It was a new day. A new life. Spade could feel the change in the air as he got dressed, yanking on an old t-shirt and jeans that Ashe had snuck in for them earlier that morning. The waistband sagged, obviously intended for a bigger man than his emaciated frame. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do to a person; his head felt clearer, his body refreshed. One night of rest couldn't possibly fix the damage that had been done, but Aroth, it did help.
Knight shifted in bed at the sound of his brother's movement. He squinted an eye open, refusing to budge from the nest of pillows and blankets he'd made for himself throughout the night.
"Where are you going?"
"Gonna talk to Crow," Spade said as he laced his shoes. Knight sat up a little straighter.
"You're going to do what?"
Spade had a feeling his brother would protest, but that was why he'd planned to sneak out before Knight woke up. He'd spent a lot of time this morning thinking about his next step as he lay in bed. They couldn't remain hiding in Ashe's room forever–he didn't even know if they'd be able to stay another night–and Spade needed a job. It was this or the streets, as always. Hells Gate waited just outside, its cold embrace of concrete waiting to take in yet another pair of orphans.
Knight seemed to catch Spade’s troubled expression. “You can talk to me, you know. It’s like you’re always hiding things. Why?" Spade didn't look at him. "You don’t think I can handle it? I’m your brother. I’m not just this thing you have to deal with.”
“It’s not like that,” he replied. “Stop being so dramatic. You’re giving me a headache.” He wondered what his angle would be to convince Crow to let someone like him join X. His experience with the Youths wasn’t necessarily a boon. After all, Spade’s job had been the most debased of them all; harvesting organs after the others killed some poor fucker was a messy business that X rarely engaged in. X was known for sex and death, and Spade was simply a vulture picking the bones off of others’ kills.
The creak of the bed as Knight stood up snapped Spade out of his thoughts. Knight’s shirt drooped from his shoulders, several sizes too large. He swayed as he stood, his thin legs giving him the look of a newborn fawn. He appeared fragile, as if his bones could snap at any moment.
“Get back in bed,” Spade said, his sharp tone laced with concern.
“Where are you going? Why are you visiting Crow?” Knight crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the bunk, drumming his fingers against his forearm. Although he was annoyed, Spade could see his brother's anxiety creeping in with each tap of his fingers against his flesh.
Spade sighed. This argument with Knight only grew more frequent. “I’m going to ask Crow for a job so I can work here.”
“Killing people. You’re going to kill people,” Knight said flatly. “You're better than that. Spade, let’s think about this. There have to be other options.”
Spade hung his head. “No. You really don’t understand how this works. Every day I make a choice: will I die or will I be a fucking murderer?” Knight flinched at his tone. “If there was anything else, I would be doing it. Stop making this harder for me. This is for you.”
Knight frowned. “I never asked for this! Why would I? Damn it, Spade, I hear you tossing and turning all night! I see how you can’t sleep! And you want to kill more people? After what Dral did to you? You never learn anything.”
“Oh, I learned a lot,” Spade said. “It won’t happen again. I promise that.”
“Spade,” Knight pronounced his name with an edge of warning. “You don’t have to do this just because of what happened to you. We can figure something else out that doesn’t end up with you at the bottom of the ocean–but we need to get out of here first.”
“And sleep where?” Spade took a step toward his brother. “Where are all these options, Knight? You have connections I don’t know about? Maybe you can hook me up with some rich asshole?”
Knight tightened the grip on his arms, lips thin. “You can be such a dick. Fine. Do it. You’re going to do what you want anyway. Never mind me.”
Spade bit back his next retort, realizing that Knight had more energy this morning than he had in the past few months. He swore he could even see the pinkish flush of color return to his brother’s cheeks. The change in environment seemed good for Knight. The orphanage had lulled him, numbing his failing senses at the onslaught of noise and filth that polluted the air. It was possible to lay down for hours and only catch brief windows of sleep, but here, in this new place, Knight looked alive with bright rested eyes, even if that gaze was currently glaring holes through his brother. Spade couldn’t possibly be angry with Knight, not when he looked this healthy.
“How’d you sleep?” Spade said.
Knight hesitated, surprised at this sudden question. “Pretty good actually.” He sounded as if he didn’t believe himself. “It’s nice to have a mattress and sheets. I was warm.”
Spade smiled. "Yeah, you passed right out. I could barely sleep with all that snoring."
