Hope and Red (21 page)

“Getting there,” said Sadie.

“Be nice to Hope here. She just about saved your life today.”

“I'll do my best.”

Red turned to Hope. “Which means she won't try to stab you or rob you. As for the rest, who knows? Just promise me you won't toss her over the side if she offends you, which she probably will.”

Hope smiled slightly. “You have my word.”

Once Red was out of earshot, Sadie turned her bloodshot eyes on Hope. There was not a shred of weakness in her gaze. “Well, now, molly girl, what's your story?”

“My story?” asked Hope, sitting down next to her.

“Everybody's got one. And a pretty little slice like you with such old eyes is sure to have a good one.”

“I told my story once, a long time ago,” said Hope. “I swore I would never tell it again.”

“Ah,” said Sadie.

“I don't mean to be disrespectful. It's just—”

“I don't give a piss about respect. Or much else anymore.” Sadie squinted at Hope. “But I do care about that boy. Under all that balls-and-pricks talk of his, he's got a heart like a rain song. And I don't want no Southie slice stepping all over it. Keen?”

“Oh, I think you misunderstand,” said Hope. “Red and I are…well, friends, perhaps. Although even
that
seems a little premature. Certainly nothing more.”

“That what you think?” Sadie looked at her a moment, then shrugged. “What does an old wrink like me know? Maybe you've got the right of it.”

“I do.”

“Sunny.”

They sat there for a bit, side by side, the wind whistling past as they stared out at the skyline of New Laven.

“Funny thing,” said Sadie. “Red has a story, too. Terrible sad one. He only told it to one person.”

“You, of course,” said Hope.

“How'd you know that?”

“It's obvious. He treasures you more than anything or anyone on this earth.”

“Treasure? Me?” Sadie laughed, but that turned into a nasty wet cough.

“It's true,” said Hope. “When we were underground in that awful place, and he thought he was losing you…” Hope stopped as she recalled the look of pain on his face. A pain she knew all too well. “I didn't want to watch.”

“But you did.”

“I always do.”

Off in the distance came a low rumble of thunder.

“Where's
your
treasure?” asked Sadie.

“Gone,” said Bleak Hope, her voice growing distant. She thought of her parents. Of Hurlo. Of Carmichael. The darkness spread within her like the comfort of an old friend. “I have no treasure now. Only vengeance.”

“On who?” asked Sadie.

“The list has grown long.”

While the fresh air had helped, Sadie was still weak and dangerously ill. Their brief conversation had exhausted her. Hope wrapped her up in blankets like the fish rolls her mother used to make her, then watched as the old woman nodded off.

Hope turned her gaze out over the skyline. As the storm clouds moved closer, she wondered why thoughts of her childhood seemed to be boiling dangerously close to the surface. Was it the feeling of unbalance she'd had since entering Red's world? Or was it his mother figure that made her long for one of her own? Whatever the reason, she didn't like it. She had much to do, and a head lost in the past could not tend to the present.

A short time later, Red returned, carrying a large cast-iron pot filled halfway with water. With him was a boy about their age. He towered over Red, however, easily six and a half feet tall. He had short brown hair that stuck out in all directions and a light shadow of beard. He was carrying a large cord of wood and a thick rough towel.

“This is the wag I was telling you about,” Red said to her. “Filler, meet Hope.”

“Good to meet you,” said Hope.

Filler gave her a shy smile, then set to work arranging the wood for a fire.

“Where's Nettles?” asked Hope.

“I asked her to go back to Gunpowder Hall,” said Red. “Like as not, Drem's men will come looking for us there eventually. I want a lookout in case this is their next stop.”

“Why would it be?” she asked.

“Backus might tell them where we are.”

“But you said he's been helping you take care of Sadie. Why would he do anything to endanger her now?”

“Because that's how it is in the Circle,” said Red. “You do what you can for people when you can, but when the boss calls, you do what you're told.”

“That's wrong,” said Hope.

“Nothing personal. It's how you survive. Only a few people you're willing to cross somebody like Drem for. Me, Filler, and Nettles, and of course Sadie here. That's it.”

