The Dying Light (Bloodwitch #1)

Charlie’s mind was racing. There was a good possibility that he could take on any one of the members of the Pen gang who now stood before him on his own. But with the three of them together, alongside these two capable-looking strangers – and all of them certain to have come heavily armed – he knew he stood no chance.

‘What are you doing here?’ June demanded. ‘How did you get in?’

Faulkner considered her with a lazy look, as Marko turned the beam of his torch in her direction. ‘Don’t waste my time with questions you already know the answers to, old woman.’

‘Get out of my house,’ she said, drawing herself up to her full height, ‘at once.’

‘All in good time.’ His voice measured, Faulkner ran his hands over his knuckles. ‘Now, I can see you certainly have a …’ He ducked under an exposed beam in the roof as he stalked towards Charlie and the children, gingerly testing the floorboards with his weight as he went. ‘Yes, you have a fine establishment here. But it’s strange … you don’t seem to have troubled yourselves with protecting it particularly well. Isn’t that right, Mikhail?’

Without hesitation, Mikhail lashed out at the wooden table with his boot, turning it over and sending the chairs crashing to the ground. One of the boys started to cry. Charlie had balled his hands into fists to try to stop himself from shaking. His head was full of half-crazed ideas about what he should do next, each more useless than the last.

He caught sight of the two soldiers, still standing back from the fray. Both of them were watching him closely. One of them, dark-haired and sombre, seemed to almost be looking straight through him, as though barely even aware of the scene unfolding in the basement. The other soldier’s hard face held something cruel, and the glint in his cold eyes convinced Charlie that this was someone to be wary of.

Faulkner had come to a halt with his face so close to Charlie’s that when Faulkner tipped his head down they were almost nose-to-nose. ‘You don’t know why we’re here?’ he said, his voice soft and dangerous. ‘The money, you old crone.’ His face snapped towards June. ’The money I lent to you. The money you swore to repay me. The money I still do not have.’ The scarred part of his mouth was curled into a sneer. ‘Where is it?’

The colour had left June’s face. She opened her mouth to speak. ‘I –’

‘I don’t have it,’ Charlie said, keeping his voice low and his eyes fixed on the floor.

‘You don’t have it,’ Faulkner repeated softly, his gaze boring into Charlie as he reached into his suit jacket. ‘I see. No odd jobs come your way recently, Charlie? Well, in that case …’

‘You can see we have nothing, Faulkner,’ June said, indicating the sad-looking basement around them. ‘If we had the money, we would give it to you. You know how hard this last winter was. The children were sick. We had nothing to keep them warm. We needed food and medicine.’

Faulkner rubbed his stubbled chin with a shake of his head. ‘You realise I’m not running a charity here, don’t you, Granny?’

June’s voice wavered, and she blinked furiously behind her broken glasses. ‘The foreman knows that Charlie is a good worker,’ she said. ‘He will be paid again soon, and then we can start repaying the money we owe you. I swear to you, you will get your money as soon as we have it …’

Faulkner considered Charlie carefully. From his pocket, he withdrew a silver cigar case. He handed it to Charlie, who opened it wordlessly, holding it out for him to choose one. A smile playing around Faulkner’s mouth, the cigar between his teeth, he crouched down. Taking a silver lighter from the pocket of his jacket, he offered it to Ruby.

‘I need your assistance, my little beauty. Would you do me the honour?’

Charlie felt himself trembling with fury as Ruby tentatively flicked the lighter and held the flame up to the end of the cigar. Faulkner trailed a finger along Ruby’s jaw and straightened up. Charlie could feel her burying her face in the back of his leg.

‘Don’t touch her,’ he breathed.

Faulkner appeared to be deep in thought as he took a long drag on his cigar and breathed the smoke out into Charlie’s face. ‘If it’s the kids that are the problem, Charlie, there are other ways we can settle this.’ From his other pocket, Faulkner withdrew a small notebook and an ink pen. ‘The girl, for instance, would be worth enough to my associates in Elysia for me to consider your debt settled. In fact,’ he checked his figures, and cast Charlie an evil grin, ‘you’d be in credit.’