"Look who's talking. You sound like a motorboat." Knight rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you wake me up if I was that bad?"
"It's not like it's the first time I've had to sleep through it." Spade waved him off. "Anyway, I knew you needed the sleep.You look pretty healthy right now.”
Knight touched his cheek, pleased. “Healthy, huh? That's a first. Must be the light playing tricks on you. We are underground. Wait until we get out in the sun again.”
"Oh, I'm sure you'll go back to looking like a ghost in no time," Spade reassured him. Knight jokingly flipped him off. “This place has its perks. Maybe it’s time we took advantage of it.”
“Perks,” Knight said incredulously. “You mean Ashe, don’t you?”
Spade’s posture straightened as he puffed his chest. “Yeah, maybe I do–and a lot more. Why the fuck can’t I have the best stuff? I’m not living the rest of my life as the punk everyone else kicks the shit out of. If I want something, I’ll take it.”
“Okay, good luck with that. She seems a lot more experienced than you. I’m sure you’re not the only guy who’s after her. She’s probably used to it.”
Spade grinned. “When you say that, it makes me want her more. Fuck the other guys.”
“She’s gonna crush you under her heel.”
“Aroth, I hope so. It’ll make it better when I hold her down.”
Knight rolled his eyes. “You know not to hold girls–well, anyone–down, right? Unless they ask for it.”
Spade's smile dropped, offended. “Of course I do! What do you take me for? She’s gonna beg for it, though. What the fuck do you know about it, anyway?”
“What do you know?” Knight laughed, but then looked pensive. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees. “Be careful, Spade. We both saw who her boyfriend is.”
Spade scoffed, but his spine tensed at the memory of Charien’s presence from the night before, his embrace snaking around Ashe, the contemptuous tones of his voice still echoing in Spade’s ears. A man who was used to getting whatever he wanted. Spade had seen the way the world threw riches at the feet of men like Charien, those cruel enough to impose their desires on others. What chance did they have against someone like him? “He’s not her boyfriend.”
“Does it matter? He’ll kill you.”
“Yeah, it does! You think she wants to be with that creep? Who would?”
Knight lay back on the bed and stared at the bottom of Spade's bunk. “You’re hopeless.” He idly fiddled with the portable TV, which he still couldn’t use without a tape player. It rested on his belly, screen inert and blank, reflecting his dim image. “I wish I had a book. It really helps make the time go by. I think too much without anything to do, you know?”
“You’ll have that and more. I’ll get you books, a tape player, whatever you want. That little TV is just the beginning.” Spade’s thoughts turned to all the things he ever wanted but never dared to dream of–those fleeting desires he suppressed in the face of a life that refused him almost everything. Lovers, riches, power–the things people killed for. “But you gotta trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
The skeptical furrow of Knight’s brow was his only sign of doubt as Spade left the room, letting the door shut with a loud thump.
+++
Spade followed the labyrinthine corridors of X to several dead ends that contained the same maintenance doors long rusted shut, all looking so similar that Spade entirely lost his sense of direction. He couldn’t find his way back to Ashe’s room if he wanted.
The more well-trod parts of the tunnels were illuminated by lights that washed what little color there was–the red carpets placed at random intervals, scuffed by boots and browned by filth, or the signs on the walls with faded letters. Spade found himself following the light and avoiding the shadowy areas where nobody went, feeling he would inevitably encounter someone who could point him in the direction of Crow’s office.
He rounded a corner to find a group of young men. From what he managed to catch of their conversation about targets, contracts, and pay, he guessed them to be contractors. The conversation stopped the moment they noticed him. They peered at him, sizing him up as they took in every detail. From their hostile expressions, it was clear they didn’t like what they saw.
“What do you want?” said a young man with red-rimmed eyes that made him appear both weepy and tired, as if he hadn’t slept for years. Veins lined the pinkish whites of his eyes.
“I’m looking for Crow,” Spade replied.
The young men looked at each other, and the one with tired eyes smirked. “What’s your problem? Can’t find the boss’s office?”
Spade stared him down, not liking the jeering lilt of the young man’s voice. “Are you going to help?”
“Why would I? Fucking pathetic.” The young man’s toothy grin told Spade all he needed to know. Spade was a threat, competition for whatever limited contracts Crow doled out that day, and these contractors weren’t about to help out the clueless new guy. He should have known better than to expect anything else.
