Skate looked to Haman and saw no support there. His narrow eyes showed perhaps sadness, but no help. No willingness to intervene.
She was trapped.
Skate felt herself starting to cry. She blinked hard and swallowed. It was her father’s voice she heard in her head, a voice she had not heard in years. Be strong, it said. Cry later, away from these men. Be strong. It helped her. It surprised her, too. She took strength from the memory.
After a steadying breath, Skate said, “All right. I’ll pay what I owe. I’ll do it, monster or no monster.”
The Boss grinned his toothy grin, and Haman nodded. “I knew you would, girl,” said the Boss. “I knew you’d do what’s smart. You’re a survivor, aren’t you? That’s what I’ve said about you since I met you. Ain’t that so, Haman?”
“Just so, Boss.”
“Sure, ‘Skate’s smart and a survivor’; that’s what I say. Well, you better get back to work,” Boss Marshall said, motioning toward the door, “while I take care of more business with Haman. And, Skate,” he added as she put her hand on the handle, “don’t give it away. It’d be bad enough for a wizard to find out who you work for, but I don’t want to deal with something that fought death itself and won. Be smart, like I know you are.”
Skate took the final words as the dismissal they were and stepped back out of the room. She closed the door behind her and saw a familiar shock of blond hair headed her way through the shadows.
Twitch was alone and seemingly in good spirits; he had a bounce in his step even though he seemed lost in thought. Skate whistled at him, and he perked up at the sight of her. He smiled and changed course from the Boss’s door to her.
“Boss is meeting with Haman,” she said, taking a seat at one of the tables, “so you gotta wait.”
“No—no problem,” he said, sitting near her in another chair, “I can wait. I made a great haul.” He patted a bag at his hip. “Nicked some silver off a vendor, then got some spices out of a warehouse. Already took ’em to Rog,” he explained, naming one of the Ink’s approved fences, “and I got more than enough to cover my quota this week. Even after the—the Ink gets their cut of the leftovers, I’ll have a nice bit of silver to hold on to.”
“Nice one,” Skate said, holding her hand out to examine the bag. Twitch handed it over, and she felt its weight. “Yeah, you’ll be fine.” She smiled and gave it back.
“Yeah. So how’d it go with your guy? Did you find something worth stealing from him yet?”
“Nah, not yet, but I found out some stuff.” Skate explained what she’d learned and what Haman and the Boss thought it meant. Twitch looked horrified.
“They can’t make you go back if he’s some sort of monster! Well, I-I guess they can, but they shouldn’t!” His good mood was gone, replaced by anger and indignation. “It’s dangerous. Way t-too dangerous.”
“Everything we do is dangerous,” Skate reminded him. His discomfort bolstered her somehow. “It’ll be fine. If he wanted to hurt me, he could have done it last night. Although…” She trailed off, thinking of the less-than-friendly conversation they had had before she left. “It’ll be fine,” she repeated, deciding she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
“If you say so,” Twitch said, looking into his bag and counting the coins. “You can han-handle yourself.”
“No doubt about it.” Skate smiled at her friend, who was engaged in counting his money. She knew he was genuinely worried about her, and she also knew he genuinely had confidence in her ability to stay alive and take what she could. His apparent lack of concern was a show of his belief in her. The blind trust puffed her spirits up; Belamy did not seem so dangerous anymore. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
Before she could answer, the Boss’s door opened, and Haman walked out. He saw Twitch and Skate and cut his eyes toward the door to signal that the young boy could go in. Twitch scooped up his bag to deliver his payment firsthand, leaving Skate alone. She decided to make her way back to Belamy’s house. Before leaving, though, she needed some more information. She walked over to Haman’s table, where he had again taken his seat behind the great wall of paperwork.
“Skate,” he said without looking up as she approached, his eyes shifting between whatever he had brought in to the Boss and the blank page in front of him, “is there something I can do for you?”
“Yeah, Haman. How can I tell if he’s a vampire?”
“Garlic,” he said, putting the finished page on the table next to the blank one. “Vampires don’t like garlic or sunlight. There would also be a coffin somewhere nearby that he’d spend time in. He’d need to…eat, as well, so you should be able to find some evidence of that.”
“Okay.” Skate felt confidence rising in her like steel, an unbending bar of willpower to face whatever she needed to face, including asking this next question: “Have you seen Kite?”
Haman blinked and shook his head. Skate saw a flash of dislike in that action that was quickly replaced by Haman’s calm, neutral expression of polite disinterest. “No, not since he paid his dues two days ago. Why? I never got the sense that you wanted to work with Kite or even liked the fellow.” After he spoke, he drew one flat palm across the blank page in front of him while the other hand pointed at the words on the marked page. As his palm moved down, the exact same marks appeared on the blank page as on the marked one. He flipped both pages over and began the process anew.
Skate smiled. “Just wondering.” That meant he hadn’t told Haman or the Boss about their little meeting. He’s probably too embarrassed, she thought. How could he tell anyone without revealing that he had failed to bully a nine-year-old girl? He would sound like a lunatic if he mentioned Rattle to anyone who had not seen it, so he had not told anyone. “Thanks, Haman.” She stood and turned back toward the exit. “Tell Twitch I’ll see him around, and not to spend all his money on tobacco.”
“I’m not your messenger, Skate,” Haman said in a bored voice as he lifted the newly written page, examining it for copy errors.
Skate smiled again and began to walk down the hall.
“Skate.” Haman’s voice echoed down the hall as she prepared to turn the corner. He had set both pages down and was looking at her. He took his lenses off and held them in his hand as he leaned forward, his head framed by the documentation surrounding him. “Stay safe. The Boss doesn’t want you to fail, and neither do I.”
Skate nodded and left the hideout. There was something in Haman’s voice that bothered her. It was only after she had stepped back into the open air behind the tavern that she was able to determine what it was: sympathy.
She rolled her eyes and made her way back to Belamy’s old stone house in the Old Town, reminding herself to make a quick stop by a spice vendor on her way.
Chapter 7
In which a theory is tested, a secret room is explored, and some soup is set on the floor to cool.
Skate stood once more at the door of Barrison Belamy’s home as the afternoon sun disappeared behind a few blanket-like clouds. She wondered briefly how best to enter, and decided a knock at the door would be most appropriate, given that she was not sure she was still welcome as a guest. She banged her fist on the heavy wooden portal, listening carefully for approaching footsteps or a call to enter. She heard the familiar sound of Rattle’s legs clicking together, and moved her head away from the door. The latch clicked, and the door slowly swung open, though not all the way. Rattle moved away from the door, so she went in.