“You crossed Drem for
me
,” said Hope.

Red turned away from her, knelt down next to Filler, and began helping him arrange the wood and kindling.

“Anyway,” he said over his shoulder. “I'm sure this isn't the first wrong thing you've seen since you've been hanging around me. Whores, drinking, gambling, and suchlike. Surprised you can even stand to be around street scum like us.”

“There's a difference between cultural values and blatant disloyalty,” said Hope. “While I admit I'm uncomfortable having a conversation with a naked man in a brothel, I would not call him or how he chooses to make a living ‘wrong.' But betraying someone you care about? That is wrong.”

“She talks kinda like you,” Filler said to Red.

“You,” said Red, shaking a finger at him, “are not helping. Now let's focus on getting this fire started.”

Hope watched as Filler took a tinderbox from his pocket and laid some thin shavings of wood over the larger pieces. He then struck a flint, throwing sparks on the shavings.

Red had avoided the question about helping her, which made her even more curious. She felt she knew him well enough by this time to say that he was fiercely loyal to the people close to him. But they were all people he had built relationships with over a long period of time. So why would he include her in that group? Paradise Circle was his whole world, and Drem the most powerful man in it. He had risked so much to help her. Why?

Red and Filler had a nice small fire going. Filler seemed skilled with controlling the fire, probably thanks to his training as a blacksmith. While he set the pot on top to boil, Red moved over to Sadie and gently shook her awake. Her eyes fluttered open in a slight panic, but when she saw him looking down at her, she smiled and laid her thin, boney hand on his cheek.

Hope remembered how Sadie had mistakenly thought that she and Red were…a couple. When Hope had disagreed, she immediately backed off, which seemed out of character for the feisty old woman. What if Sadie was right? After all, she knew Red far better than Hope did. What if the reason Red had risked so much to help Hope was because he…

But that didn't make any sense. He didn't even know her. Not really.

“Water's starting to boil,” said Filler.

“What do we do now?” Red asked.

“Add the medicine,” said Hope. “Have Sadie lean over the pot, then cover her head and the top of the pot with the towel to trap the steam. Sadie should breathe as deeply as possible for a few minutes, or as long as she can take it.”

Red carefully helped Sadie over to the pot. She was still so weak, he had to support her as she leaned in over the steaming pot. After a minute, Sadie began coughing in loud, wet bursts.

“What's happening?” asked Red, looking at Hope with alarm.

“Her body is trying to get rid of the fungus. Move her away from the pot.”

Red tilted her to the side just in time, as a glob of bright-orange-colored mucus hit the wooden floor.

“Piss'ell,” said Filler, his brown eyes wide. “That was inside her?”

“That's not all of it,” said Hope. “She should rest for a bit, but we'll need to do this several times before her lungs are clear.”

“How will we know when it's gone?” asked Red.

“When she isn't spitting orange anymore,” said Hope.

They repeated the process three more times. Each time, Sadie could breathe in the medication a little longer, and there was a little less orange in her phlegm.

By the time they had finished the fourth treatment, the sky was growing dark. As Red laid Sadie down in her blankets to rest and Filler stoked the fire, Hope sat back against one of the wooden support beams and closed her eyes. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the clean air the high tower provided.

“Hey.” Red's voice was right beside her.

She opened her eyes and watched as he leaned back against the same support post so that their shoulders were touching. It felt oddly comforting, so she didn't move away.

“Thank you,” he said. “I think you probably understand how important Sadie is to me. And you've saved her life.”

“I'm glad I could help,” she said. “That I could repay you for helping me escape from Drem's men.”

“You didn't owe me for that,” he said. “I'm glad I did it. I'm…glad I met you.”

“Likewise,” said Hope. “You are…interesting.”

“Interesting?” Red smiled wryly. “I guess I'll take it. Better than being boring, anyway.”

“You are not boring,” she assured him.

“Yeah, I took you on a merry little run, didn't I?”

