He stared at the floor for a moment,
considering my words, then jerked his head in an awkward nod. “I
hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes. I guess that’s what I’d
hoped.”
I held my hand out to him, wanting to pull him
into the light. He came, but so reluctantly that I ended up meeting
him halfway. I rested my hand against his cheek. “I am your friend,
no matter what,” I told him. “You know that.”
He put his fingers over mine and leaned into
my touch. “It’s not the same as having you here.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s almost a relief too. You were
the only person I could imagine giving myself to, but even then, I
feared I’d end up resenting you for it.”
He looked so old in that moment, and more
vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. It was easy to imagine the
scared street kid he’d once been. I pulled him into my arms and
held him, fuming at the unfairness of Davlova. I hated that Lalo
had been forced into prostitution as a child. I hated the men who’d
paid to abuse him. I even hated Talia, although he’d once told me
she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. “You deserve
something far better than that.”
He settled against me, his head resting on my
shoulder. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m finally free, and
instead of being a whore, I become the master of whores. I never
wanted this life, and now I’ve become the person who forces it on
others.” He shuddered. “I’ve become one of
them
.”
“No. If you were one of them, you’d have tried
to put Ayo to work for you, but you didn’t. Even after you found
out what he is: a product of the Dollhouse, the epitome of sexual
indulgence. You could charge ten times what you do for the others.
Yet it never even crossed your mind, did it? You only wanted to
protect him.”
He pulled back, not out of my arms, but enough
that I could see the shock and wonder in his eyes. “You’re right. I
hadn’t thought of that at all.” He laughed softly. “I may be good
at managing the books, but I really am a terrible at keeping
whores, aren’t I?”
“Maybe. But you’re a good person, and I think
that’s far more important.”
“Thank you.” There was still grief in his
eyes, but there was relief as well. “You know what I miss
most?”
“What?”
“Having somebody to play chess
with.
“I’m happy to play with you whenever you ask.
I miss it too.”
He sighed sadly, pulling away from me a bit
more, shaking his head. “I don’t have time. This place…it takes
every second of my day.” There was a note of resentment in his
voice. Something that spoke of defeat.
“Do you hate it so much?”
He tilted his head, considering. “I suppose I
do.”
“Then why not leave?”
He laughed without much humor. “And do what?
Go back to being a whore?”
I didn’t have an answer for him, but I knew
one thing — he didn’t belong here. Staying would crush what
remained of his spirit, and I couldn’t bear to see that happen. Not
after everything he’d done for me. “I’ll find you something
else.”
This time, his laugh was genuine and full of
surprise. “Oh really? Doing what, picking pockets?”
“No.” The truth was, I had no idea, but I knew
I had to help, just as I’d known the first time I’d met Ayo that I
had to save him from Donato. Lalo deserved to be happy. He deserved
a life that didn’t make him feel ashamed. I took his hand and held
it between my own. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s my problem, not yours.
And you have bigger things to worry about.”
But what could be more important than helping
my friend? Ayo came first, yes. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t
help Lalo too. “I’ll figure something out.”
He shook his head in disbelief, smiling at me
fondly. “The amazing thing is, I think you mean that.” He stepped
close and kissed me before I could respond, his lips lingering
sweetly over mine. Not the passionate kiss of a lover. This was
something gentle and sweet. “Don’t worry about me, Misha. I’ll be
fine. But thank you for being my friend.”
***
My mind was reeling as I returned to Ceil’s
inn with the box of meager possessions I’d retrieved from the
whorehouse. The theatre and the clan were mine if I chose to claim
them, but was that truly what I wanted to do? I couldn’t imagine
leading Ayo into a life of crime, and yet what other life did I
know? And how could I face Anzhéla, the woman who’d saved me more
times than I could count, and tell her I no longer wished to be in
her employ? It felt like a horrible betrayal.
