Mole grinned as he raised the knife, preparing to plunge it down. Sparks looked away, to the side. There. Lying on the floor, just outside the cage, was a crossbow bolt.
In one mad, frantic motion, Sparks reached out, grabbed the bolt and plunged it into Mole’s leg.
He ripped the bolt out and stabbed again, then a third time. Blood spurted over him. Mole fell, screaming and clutching wildly at the wound. Sparks tried to pull the bolt out again, but the arrowhead caught in the muscle, stuck.
He rolled onto Mole, ripped the knife out of his hand, and thrust it into Mole’s now open palm, pushing through the bone. Sparks let go when the blade was firmly lodged in the floor.
“I’m—” Sparks punched Mole in the jaw.
“—Not—” He hit him again.
“—A—” He aimed for the nose this time.
“—Traitor!”
He ran his hand across his arm, scooping up blood, then smeared it over Mole’s face.
I could kill him, Sparks thought. He deserves it. But instead, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away. He had won. That was enough.
The crowd fell silent. The only sound left was Mole’s howls of pain.
Sparks slowly raised one fist, claiming his victory. The gesture felt hollow. His chest didn’t thrum with the usual pleasure of winning. He just felt relieved. And angry.
Behind the bars stood the thug Sparks had first talked to, the one with the crossbow. He looked at Sparks with wide eyes, then to the bolt in Mole’s leg. His mouth hung open.
“I think you dropped something,” Sparks said.
Caleb appeared behind the thug. He winked at Sparks as he mouthed, You’re welcome.
08
The crowd began to file down the bleachers, some eager to collect their winnings, some to forget their losses with a drink. Roman pushed his way through them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw One-ear following.
“We’ll split up,” Roman told Ruby. “Go get a fix on where Gavin’s going. I’ll lose our unsightly friend.”
“You assume he won’t follow me? I’m the far more attractive of the two of us, after all.”
“You underestimate my rough charm.”
Roman changed direction and headed for the corner of the hall, where a handful of Gavin’s accountants were swamped with gamblers exchanging betting tokens for credits. Purposely, Roman brushed shoulders with a short man he passed, who cursed at him. Roman spun briefly to raise his middle finger at the man’s back.
Tan had taught Roman this technique for getting a quick glance behind you without a tail realizing you’re aware of him. He easily spotted One-ear through the tangle of people, barely two steps behind him.
One-ear’s proximity made it impossible for Roman to simply lose him in the crowd. So Roman considered less conventional methods. He sized up the man in front of him: tall, shaved head, well-muscled arms. Perfect. Roman spied the bulge of a coin purse in the back pocket of the man’s baggy trousers. The tip of the bag was even protruding from the pocket. It practically begged to be stolen.
Roman pick-pocketed the purse but made sure he was clumsy enough for his theft to be noticed, then he spun mid-step, bringing himself face-to-face with One-ear.
“Catch.”
He tossed the purse. One-ear caught it on instinct, his thick-set face curled up in confusion. Roman darted to the side, ducking low and vanishing into the crowd.
“Hey, thief!” The bald man’s shout carried across the crowd. No doubt he had just turned around to find One-ear holding his wallet.
Roman grinned when he heard the distinctive thump of fist against flesh — obviously, the bald man had decided to punch first, ask questions later.
Now One-ear was out of the equation.
Ruby was waiting for Roman at the exit. She stood on tiptoes to watch the commotion Roman had caused. “As ever, you are a master of subtlety.”
“You can’t argue with results,” Roman responded as he followed the flow of people out into the evening air.
The last hints of sunlight were fading. Thick shadows stretched out underneath the square grey buildings that formed the Haven. The crowd moved across the concrete courtyard, with several of Gavin’s men watching from its edges – the Haven was open to anyone during a pit fight, but most of its grounds were always off-limits.
“He went this way.” Ruby pulled Roman out of the throng and along the wall. The floodlights directed at the courtyard weren’t turned on yet, leaving them plenty of shadows to move in.
No one called out to them. They ducked around the corner of the hall and out of sight.
“Over there.” Ruby motioned towards three dark figures disappearing into a tight gap between two buildings, a hundred yards away.
“You suspect this may be a trap for us?” Ruby asked as they sprinted in pursuit.
Roman shook his head. “If Gavin wanted to trap us, he wouldn’t need to use a ruse. He could have killed us the moment we entered the Haven.”
The floodlights burst into life. Blinded, Roman shielded his eyes from the brightness. He hoped like hell that no one was watching the square.
“There goes our cover,” he said.
The lights flickered, then died.
Ruby grinned. “You were saying?”
“Shut up.”
They slipped into the shadows of the far building, creeping along its wall to reach the entrance of the alley Gavin had vanished in. Roman peeked around the corner. The passage ran for at least eighty yards. The buildings on either side were tall enough to hide the alley in darkness. Gavin and his two men were nearly through, only visible as black silhouettes. Roman and Ruby followed.
The exit of the alley might as well have been the same the entrance, for all the difference in scenery. More plain, grey, dull buildings — more like cubed stones than something you could live in. The Ancients didn’t build this place for aesthetics, that was for sure. Gavin was already disappearing into the mouth of a different alley.
They followed him and his thugs through half the compound, maintaining a safe distance and sticking to shadows where they could. Thankfully, Gavin never looked back. Roman stifled a curse when the floodlights burst into life again. This time, they remained stubbornly on.
The Ministry of Science’s explanation for the power cuts was faulty generators. It didn’t surprise Roman; after all, everything else in the city was faulty. When he worked at the ministry he had asked about it, but everyone either knew nothing or told him it was classified. Even amongst themselves, the ministries weren’t known for sharing knowledge.
Roman paused at a corner, peeking around to make sure the way was safe. He quickly pulled back when he saw it wasn’t.
“Well,” he said, “now we know where most of Gavin’s men are.”
Ruby frowned. “Shall we be running right now?”
“Not yet.” Roman took another look.
A mob of at least fifty men approached from across a large yard, red rags around their forearms. Gavin stood between them and Roman, arms crossed, waiting for his men.
Roman needed a better view. He withdrew from the corner and clamoured up the wall, using the bars over a window for handholds, then footholds, as he pulled himself to the roof. He helped pull Ruby up behind him, then they lay prone and watched the scene below.
When the thugs reached Gavin, most shuffled aside to make room for two men dragging a limp body. They dumped the man at Gavin’s feet.
Roman focused on the captive. Blood trickled from his nose, mouth, and forehead. His jet-black hair probably would have reached his waist if he stood. It was matted with blood. Gavin kicked him in the gut, and again, and spat in his face. The thugs cheered as the beating continued.