‘You should be ashamed of yourselves.’ June seemed caught between horror and disgust. ‘We are all Penumbrans, aren’t we? How can you speak of such a thing?’

‘We all know the penalty for harbouring witches,’ Faulkner murmured, and the soldiers behind him stirred. ‘I heard some troubling rumours … a young girl, perhaps her age … living somewhere around here, perhaps in this very house …’ Faulkner’s grin widened at Charlie’s expression. ‘You may be my friend, Charlie, but I had to do the right thing. I had to inform the Hunters. We cannot allow the safety of our families to be threatened, now, can we?’

‘You monster!’ June shrieked at Faulkner. ‘What rumours? Why are you doing this?’

There was a ringing in Charlie’s ears again. Ruby was hanging onto his leg so tightly he thought she might never let go. His teeth gritted, he stepped firmly in front of the children, meeting Faulkner’s eyes. Whatever happened next, he would not run away.

‘Charlie, I’m losing my patience,’ Faulkner said. His voice was calm, but his eyes flashed with simmering fury. The cruel-faced soldier had sloped towards them, followed immediately by his serious-looking partner. Faulkner lowered his voice so that only Charlie could hear his next words. ‘We all have our skills. If you really want to help your family, you should go back to doing what you do best.’

‘Go to hell.’

‘Your old bedroom is still waiting for you, exactly as you left it,’ Faulkner said, brushing his hand through Charlie’s hair. ‘I know the boys will be more than happy to throw you a welcome party. You didn’t think you could hide from what you are forever, did you?’

‘I’m never going back,’ Charlie whispered, frozen beneath Faulkner’s touch.

‘Think about it, Carroway.’ Mikhail’s voice was clipped with impatience. ‘Is all this trouble worth it? And you two!’ He pointed at Leo and Dima. ‘I’m still waiting to hear your answer. If you really want to help your Uncle Charlie, you know where to find us.’

Charlie threw a confused glance at the boys, who looked miserable and frightened.

‘I’m not leaving empty-handed, Charlie,’ Faulkner warned softly. ‘I promised my new friend here that there would be a reward in it for him. He will not be satisfied otherwise.’

Charlie caught sight of the hungry look on the face of the cold-eyed soldier standing beside Faulkner. He knew what he had to do. Without a word, Charlie gathered Ruby up into his arms and motioned for Leo and Dima to follow him into the kitchen. The boys held onto either side of June’s stained dress, its colour faded from years of wear, while Charlie passed Ruby to her. Then he turned to face Faulkner, standing between the Pen gang and his family.

‘Stay here,’ he told them. ‘I’ll handle this.’

Something like surprise flickered for a moment in the depths of Faulkner’s eyes, before he let out a bellowed laugh. ‘Charlie Carroway, always playing the hero. Boys, you know what to do.’

His henchmen moved as one. Marko and Mikhail each took hold of one of Charlie’s arms, their hands on his shoulders, trapping him between them. Though he tried to stifle it, Charlie could not prevent the strangled yelp of pain that escaped from him as Marko put the pressure of all his strength on Charlie’s old injury. The children were screaming and crying. June was trying to stop them from running after him. The Pen boys did not pay any of them a moment’s attention.

The sombre-faced soldier left first, leading the way silently up the stairs. Faulkner went next, the smoke from his cigar wafting into Charlie’s face as he, Mikhail and Marko followed behind. The cruel-faced soldier brought up the rear. Charlie was sure he heard the sound of wooden furniture being smashed before the soldier’s heavy footsteps caught up with them. He tried to crane his neck back to see if June and the children were safe, but Mikhail slammed the palm of his hand into the back of Charlie’s head, and his eyes returned to his feet.

Charlie was almost dragged down the hallway, his toes brushing the floorboards due to the height of his captors. They passed the front door, left wide open and hanging off its hinges, and moved out into the night. From over his shoulder, he saw that the serious-looking soldier had walked off alone in the opposite direction. Charlie felt a strange kind of satisfaction at the sight. He guessed the soldier did not have the stomach for what was going to happen next.