“Yes. I suppose it was…fun.” She felt guilty admitting that. A Vinchen warrior wasn't motivated by “fun” or thrill seeking. But it was true. It had been fun.

“You probably have serious Vinchen things to get back to after this, I expect,” said Red.

“Oh,” said Hope, her guilt deepening. “Yes. I'm afraid I do.”

“Of course,” said Red. “And, eh…this Vinchen business of yours, it's probably something you have to do alone?”

“It's not something anyone would want to do with me.”

Red turned to her, his ruby eyes flickering in the firelight. “You sure about that?”

Hope stared at him, unsure what to say. Unsure what he meant. In that moment, unsure of just about everything.

“Look bright, wags!” Nettles's voice cracked like a whip from the staircase. “We've got company on the way!”

All three were on their feet by the time Nettles had reached the top step.

“How many?” asked Red.

“Maybe a dozen or so, all armed with revolvers.”

“They're fools to come here,” said Hope as she loosened the Song of Sorrows in its sheath. “We have the high ground. They would have been doomed with twice that number.”

All of Hope's anxiety and confusion evaporated like fog in a sunbeam. This was something she
was
sure about.

18

L
ife hands you a lot of disappointments. And sometimes it gives you things, only to snatch them away from you shortly after. Red knew this. It seemed to him almost as if it was by design, one cruel joke after another. But not this time. He would
not
have Sadie saved from sickness, only to be gunned down by Drem's men.

Still. Twelve boots with revolvers, and no means of escape. He wasn't sure how they were going to come out on the other side of this. Hope
seemed
good from the little Red had seen in the Drowned Rat. Really good. But if he was wrong about her, this whole thing would go leeward real quick.

Red moved Sadie as far from the stairs as possible and wrapped her in blankets so she didn't get a chill. Then he joined Hope, Nettles, and Filler at the top of the stairs. Nettles held her chainblade loosely coiled in her hands. Filler had his short mace. Hope held her sword in her hand, but it was still sheathed. Drem's men were slowly climbing the stairs, revolvers drawn.

“So should we wait until they get to the top, then start knocking them down?” asked Red.

“No,” said Hope. “Too risky to let them get this close to Sadie. We meet them halfway, where the drop is still enough to kill or incapacitate them, but we have room to fall back if necessary.”

“And who put you in charge, angel slice?” asked Nettles.

Hope shrugged. “Fine. Stay here and wait. But you'll miss the fight, because I don't plan to let any of them make it to the top.”

“What—” said Red. But then he watched as Hope, sheathed sword still in hand, dove gracefully over the side and down the center. The men on the stairs were not expecting that. They shouted to each other and fired in wild panic. Hope's drop was carefully angled so that she intersected with one man about halfway down, using him to cushion her impact as she slammed him into the stone wall. Her sword gave an eerie hum as it slid from its sheath. Then she jumped across the gap to the next level of stairs, cutting off the head of one gunman and the arm of another.

“Piss'ell,” said Filler. “She means it.”

Red grinned. “We better get down there and take some for ourselves before it's too late, then. The honor of the Circle is at stake here, my wags.”

The three of them hurried down the steps like normal human beings while Hope zigzagged back and forth across the gap in the middle, never in one place more than a second, never giving them time to aim, much less fire. The grace and control he'd seen hints of ever since he first saw her were now in full expression. She was like a force of nature, savage as a storm and fast as fire. He had hoped she was good, and for the first time he could remember, life not only avoided disappointing; it delivered beyond expectation.

Of course, it
was
twelve of Drem's nastiest boots armed with revolvers, and Hope couldn't avoid them all. But Red was happy to watch her back, tossing blades at the ones out of her reach. They dropped over the edge, clutching at throats, or knees, whichever was more open. And as Hope had predicted, the fall was just enough that no matter where they'd been wounded, they didn't get back up again.

With her impressive acrobatics and her flashing, humming blade, all eyes were on Hope. They didn't see Filler as he came barreling down into the largest cluster of them, laying about him with his mace, knocking several over the edge at once.

“Filler, look out!” called Nettles.

