Blackthorn - Chapter Three
Willow
Drake had handed Pyro into the Enforcerer’s Department, coming away with a small wad of cash for his trouble, enough to keep him going for a good few days anyway. He’d spent the rest of the night holed up just outside the City, a few miles north of the reservoir that supplied Devilsgate with all of its water, under the wings of Falkor, as he had done every night since he had rescued him from the clutches of the dwarves.
At nine o’clock in the morning, Falkor had dropped him just outside the City walls and had disappeared into the thick cloud cover that strangled Devilsgate like a noose. Drake had continued on foot to the warehouse that was home to the orphans, or the Lost Souls as they were now known. The old orphanage, Drake’s home for six years before he had fled its walls, was now a burnt out shell, just another victim in the wars between humans and Faeries. Not that Drake was sorry to hear of its demise; it held too many painful memories which he’d hidden at the back of his mind, locked up so tight that he wouldn’t be able to unlock them again. Or so he hoped.
The warehouse was a relic from the human era, a four-storied Victorian red-bricked building which was rumoured to have once housed mental patients. Most of the windows were boarded up from the inside; the glass smashed by the bullet fire that rained down on Devilsgate during the Appropriation Riots, the shrapnel still embedded in the holes peppering the front wall. As if those human weapons would have held back the tide!
The air was thick with the smell of congealed blood from the adjacent meat factory where fresh animal carcasses hung from great steel hooks, waiting to be transported around the City, and the clogged up drains that were full of the detritus of life.
Drake didn’t really know why he was here; when he’d got the note from Willow asking him to come to the warehouse to discuss a proposition, he knew instinctively it was a bad idea, but even so, he found himself stood at the front steps of the crumbling building wondering. Wondering how the years had treated her since he had left, whether she was the same person or if she had changed like he had. He really hoped not; she had been the only thing in Devilsgate that had been good in his life.
He meandered through the corridors of the once magnificent warehouse, its walls now covered in graffiti and posters of missing people, the floorboards bare and crumbling. Every corner seemed to be crammed full of kids, battered sofas, mattresses or books and the air sang with the shouts and laughter of the kids that now called this place home.
A small boy with fuzzy blonde hair and an oversized grey t-shirt had reluctantly showed him up to the top floor where Willow hung out. His small blue eyes only moving from the tattoo, the Devil’s Mark, on Drake’s right cheek when Drake had placed a green note in the palm of his hand. Even so, the kid did a runner as soon as he’d shown him upstairs, not wanting to be alone with Drake for any longer than he had to, not even if Drake had offered him another crisp green note.
Drake stood at the doorway. He could hear the rise and fall of voices from inside.
‘What time is it?’ asked a male voice, full of exasperation.
‘Don’t worry Giz, he’ll be here,’ came the reply.
‘Nine-thirty,’ said Drake stepping into the room, ‘just like we’d agreed.’
Willow threw the book she had been reading onto the floor and leapt over to Drake. ‘Drake-‘
‘It’s been a long time, trouble,’ he said, as she flung her arms around him. ‘Wow, there! I need to breathe, you know, it’ll help keep me alive.’
‘Sorry,’ she replied, relinquishing her grip on him, a huge smile lighting up her face, ‘it just seems like it’s been-’
‘Forever,’ finished Drake. He looked at her and his heart felt heavy. She looked exactly the same as when he had left, except that now she was a young woman with several piercings and bright pink hair. For a second he could still see the sadness, the reality of life, etched in her almond shaped eyes, then it was gone, replaced by a hardness which was unfamiliar.
Willow’s companion rose from his swivel chair. ‘I’m Gizmo,’ he said, offering Drake his hand.
‘Drake,’ said Willow, gesturing at Gizmo, ‘this is Gizmo, Gizmo Chetana.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ replied Drake, taking Gizmo’s hand firmly.
‘And you,’ replied Gizmo smiling, but Drake could tell the guy was tense, almost uncomfortable in his presence and the smile didn’t extend to his amber eyes. Interesting, thought Drake.
‘Why don’t you take a seat,’ asked Willow, pointing to the nearest threadbare sofa, the arms black with dirt.
Drake took the Zephyr from his back and propped it up the side of the sofa, before slumping onto it.
Willow jumped into the seat next to Drake, her eyes drinking in every part of him. ‘It’s been so long, you haven’t changed a bit.’
‘Neither have you,’ replied Drake, knowing that they were both lying to each other. He could feel an invisible wall between them, built by the years of separation.
Gizmo coughed.
Drake looked over to him; Gizmo was now back on his chair, three virtual computer screens flashing in front of him. ‘This is some set up you guys have got,’ said Drake, his eyes lingering on Gizmo’s desk which was crammed full of cables, black boxes and circuit boards. ‘So, I’m assuming you didn’t just ask me here so we could go over the good old days,’ he said, turning back to Willow.
