The boy looks up again. This time, he doesn’t look away.
‘That’s how I hooked up with the old man,’ Care explains. ‘He came looking for AD one day when you were – when you were still searching for your mom. Said he wanted someone to do some work for him, you know, like he used to. AD laughed him off, though. He told the old man that he had better prospects these days. Better coin and more fun, too. The old man wasn’t happy about that.’ She’s talking to herself now, but I can see it. Her mentor recoiling on his dignity. ‘I tagged after him.’ The ghost of a smile plays around her lips. ‘I mean, I had you to look after.’
It’s the wrong phrase. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘Sure you can.’ Care keeps turning the ticket over in her fingers, further obscuring any useful information. I huddle back in the doorway. I’d like to keep my eye on this girl, but the rain is not letting up. ‘Hey, Tick,’ she says after a few minutes have gone by. ‘What say we go over to Diamond Jim’s and you show me what’s what?’
‘Care, I don’t want to.’ His voice is winding up as if tears are on the way.
‘I said, I’m not sending you back. I just want to look around on the sly, like. See what we can see, you know?’ She grins and the boy grins back. He looks younger with a smile on his face – they both do – though I imagine she is fully aware of the risk she is running. I remember too well the bite of the accelerant. I remember, as well, the silhouettes of my dream. Still, I cannot let this girl face this danger alone.
Brushing her wet hair off her face, she stands and holds her hand out to the boy. I stand too, shaking off the water that has beaded on my guard hairs.
The two humans turn at the movement. ‘I don’t know what to do with him.’ Doubt pinches her face.
‘He probably thinks we’re going to get food.’ The boy knows better than to reach for me, but when he bends for a rock, she takes his hand.
‘Tick, no.’ She pulls him back.
‘He’s just some ratty alley cat.’ There’s a sharpness to his voice – a nastiness assumed to hide his fear. ‘Besides, he hates me.’
‘He’s with me, Tick.’ She reaches for his shoulder. Pulls him around to face her. ‘You don’t hurt animals. You don’t hurt anything weaker than you are.’ He tries to pull away but she holds him fast, determined to make him listen. ‘You just don’t.’
I dart ahead of the pair as she releases him. The street beyond the alley has grown quiet, the sirens long since gone. I do not need to turn to be aware of them passing by me, of them veering to the right, back toward the smoking ruin. We are going downtown, back to Diamond Jim’s, with a sullen boy as our guide.
EIGHTEEN
‘You don’t go in the front.’ The boy is reciting, his words clipped and formal. Another lesson learned from a heavy hand. ‘You never go in the front. That’s for show and for the nobs.’ He nods toward the fancy storefront as he talks. We’re across the street and several doors down. The traffic here is still considerable, but the grime on these children – along with the stench of smoke – makes other pedestrians give them a wide berth.
‘But Brian and his boys keep watch on the alley, right?’ She puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if to restrain him. She doesn’t have to.
‘Uh huh.’ His voice sinks to nothing and he licks dry lips. She notices. I see her glance down at his face, her own growing more drawn. I would have her focus on the shop opposite. We have approached Diamond Jim’s from the high street this time and stand there now, surrounded by commerce and noise. This is not a comfortable setting for me, and I have pressed myself back against a building to escape the mindless bustle. This area has one saving feature. Down here, the entrances to the buildings are separated from the street by planters and columns. The base of one provides sufficient shadow for me to disappear into, the benefit of my dark fur and the dim light, already fading with the day.
‘What …’ she starts to ask. The question remains unfinished. The tumult on the street announces a new presence. A threat. Care glances around and sees me backing further away. I am already secreted, my presence concealed from passers-by. She follows my lead, however, and steps back, pulling the boy with her. They cannot take refuge behind the planter but there is shadow beside the pillar. From here, we can observe.
‘It’s him.’ Tick’s whisper sounds loud in the tight space. Louder certainly than his previous admission. I leap to the top of the planter to see, only to feel myself pushed back by the girl.
‘Blackie, no!’ I turn and spit, my hiss less loud than that foolish boy, and she draws back abashed. But it is too late. The newcomers have passed into the shop, using the front door despite Tick’s memorized admonition.