A loud knock and a woman’s voice resonated from down the hall. “Crow! I know you’re in there! I hear the TV! Stupid drunk.”
The woman’s voice was distorted from bouncing around the walls of the tunnel, but Spade recognized it immediately as Ashe. He smirked to himself as he pushed past the contractors.
The contractors started speaking to one another with renewed fervor. They forgot all about Spade. “Sounds like Ashe is awake,” one of them said, and they all laughed. “And already screeching at the boss! Wonder how long before Charien shows up?”
Spade followed Ashe’s voice down the twisting path of the tunnel, his walk alternating between light and darkness as the bulbs flickered. When he caught sight of her, she was poised with her leg back, ready to kick the door in front of her.
“Let me in! Fuck!” She breathed in deeply at the sight of Spade, catching her breath. “Hey, you found me. How did you sleep?”
She brushed off her dress, giving Spade a look at her legs. Leaning against the wall, he relished the sight, unable to help but eye her every curve.
For so long, he seemed to blend into the background as the other guys–bigger, stronger, older–grabbed the waists of girls and pressed kisses to their cheeks. Despite having a girlfriend, Dral’s rough hands never failed to capture girls he liked. Spade could only watch, wondering why he couldn’t have the same. Why didn’t the girls even look at him? A whore had propositioned him once, likely thinking he was older than he was, but it didn’t matter. He had no kraks. The girls ignored him, the guys beat the shit out of him. This was his lot in life.
Ashe’s annoyed frown turned into a coy smile. Body slightly bent as she straightened the hem of her dress, she gazed at him from the corner of her eyes, long bangs in her face. “Are you looking at something?”
His cheeks heated up. He struggled to think of a reply that didn’t make him look foolish. “You’re…you don’t look like other girls.” It was true. She was too well-groomed with a body that didn’t suggest starvation.
She stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips, dark red manicure on display. “Who? You mean little orphan girls? So you noticed, huh?”
With a deepening flush, he realized she was flirting with him. He scrambled to conjure a single coherent thought, but words abandoned him. All he could think was that she was beautiful and looking at him with naked interest. Blonde strands of hair fell across her red eye, the one that was so like his own. Another cursed soul.
There was something familiar about her. She carried herself in the frank way that could only come about from a life of hard knocks. She didn’t look at Spade’s bruises with pity and concern the way Knight always did, not when she had so many bruises of her own. But for all they had in common, she might as well have been an alien to him. He had never felt this strange mixture of panic and excitement before in his life.
The previous night he could smell the sultry scent of her perfume on the sheets as he pressed the pillow to his face, hoping Knight wouldn’t notice. This same sweet scent wafted off of her then.
She crossed her arms, focus drawn back to the door of Crow’s office. The muffled sound of the TV could be heard on the other side. “He always does this. It’s annoying.”
Spade had heard the stories about Crow, many so far-fetched they might as well have been legends. The outlaw Crow who seduced a rich girl to give up everything and elope with him. A man who could be so silent that one might mistake him as a mere shadow as he snuck around in the night–that is, until it was too late. Crow the Blackfeather with raven black hair to match, known for carrying a silenced .22 pistol that he shot precisely at the base of the skull near the spine of his targets. They never saw him coming, dropping like flies every time, and Crow would make a clean escape.
Like Charien, Spade doubted the real Crow would live up to the tales. “Another one of those big-deal killers, huh?”
“Crow isn’t a big deal,” Ashe replied. “He’s just an asshole.”
The door opened and Crow stood with his arms folded. “Can you not talk shit while I’m trying to work?”
Ashe rolled her eyes. “Work. Okay.”
Crow exhaled deeply, sounding like something between a scoff and sigh. “What do you want?”
She gestured at Spade with a flourish, presenting him for Crow’s judgment. Spade stood upright, hoping his shoulders might appear broader, but the gaping collar of his oversized shirt revealed his bones. Crow eyed him with furrowed brows, the bags under his eyes stark.
“You one of the contractors?” Crow said. “Fuck, have standards dropped that much?”
“He’s our newest member,” she said, grasping Spade’s shoulder.
Crow massaged his temples, regarding Spade as yet another burden. “You reveal our secrets to everyone, don’t you? You know you shouldn’t bring people here.”
Ashe shrugged. “It’s really not that much of a secret. The only reason nobody messed with us before was because of Jason.” Her voice quaked. “We need people. None of these contractors give a shit. They already have a foot out the door.”