‘No,’ she replied, pulling her legs up onto the sofa and curling her arms protectively around them. ‘We’re in trouble Drake, we need your help.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Major league,’ she replied, picking at the frayed sleeve of her black hoodie. ‘I don’t know how much you know about what’s happening in Devilsgate-‘
‘I know Fenrik’s still in charge, so if I were a betting man, I would say things are still the same as when I left.’
‘No, they’re not the same,’ said Gizmo, casually flicking boxes of text on his screens away, back into cyberspace, ‘they’re much worse.’
Drake could hear a trace of bitterness in Gizmo’s voice. ‘Worse how?’ he said, turning back to look at Gizmo, but Gizmo ignored him and continued flicking through the text and images.
‘Drake, the University are planning a purge of humans. They want all of us out of Devilsgate. We’ve got six days left and then we have to pack up and leave.’
‘And go where?’ asked Drake, bouncing around in his seat to face Willow.
‘They don’t care as long as it’s not here. Anyway,’ said Willow, her eyes looking off into the distance, ‘it doesn’t matter what they want because we’re not leaving. This is my home.‘
Drake closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. ‘Don’t be stupid, if you’ve got to go-’
‘And so said the Faery,’ replied Gizmo, his eyes still glued to his computer screens.
Drake winced at Gizmo’s reply, but tried, all the same, to ignore it. For now.
‘No,’ said Willow unclasping her legs, ‘we’re not going anywhere. We’re going underground,’ said Willow, the conspiratorial defiance clear in her voice.
‘We’ve been keeping an eye on the Authorities,’ said Gizmo pointing to his screens, ‘I use this to track their movements so that we can stay one step ahead.’ Gizmo began to flick at the screens in front of him again. Once he’d found the one he wanted, he tapped a code into the virtual keyboard. ‘Say hello to Ailsa.’
Drake opened his eyes. There was a crackle in the air in front of him, a flicker of blue light as a small child-like figure appeared in three-dimensional form.
‘Wow,’ said Drake, his eyes wide as he leant forward to run his hand through the holograph.
‘Do you mind?’ said the figure, its nose pointed in the air, its arms firmly crossed over its chest.
‘Sorry,’ said Drake, jumping back in his chair.
‘She’s Gizmo’s creation,’ said Willow, ‘Ailsa is an Artificial Intelligence.’
‘We use her to munch through the Enforcerer’s Systems. She searches for any information we can use. But we’re having trouble,’ continued Gizmo, ‘The Enforcerer’s Department have installed some new Demon-ware that’s doing a damn good job of keeping us out. We should have it sorted soon, there’s bound to be a back door-’
Ailsa spoke to Gizmo, her eyes still locked onto Drake, a distinct look of disgust on her face. ‘Route 2267 is blocked, we need to try another path.’
‘Okay,’ said Gizmo, ‘we’ll try route 3345 now. Report back as soon as you can.’ And with that Ailsa disappeared.
‘And how do I fit into all of this?’ asked Drake. Just as he had expected, this conversation was beginning to go down a long road that he had no desire to travel on.
‘We need you to help us find something-’
‘Willow, I-’
‘Just hear me out,’ said Willow putting her palms up to pacify him. ‘We need to find a book for a friend-’
‘How’s finding a book going to help?’
Gizmo stopped flicking through the screens and finally looked at Drake. ‘My father is friends with the Chief Law Enforcerer-’
‘The guy who runs the Law Department?’ asked Drake.
‘Yeah,’ said Gizmo nodding. ‘He approached me a few days ago, said that he knew what we were up to, but he promised he’d keep quiet if we did this little favour for him and find the book-’
‘Must be some important book,’ said Drake, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice, ‘if he’s willing to protect you in exchange for it. You know, a man in his position wouldn’t usually help if there wasn’t something really good for him at the end of it.’
‘Funestus isn’t like that,’ said Gizmo.
Drake rubbed his hand across his chin, the desire to tell the rich kid - in his expensive leather jacket and designer glasses - the truth, was almost too much to bear: Men like Funestus were always out for themselves. ‘The guy is in charge of the Department that is kicking you out of Devilsgate and blocking Ailsa with Demon-ware-’
‘To be honest Drake, I don’t care, I just need to find the book because I’m not leaving Devilsgate,’ said Willow, her face full of steely determination.
‘I’m not a treasure hunter Willow,’ said Drake.
‘I know, but I thought you might help…you know…for old times’ sake.’ Willow stared off into the distance as she said this, and Drake was sure he could hear a trace of bitterness in her voice.
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’d let you have a percentage of whatever we make; 60:40.’