My thoughts strayed to the hill. Somewhere up
there lay the wrecked remnants of Donato’s house. Under the icebox
was a safe, and I had the combination. I had no idea how much money
it contained, but Donato had begged me to take it. It was possible
some looter had already found it, but it was also possible it was
still there, waiting for me to claim it. At the moment, I didn’t
need it. I had enough to get by for a while, and part of me wanted
to believe I’d never need Donato’s money all, but I knew better.
I’d grown up on the streets, after all. I was too used to having
nothing at all to turn down something that had been given to me
outright. Besides, if I didn’t claim it, one of two things would
happen: either somebody else would find it and steal it or it’d
never be found and would stay in Donato’s hidden safe, moldering
for an eternity.
Why let either of those things happen when all
I had to do was take a trip up the hill?
Not today though. My errands had already taken
longer than I’d planned.
I reached the plaza and was surprised to find
it bustling with activity. Still nothing like it had been before
the revolution, but busier than I’d seen it since my return. People
milled about, shopping a bit, but mostly, they seemed to be waiting
for the March of the Priestesses to begin.
By the time I reached the inn, my meagre box
of possessions felt downright heavy. I was happy to finally set it
down in our room. Since leaving Davlova, I’d had only the clothes
I’d been wearing the night of the fire, and the set of clothing
Rhianne had bought me. Now, I could finally shed the last remnants
of our time in Deliphine. I washed up and sighed in relief as I
slipped into a clean change of clothes. Such a simple action, but
it refreshed me. I felt like a new man when I went back down the
stairs.
Ceil and Ayo had dragged one of the inn’s
small tables to the sidewalk and spread their turnovers across it.
Ceil handled the money, while Ayo chatted with the customers. I was
surprised at how easily he fell into his role. He looked almost as
happy as he had on the yacht, his eyes shining as he smiled at
everybody who passed.
“How’s business?” I asked from the
doorway.
“It’s great!” Ayo told me. “We’ve sold almost
half of them so far!”
Ceil was less impressed by their sales, but
clearly amused by Ayo’s enthusiasm. “Too many people without a cent
to spend on turnovers,” she told me. “But those with the coin are
happy enough to buy something other than fried fish or stewed
pigeon.”
Two more customers came up, and I stood back,
leaning against the frame of the open door of the inn to watch.
Most of the people in the plaza were drifting north, toward the
Boulevard and the gate. Clan kids flitted in and out of the crowd,
working, but undoubtedly finding the pickings slim. Beggars
wandered aimlessly, their hats in their hands, their eyes dark and
desperate. Whores lingered on the periphery of the crowd, alert for
potential customers.
A few doors down from the Spotted Goose, Uri
stood outside the door of his tavern, arguing quietly with Tino.
Tino was pointing into the tavern, and Uri shook his head. He
turned away with a disgusted wave of his hands and went back
inside. Tino turned north, toward us. His eyes fell on Ceil and
Ayo’s table of pastries and he moved purposefully up the sidewalk,
his two goons flanking him. A small group of less intimidating
supporters followed behind.
The few customers left at Ceil’s table of
pastries saw them coming and backed away, making room for him, but
staying close, probably hoping for a bit of entertainment. Tino
stopped in front of Ceil’s makeshift booth, feet planted wide and
scarred hands on his hips.
“What’s this, then?” he asked. “Since when do
you sell pastries?”
“Since I had a mind to,” Ceil
snapped.
Tino and the bigger of his two goons scowled.
I guessed them both to be mid-thirties. The second goon was
younger, about my age. He seemed nervous and unsure of his role,
glancing back and forth between Tino and Ceil. The rest of Tino’s
gang — four in all, three snarling teenagers and one wrinkled, gray
veteran — spread out behind them. They looked like exactly what
they were — a bunch of street thugs — and I was inordinately
pleased to be back in clean, well-tailored clothes. A few steps
behind Tino’s men, the would-be customers and blatant onlookers
formed a watchful half-moon around us. I noticed the young whore
from the south end of the plaza among them. Whoever had been hiding
behind her during Tino’s speech didn’t appear to be with her
now.