They marched on in silence down the deserted streets. Soon, the network of low-lying shacks began to disappear and grow into the jungle of slums that made up the larger part of the Karbher Quarter. They had brought him to the Spike, the centre of the city.

Charlie recognised the Ration Station standing closed for the night, its doors sealed with heavy chains. It looked eerily deserted without the crowds that usually surrounded it. From his portrait above the door to the Station, the pitiless eyes of the Great Protector seemed to have a way of finding him in the dark to bear witness to the scene. The lack of emotion in his haughty face was oddly comforting.

Only now did Marko and Mikhail release him. They pushed Charlie back against the wall with such force that the back of his head slammed into the brickwork. The number of stars in the sky above him doubled. Before he had time to react, a flurry of punches had been landed to his stomach and ribs, and he was knocked to the ground. Groaning, Charlie rose to his feet, leaning against the wall to let it take his weight.

The silent slums towered above him on all sides of the square. Cascades of faceless windows and washing lines strung between buildings loomed out of the darkness. The Pen boys had backed off, watching him closely. Charlie felt suddenly lightheaded. To his dismay, he realised that he was still shaking, but no longer with anger.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ He forced his voice to stay steady. ‘I won’t try to stop you.’

‘You’re not playing by the rules, Charlie.’ Faulkner sounded amused. ‘I told you before you left our organisation that I could offer you much better terms than your foreman at the mine. It’s easier work, too – even you would have to admit it.’

Charlie spat out blood and stared up at Faulkner. ‘I told you, I’m done with all of that.’

’You can’t tell me you actually want to spend the rest of your life slaving away underground, digging up rocks to decorate rich Elysian whores?’ Faulkner’s voice was mild as he readjusted his rings. ‘All for, what, a life spent chained to slum rats?’

‘I’d rather be chained to them than to you!’

Rage coursing through him once more, Charlie lunged at Faulkner. But he was caught around the neck by the cruel-faced soldier, who forced him to the ground with a knee to the stomach.

‘Try that again, you worthless piece of filth,’ the soldier murmured. ‘I dare you.’

Curled up on the ground and fighting to catch his breath, Charlie froze as he heard Faulkner’s soft voice in his ear. ‘Now you’re playing the game, Charlie. Make it fun for my boys – they’ve earned it. I know you remember how. And I’m still waiting for my money – don’t forget it. You keep holding out on us and we’ll make sure it’s the kids who pay for it next time.’

Someone grabbed him under the arm, wrenched him to his feet, shoved him roughly back against the wall again. They had formed a tight semicircle around him and were slowly advancing on him from all sides, like a pack of stray dogs at the end of a hunt.

‘You can’t fight us all, kid,’ Mikhail said. ‘Don’t think we’ll go easy on you.’

‘You think I’m scared of you?’ Charlie snarled. ‘Get on with it, you fucking cowards.’

His breathing shallow and rapid, Charlie wiped the blood out of his eyes and braced himself. He gritted his teeth as a fist came swinging towards his face. The pain consumed him almost instantly. He was lost to the darkness, hands swarming across his body. The last words he heard before he lost consciousness were spoken by a deep voice that he did not recognise.

‘That’s enough, all of you. Leave him to me.’

*

The next time Charlie opened his eyes, he was on his own, lying on his side underneath a tarpaulin. His memory of how it had got there was hazy. He guessed that he must have pulled it over himself at some point during the night to use as a makeshift blanket.

It was not yet sunrise. He did not know how much time had passed, or how long he had been lying in the street. Grimacing against the pain lashing through his body as he moved, he forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady beneath him.

The taste of copper was on his tongue, and he spat out blood. There was more of it crusting under his nose and around his mouth. He cradled his head in his hands, a low moan escaping from him as a burst of agony lanced through his skull. His eyelid was swelling beneath his fingers. Tears burnt behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

The kids.