Drake laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Please Drake,’ said Willow, but it was not a question. ‘I’m going to find it anyway, with or without you-’
Drake crossed his arms over his chest. ‘This isn’t what I came back for-’
‘You’re more experienced than us at finding things-’
‘Yeah, people and creatures, not books.’
Willow looked straight into Drake’s eyes. ‘Just meet the guy and talk to him. He’ll be able to explain what he wants better than us, and then you can make your mind up.’
Drake rubbed his forehead. This conversation had definitely had gone down a route he didn‘t want to take. He hadn’t come back for this, to take on other people’s problems. He’d got enough of his own and doing this for Willow would only delay him. But there was something pulling him towards her. Guilt for leaving her alone in Devilsgate all those years ago? Shit. What the hell was he going to do?
Drake leaned back on the sofa and ran his hands through his thick black hair. ‘Okay, let me ask you this; if everyone else in this City is in Fenrik’s pocket, what’s to say Funestus isn’t? I mean, chances are he’s the same as everyone else who gets in power; they turn into greedy, power hungry gits who’ll do anything to make more money and get more power-’
‘No, he isn’t. I’ve known him for most of my life and he’s not the power hungry type. He hates what’s going on here as much as we do, he’s just trying to change things from the inside out, that’s all,’ said Gizmo.
‘Just meet him?’ asked Willow.
Drake sighed loudly. ‘Okay, but I’m not promising anything, right?'
It was mid-afternoon when Drake and Gizmo left the warehouse. The heavy cloud cover threatened rain, making the City even darker than usual, and a bitter wind had whipped up, the crisp packets and screwed-up newspaper somersaulting across the streets like tumbleweed in an old Western movie. The streets were almost deserted, the remaining people scuttled away like cockroaches, whether from the impending rain, the threat of the Shadow Walkers or from the sight of Drake himself, he couldn’t tell.
‘So how come a rich boy is hanging out with the Lost Souls anyway?’ asked Drake, trying to break the awkward silence that was opening out like some great chasm between Gizmo and himself.
‘What, because I come from a wealthy family I shouldn’t hang out with them? Is that what you’re saying?’
Drake shrugged. ‘It just doesn’t strike me as a rich guy’s thing.’
Gizmo stopped and stared at Drake, his amber eyes tracing the Devil’s Mark snaking around Drake’s right eye. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again and instead shook his head and turned away. ’I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ he muttered to the floor as he strode off down the road.
‘Fair enough,’ said Drake striding after him. He preferred silence anyway; he was only making an effort for Willow’s sake.
Before long, after a hushed exchange of words between Gizmo and two burly security guards, they had entered the exclusive gated community of Fordbrooks, the place where the rich played safely whilst the rest of Devilsgate burned.
On the face of it, Fordbrooks was impressive with its vast mansions, swimming pools and luxury cars, but Drake would much rather have the honesty of the desperate people of the slums - they were what they were, nothing more, nothing less – and they didn’t hide it or pretend to be something that they weren’t. And, as anyone knows, the biggest crooks live in some of the biggest houses, Drake thought to himself.
Selling just one of those Garelli cars with their fine leather seats and gold trimmed panelling, would probably feed the Lost Souls for an eternity. Maybe he should just take one now, save him the bother of meeting this Funestus Black. Not that feeding the Lost Souls was his problem; he’d enough trauma just looking after himself and Falkor.
Falkor? Now, how would that go down with the rich kid?
Gizmo suddenly stopped in the middle of the street and spun around on his heels. ‘What exactly are your intentions?’
This took Drake by surprise. ‘My intentions?’
‘With Willow-’
‘Oh,’ said Drake smiling, ‘you think that Willow and I, you know-’
‘No. I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,’ said Gizmo, pushing his glasses up his nose.
‘Relax,’ said Drake holding his palms up in surrender, ‘we’re just friends.’
‘That’s exactly what she said,’ said Gizmo.
‘Well, maybe you should listen to her-’
‘But if that’s the case why was she so cut up when you left?’
Those words sliced through Drake’s heart like a sabre. Drake rubbed his hand across his chin, not knowing what to say. ‘I…’
Gizmo sighed loudly. ‘Why did you have to come back to Devilsgate?’
Drake could feel a bolt of anger flash inside him. This was a conversation he was not going to have with Gizmo. ‘That’s my business.’
Gizmo glared at him, his body tense and as tight as a knot. ‘Are you going to hurt her again?’
Drake took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘No,’ he said, rubbing the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘No, I’m not. Look, me and Willow, it’s not what you think. We grew up together in the orphanage. We were like brother and sister then I left-‘
‘Why didn’t you take her with you?’
Drake looked at Gizmo, and sighed; whatever he said would not be enough for him. ‘I couldn’t. I could only just about look after myself. I went back to see her but every time I left her again it hurt more and more. In the end I just stopped going.’