One gunman with a bit of distance had a clear shot on him. Nettles flung out her chainblade. The blade stabbed into the gunman's hand, and he dropped the revolver. She yanked back on her chain, jerking him off balance and over the edge. She stepped on the weighted end of the chain and braced herself. The chain went taut for a moment, then slack, as the blade ripped free from the gunman's hand and he fell to the bottom.

In a very short time, the sound of gunfire faded and only one of Drem's men was alive and conscious. Hope had him pinned down on the stairs at the waist, his arms windmilling as she held the upper half of his body over the edge.

“Please…,” he whimpered.

“Tell me where to find Drem,” she said.

“He's at the Three Cups! He's always there. Everybody knows that!”

“
Where
at the Three Cups?”

“Th-third floor. He has it all to himself and his best wags.”

“Thank you.” Then she slammed the pommel of her sword into his forehead, knocking him out. She pulled him away from the edge, then stood up and surveyed the carnage, her expression unreadable.

“Well, that went well,” said Red. “Thanks for leaving a few for the rest of us.”

A slight smile curled up around the corners of her mouth. “I knew you'd catch up. Eventually.”

“Was that a
joke
from the great and serious Vinchen warrior?” he asked.

Her eyes grew wide, her smile vanished, and he knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing.

“Taking life is never a joking matter,” she said as she wiped the blood off her sword and sheathed it.

“Uh, right, of course,” he said.

“It won't take long for Drem to guess this didn't turn out his way,” said Nettles. “We should get Sadie out of here as soon as she's ready to move. Then we should all disappear until this blows over.”

“Good idea,” said Hope. “You should all stay hidden until this is done. I think it'll get worse before it gets better.”

“Sounds like you don't plan to join us,” said Nettles.

“She's going after Drem,” said Red.

“Ain't nobody
that
crazy,” said Filler.

“He had Captain Carmichael murdered in cold blood,” said Hope. “A man I had sworn to protect with my life. A man who was as much mentor as he was captain. I cannot allow this to stand.”

“I hope you don't expect us to come on this death party with you,” said Nettles.

“Of course not. None of you took an oath.”

“All the same, I'll come along,” said Red.

“Don't be bludgeon,” said Nettles. “Why in hells would you do that?”

“I got many reasons,” said Red. “The most obvious of which is that without my help, Hope hasn't got a chance. And I'd rather the woman who saved Sadie's life have at least a shot of living a bit longer.”

“Red, I appreciate your courage, and your offer,” said Hope. “But I don't think I will be doomed without it.”

“You sure about that?” asked Red. “You heard what that boot just said about where to find Drem. That it's not some secret. We all know where to look. So why do you suppose nobody's ever taken a shot at him?”

“He must be heavily guarded,” said Hope.

“He's got a pissing army,” said Nettles.

“Exactly,” said Red. “Now, your skill is just about the most pat I've ever seen. But even still, there's no way you're getting through a hundred or more well-armed boots on your own.”

“And you think you would turn the tide?” asked Hope.

“Not by myself, no. But I could help you get an army of your own.”

“Such balls and pricks,” said Nettles. “Where are
you
going to get an army?”

“Hammer Point. Big Sig has had a grind with Drem since way back.”

“No,” said Nettles. “That's…You can't…” She shook her head, her mouth open.

“You're taking it outside the Circle,” said Filler.

It was more a statement than a question, but it hung in the air all the same. Nettles and Filler stared at him. Waiting for him to say it. Maybe they didn't believe he could. And until that moment, he wasn't sure he could either. The Circle had taken a lot of things away from him, it was true. But it had also
given
him so much. He was known. He was respected. If he wanted, he could have become one of Drem's lieutenants. Maybe even become as powerful as Drem someday. He felt in his bones that
could
happen for him. Which was why he could not let it.