“But this kid?” Crow’s voice was gruff. He coughed, clearing phlegm from his throat. He hadn’t been awake for long. “No way. He’s too skinny. We don’t need him.”
“Give him a chance,” she said.
Spade could feel her fingers tighten on his shoulder. She wasn’t going to back down. He couldn’t believe it. Why would she go this far for him? Why did she care so much? He couldn’t imagine what she wanted from him. He had nothing to give anyone, but she still stuck her neck out for him.
But why? Suspicion gripped him, and he couldn’t let the question go. Her perfume enveloped his senses, the scent now sickly sweet. He had no clue what her intentions were, and this sent his heart racing even more than her body had.
Knight’s words came back to him.
What have you gotten us into?
Spade grit his teeth. Damn it. What did Knight know? Knight was too in his head, too obsessed with long-term worries. Spade knew they didn’t have that luxury. All that mattered was living another day. Eventually the days would add up to something resembling a life, even if Spade died young, as so many people told him he would. But it would be his life, one he fought for.
“I’m not a stupid kid,” Spade said, taken aback by Crow’s insult. “I have experience. I used to run with the Youths as a guts cutter.”
“The Youths,” Crow spit the name. “Another one of those upstart gangs. You harvested guts for them?”
“A lot.” Spade maintained an even tone, but his mind drifted back to the memory of the child he spared. He thought of his own bloodied face. He would never do something so stupid again.
“So, what did they do to you?” Crow motioned generally at Spade’s appearance, still bearing the black-and-blue reminders of the beating. “Did they beat you up?”
Spade clasped his fingers to conceal the shiver that ran up his arm. “Shit happens. I survived. Are you giving me the job, or not?”
Crow groaned. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. No, you can’t join. In fact, we have to kill you, asshole, because in my book, you’re still a Youth.”
A man loped down the hall in their direction, drawing Spade’s attention away from Crow. His bald spot gleamed in the overhead lights, and his tight expression contrasted with his round face. The man stopped in front of Crow. “Boss, I’m gonna be out today. Personal mission. I’ve got a gambling debt to collect.”
Crow waved him off. “Sure. Whatever.”
The man turned to leave, but he paused midstep, noticing Spade for the first time. He scrutinized Spade at an uncomfortably close distance. Just as Spade was about to say something, the man delivered his opinion with a jovial flair. “Man, who got you? You look beat.”
“They won’t get me again,” Spade answered stiffly.
“We’ll see about that.” The man laughed. “My name’s Silas. What’s yours?”
Spade narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”
“Let’s just say I’m a caring fellow,” Silas said. “Hey, it’s all right. Don’t look so glum. Everybody gets got sometimes. Even the best of us.”
Silas reached out to pat Spade’s head, a gesture that caused Spade to snap. “Don’t touch me.” Spade looked at Crow. “Give me a job. You’ll see what I can do. The Youths didn’t kick my ass because I can’t do the work.”
“Then, why?” Crow said. “Why did they beat you?”
“It was…I don’t know. It was personal. The leader never liked me.” Spade’s voice trailed off. He didn’t want Crow to know the actual reason. It would only make him look like a bleeding heart coward who couldn’t handle the job.
“What, did you sleep with his girl?” Crow almost laughed but his expression quickly turned haggard again.
Silas shrugged. “Who cares? It happens all the time. Don’t let it get you down. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had my ass kicked.” He grinned, face seeming even rounder. “You’re looking for work, huh?” He glanced at Crow. “Why doesn’t he come with me? I could use the help.”
Crow withdrew into the privacy of his office, hand lingering on the handle. “Fine. Welcome to X, kid. Now get out of here. And you–” He pointed a finger at Ashe. "Stop bringing your fucking charity cases to my door." The door slammed in their faces, booming through the tunnels.
“You did it!” Ashe threw her arms around Spade and smiled up at him. Pride swelled in his chest. He’d never felt bigger than he did at that moment. His earlier suspicions melted in her embrace.
Silas hurried him along. “C’mon, this isn’t fun time. We gotta get to work. I’m on a tight schedule.”
Ashe disentangled herself from Spade and kissed his cheek. “Good luck out there.”
She disappeared somewhere down the tunnel, leaving Spade to amble behind Silas to whatever “personal business” he had to do.
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