Tino eyed me warily before turning to Ceil and
hooking his thumb in Ayo’s direction. “Who’s your
helper?”
“That’s no business of yours,” Ceil
said.
Tino stared at Ayo, studying his pale skin and
blond hair, neither of which was common in Davlova. “I can tell he
ain’t from around here. I hope for your sake he’s not a freed
slave.”
I pushed away from the doorframe, squaring my
shoulders, drawing his attention before he saw the way Ayo flinched
at his words. “He’s not a slave. And before you ask, neither am
I.”
“Then you won’t object to showing us your
shoulder.”
I debated arguing for half a second, but if I
did, there was always a chance they’d force the issue. For myself,
it hardly mattered. They’d find no tattoos on me, and they might
get a knife in the ribs for their trouble. But if they moved on Ayo
first and managed to see his Dollhouse tattoo…
It was a possibility I didn’t want to dwell
on.
I pulled the collar of my shirt aside to
reveal the untattooed skin below my right collarbone. I glanced
toward Ayo, and was relieved when he followed my lead, revealing a
clean shoulder while still hiding the Dollhouse’s marks.
“See?” I said to Tino. “Not
slaves.”
“Drifters from overseas, then?” Tino said,
turning back to Ceil. “You’re hiring foreigners when there’s
hard-working Davlova men who can’t find pay?”
“I don’t see you or your men workin’ hard at
all,” Ceil snapped, drawing a few snickers from the crowd. “Just
harassin’ old ladies.”
“And we’re not foreigners,” I added. “I’ve
lived in Davlova my whole life.”
“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms
across his chest. “Then why you rentin’ a room here?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Ha! Let me guess. Spoiled son of some rich
pig from the second quadrant, down here slumming for the
day?”
That amused me. It was the first time in my
life I’d been mistaken for an upper-middle class citizen of the
second quadrant. “Hardly. I grew up in the trenches.”
He rocked back on his heels, his cocky smile
wavering a bit. “You don’t talk like you’re from the
trenches.”
No, because Anzhéla had never let us talk like
street rats, even if that’s what we were. “Maybe not, but I’m
telling you the truth. I grew up in the fourth
quadrant.”
“I don’t know as I believe you. I sure don’t
remember seeing you around before yesterday.” He cocked his head
back toward the bigger of the goons. “Jemal, you remember seeing
this guy around before now?”
“Nope.”
“You may not remember me,” I said to Tino,
“but I remember you. You ran a clan out of the southwest side of
the fourth quadrant. Sloppy clan too. Always getting pinched by
Benedict’s guards because you never bothered to train them right.
You ran a two-bit fighting ring for a while too, until the brawlers
all caught on to you skimming off their winnings. You were lucky to
get out of that one alive. And I remember when you had a run-in
with Anzhéla and Frey. Frey beat you down good, right in the middle
of Parkwood Lane. Broke your nose and a few ribs too, if my guess
is right. Told you if you stepped another foot inside our turf,
he’d make you a eunuch.” I glanced pointedly toward his groin.
“Looks to me like he may have followed through.”
A few of the onlookers guffawed. Jemal seemed
halfway amused. The younger goon seemed surprised. He and the rest
of Tino’s thugs glanced toward their boss, as if hoping he’d deny
it. But of course, Tino couldn’t deny it. Not only that, I knew by
the flush of his cheeks that he’d caught my point. I may not have
taken over the den, but I wasn’t above throwing Anzhéla’s weight
around when it suited me. I’d intentionally said “our turf” instead
of “their turf,” letting him know where my loyalties lay, and I was
glad to see it gave him pause.
“So,” Ceil said when it became clear Tino had
no ready reply. “Now you know I’ve done nothing wrong, you can move
along. Stop scaring away my customers.”