Maybe Filler was right. Maybe it was his uptown blood that put crazy thoughts in his head. But being the leader of a garbage heap didn't change the fact that he and everybody else still lived in a garbage heap. He wanted better. He wasn't sure why Hope seemed like “better” to him. Her education, her principles, the fact that she'd seen the world outside New Laven. Take your pick. And when she was around, he didn't feel so crazy talking about wanting better. The idea of uniting the neighborhoods seemed like more than just tavern talk. It seemed possible. And that was all he needed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm taking it outside the Circle.”

“Un-pissing-believable,” said Nettles. “Come on, Filler. Let's slide.” Without waiting, she started down the steps. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised, since you weren't actually born in the Circle,” she said over her shoulder, just loud enough to make sure Red heard it.

Filler continued to stare at Red. Good old Filler, game for any crazy adventure that Red could think up. But apparently not this time. After another moment, he shook his head and followed Nettles.

“Red…,” said Hope. “Are you sure—”

“Of course I am. Now let's get Sadie and find somewhere safe for her to lay low.”

He started back up the stairs, and Hope followed quietly behind. When they got to the top, he gently shook Sadie awake.

“Where's Filler and Nettles?” she asked. “They didn't get hurt, did they?”

“No, they're fine,” said Red as he stoked the fire to get the water boiling again.

“Then why do you look about like you're going to get the weeps?”

“I, uh…” He stopped messing with the fire and turned to face her. “I'm leaving the Circle.”

“Hm.” Sadie tilted her head toward Hope. “With her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Red gave her a startled look.

“You should get out of this slimy cunt of a place while you can,” she said. “And this Southie of yours has a better head on than the rest of your wags.”

“But I thought you'd want me to—”

“Be a proper man of the Circle? Piss on that. Proper man of the Circle never got nobody nothing except dead early or old before their time. Rixidenteron, you were made for more and better. And I would take it as a personal insult if you didn't follow on that, after all those years I spent making sure you didn't starve or get knifed. Keen?”

“Sadie…”

“Don't ‘Sadie' me, you needle-pricked salthead. Do you
keen
?”

“Yes, Captain.”

And that was the end of it. They cooked up one more batch of medicine. After a solid minute of breathing, she spit out phlegm with only the faintest tint of orange.

“You're out of danger,” said Hope. “But you'll still need to take it twice a day for the next few days to make sure it doesn't come back.”

“I'm good enough to travel, though?” asked Sadie.

“Yes. If you feel up to it.”

“Let's move, then. Can't imagine it will take Drem long to hear how you diced up his boots with that fancy blade of yours. And next time, he'll send a lot more.”

Sadie was breathing in harsh gasps by the time they got down to the docks. Red had offered to carry her part of the way, but she only glared at him and kept walking. She said she knew a wag near the boatyards who would put her up for a while.

“Missing Finn?” asked Red. “I'm surprised you've kept a line on him.” Since the ship burned down, he'd stayed by the docks, taking honest jobs repairing ships and working the fishing boats.

“I've kept with all of that crew,” said Sadie. “Happiest time of my life, so anyone who reminds me of it, I like to keep close.”

Missing Finn lived in a little shack along the wharf. He was sitting in front of it, threading a fishing pole with new line when they arrived. He looked about as worn and grizzled as Sadie. But when he saw them heading toward him, his one eye lit up and his ragged face folded up into a smile that showed the rot on his few remaining teeth.

“Is that the crown jewel of the Circle I see before me?” he asked, slowly standing up.

“Listen, you old sweet talker.” Sadie scowled at his smile. “You've been begging me to move down wharf-side for years. I need a place to lay low. Maybe for a long time. You sunny with that, or have I got too old and ugly for your interest?”

“I don't know who's been tellin' you lies,” said Finn. “But you ain't old or ugly. Me neither, truth be told. And lucky for you to have such a handsome wag to look at every day while you stay down here hiding from whatever serious badness that's deservedly caught up with you.”

Sadie turned to Red. “Well, he's still a bit bludgeon, but he's got a way with words. And more important, he's safe.”

“You're sure?”

“Course I am. Stop being stupid.”

“Red.” Hope frowned as she scanned the docks, looking for something. “Do you know where Pier Twelve is from here?”