They would be waiting for him at home. He would not let them see him like this.

‘Saints’ mercy,’ June whispered when she saw him. ‘What did they do to you?’

She was standing at the threshold to their home. The front door was back on its hinges.

‘You didn’t have to fix that.’ Charlie winced as he spoke. It was painful to talk. ‘I would have done it.’

He could sense the old woman’s eyes watching him closely as he struggled along the hallway. He was breathing heavily, and had to lean against the wall for support. His legs felt as though they were about to give way. The searing ache in his head was still just as fierce as before.

June said nothing until they reached the top of the flight of stairs that led down to their rooms. Charlie paused, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him. Everything around him seemed to be swaying. Then he became aware of June gently draping his arm over her shoulders. He felt her arm around his waist supporting him as they descended the stairs.

‘I won’t have you breaking your neck and waking up the children,’ she said, and Charlie thought he saw the ghost of a smile playing around her mouth. ‘Besides, we can’t afford to fix the damage.’

Caught between a laugh and a hiss of pain, Charlie inhaled sharply. He made his way unsteadily to the window, and rested against the sill, breathing deeply through the ache in his side. The frosty night air was soothing after the effort of walking for so long.

June had laid out his blanket on the floor, in the space between the bed and the wall. The kids were all lying beneath a blanket of their own, in the narrow bed that they shared with June. Their eyes were closed, their breathing steady, but Charlie did not believe for a moment that they were asleep.

‘I’m back,’ he said, ‘so you can all stop pretending.’

The three children sat up at once, staring at Charlie with wide, frightened eyes.

‘What happened?’ Dima asked.

‘I fell down the stairs.’

‘But they –’

‘I have a question for you two, as well,’ Charlie said, his voice sharp. ‘Mikhail said he was still waiting for your answer. What did he mean by that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dima said in a small voice.

‘I’m telling you now, Dima,’ Charlie warned, his teeth gritted against the pain, ‘if you don’t start talking –’

‘They want us to go gloaming for them,’ Leo piped up, after throwing an apologetic glance at his brother. ‘Mikhail told Dima to tell me and Ruby that they want us to join the Pen gang.’

‘They said because we’re small, we won’t get into trouble even if we do get caught,’ Ruby added, nodding. ‘They said the soldiers won’t even suspect us because we’re kids.’

‘They said if we wanted to help you, it was the right thing to do,’ Dima finished, his voice barely audible. ‘We just wanted to help. They said we’d make you happy if we did it.’

Charlie dragged his fingers through his blood-soaked hair and sighed. He looked at the three children, still staring at him with concern. He felt immensely tired. He had tried his best to protect them from this. It had not been enough.

‘The best way you can help Charlie is to work hard on your reading and your numbers,’ June said firmly, easing the children back down to sleep and pulling the blankets back over them. ‘That way, you’ll be ready for school when Charlie gets us all out of this place.’

At her words, Charlie swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes fiercely. The children shared excited whispers amongst themselves for a few minutes, until, exhausted, their eyes gradually began to close. Charlie drank in their sleeping faces, feeling oddly separate from himself.

‘If Faulkner thinks he’s getting his filthy hands on these kids …’

June turned to him with a stern expression, like he was one of the children. ‘Don’t you go looking for trouble, Charlie.’

‘I didn’t,’ Charlie said, his jaw clenched. ‘It’s found me. You heard what Faulkner said about Ruby. They’ve got a score to settle with me, and this is how they plan to do it – by threatening the kids. You know what he’ll do to them if the Pen gets hold of them. I won’t let that happen.’

June shook her head with a heavy sigh. ‘Something like this was bound to happen eventually. Saints know how life goes for kids like this in Penumbra. But those Hunters …’

‘They’re not interested in Ruby, they just wanted some action,’ Charlie said darkly, wincing as he touched the wound at his head. ‘It’s the Pen boys we should be worrying about.’

‘What do you imagine you can do? If Faulkner wants them, then –’

‘Not these kids,’ Charlie said, venom in his every word. ‘Not while I’m around.’