fighting, and a lot of yelling, and that there's talk of a new Hollow in the canals. Some people are saying it was involved in whatever happened last night. Damn thing has been spotted twice today, already drowned someone from the sounds of it. Bastard has the guards spooked and the Wardens talking about a visit to low town.

"I also know that you two look like shit warmed over, that you've got soot stains on your clothes, and that you and your buddies fled the Gutters last night smelling like smoke. So, now, how about you tell me what I don't know?" Bracken swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Passage sat perfectly still, not liking the way Edrin sounded more like a detective than a brother.

"We were there," Bracken admitted, reluctantly. Two of the most important rules the five of them had lived by since before they were old enough to really appreciate their meaning. You don't lie to friends, and you don't talk to the law. Bracken decided for them that Edrin was first and foremost still a friend.

"The pair of them had been threatening a family. The son, Patrick, he was Stained a few weeks ago. Tallow wanted him in the gang, Cinder and Pike were putting pressure on his parents to make it happen."

"Went as far as threatening my dad, and anyone else trying to support them," Passage added, putting cards on the table. If Bracken wanted to trust Edrin, then so would he.

"We were just planning on stealing Pike's Implement, a set of Durnheim-Stained knuckles. Figured we were doing something good taking a weapon out of dumb and dangerous hands."

"Yeah, and I reckon you thought you could do even more good with the money from selling them," Edrin replied, seeming unimpressed. Bracken shrugged, not bothering to deny it. Edrin closed his eyes and shook his head. With a sigh, he ordered them, "Tell me everything." So, they did. It took the better part of an hour in between the occasional interruption or caustic remark.

Bracken and Passage took turns, filling in the details of the past few days, right up to and including the heist gone wrong, and what they'd discussed that day about the lie they hoped to sell. By the end, Edrin sat back with his arms folded over his chest, expression shuttered.

"Okay," Edrin said, at last.

"We can work with this. Nothing is fucked here, alright? I'm going to help you out."

"You already have," Bracken said, sounding every inch the younger brother. Edrin held up a hand to stop him speaking.

"You're going to stay here a few more days. You can pay me back the cost of it later, just keep putting the room and food on my tab. You didn't speak to anyone else on the way out of the Gutters, and only you five know what really happened. We can work with that. My boys won't talk to anyone down the hill about seeing you, I'll make sure of it. So, just keep your heads down for a couple of days, don't try to sell the books until this becomes old news, and I'll see about spreading some rumours.

Maybe some friends and I go for a drink at Silk's Laundry, let ourselves be overheard talking about the things we've heard. Witnesses talking about a Hollow on a rampage, Stained kid pushed too far. The story can work. You just need to give it time and keep your heads down in the meantime. Alright?"

"Alright," said Bracken, sounding relieved and looking lighter than he had all day, if still a little shaky.

"Alright," said Passage, doing his best to be as hopeful. For a boy raised in a temple, he had an awful hard time taking anything on faith.