Gizmo turned and started walking away. ‘Just don’t run out on her again, okay?’
But Drake didn’t reply.
At nine o’clock in the morning, Falkor had dropped him just outside the City walls and had disappeared into the thick cloud cover that strangled Devilsgate like a noose. Drake had continued on foot to the warehouse that was home to the orphans, or the Lost Souls as they were now known. The old orphanage, Drake’s home for six years before he had fled its walls, was now a burnt out shell, just another victim in the wars between humans and Faeries. Not that Drake was sorry to hear of its demise; it held too many painful memories which he’d hidden at the back of his mind, locked up so tight that he wouldn’t be able to unlock them again. Or so he hoped.
The warehouse was a relic from the human era, a four-storied Victorian red-bricked building which was rumoured to have once housed mental patients. Most of the windows were boarded up from the inside; the glass smashed by the bullet fire that rained down on Devilsgate during the Appropriation Riots, the shrapnel still embedded in the holes peppering the front wall. As if those human weapons would have held back the tide!
The air was thick with the smell of congealed blood from the adjacent meat factory where fresh animal carcasses hung from great steel hooks, waiting to be transported around the City, and the clogged up drains that were full of the detritus of life.
Drake didn’t really know why he was here; when he’d got the note from Willow asking him to come to the warehouse to discuss a proposition, he knew instinctively it was a bad idea, but even so, he found himself stood at the front steps of the crumbling building wondering. Wondering how the years had treated her since he had left, whether she was the same person or if she had changed like he had. He really hoped not; she had been the only thing in Devilsgate that had been good in his life.
He meandered through the corridors of the once magnificent warehouse, its walls now covered in graffiti and posters of missing people, the floorboards bare and crumbling. Every corner seemed to be crammed full of kids, battered sofas, mattresses or books and the air sang with the shouts and laughter of the kids that now called this place home.
A small boy with fuzzy blonde hair and an oversized grey t-shirt had reluctantly showed him up to the top floor where Willow hung out. His small blue eyes only moving from the tattoo, the Devil’s Mark, on Drake’s right cheek when Drake had placed a green note in the palm of his hand. Even so, the kid did a runner as soon as he’d shown him upstairs, not wanting to be alone with Drake for any longer than he had to, not even if Drake had offered him another crisp green note.
Drake stood at the doorway. He could hear the rise and fall of voices from inside.
‘What time is it?’ asked a male voice, full of exasperation.
‘Don’t worry Giz, he’ll be here,’ came the reply.
‘Nine-thirty,’ said Drake stepping into the room, ‘just like we’d agreed.’
Willow threw the book she had been reading onto the floor and leapt over to Drake. ‘Drake-‘
‘It’s been a long time, trouble,’ he said, as she flung her arms around him. ‘Wow, there! I need to breathe, you know, it’ll help keep me alive.’
‘Sorry,’ she replied, relinquishing her grip on him, a huge smile lighting up her face, ‘it just seems like it’s been-’
‘Forever,’ finished Drake. He looked at her and his heart felt heavy. She looked exactly the same as when he had left, except that now she was a young woman with several piercings and bright pink hair. For a second he could still see the sadness, the reality of life, etched in her almond shaped eyes, then it was gone, replaced by a hardness which was unfamiliar.
Willow’s companion rose from his swivel chair. ‘I’m Gizmo,’ he said, offering Drake his hand.
‘Drake,’ said Willow, gesturing at Gizmo, ‘this is Gizmo, Gizmo Chetana.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ replied Drake, taking Gizmo’s hand firmly.
‘And you,’ replied Gizmo smiling, but Drake could tell the guy was tense, almost uncomfortable in his presence and the smile didn’t extend to his amber eyes. Interesting, thought Drake.
‘Why don’t you take a seat,’ asked Willow, pointing to the nearest threadbare sofa, the arms black with dirt.
Drake took the Zephyr from his back and propped it up the side of the sofa, before slumping onto it.
Willow jumped into the seat next to Drake, her eyes drinking in every part of him. ‘It’s been so long, you haven’t changed a bit.’
‘Neither have you,’ replied Drake, knowing that they were both lying to each other. He could feel an invisible wall between them, built by the years of separation.
Gizmo coughed.
Drake looked over to him; Gizmo was now back on his chair, three virtual computer screens flashing in front of him. ‘This is some set up you guys have got,’ said Drake, his eyes lingering on Gizmo’s desk which was crammed full of cables, black boxes and circuit boards. ‘So, I’m assuming you didn’t just ask me here so we could go over the good old days,’ he said, turning back to Willow.
‘No,’ she replied, pulling her legs up onto the sofa and curling her arms protectively around them. ‘We’re in trouble Drake, we need your help.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Major league,’ she replied, picking at the frayed sleeve of her black hoodie. ‘I don’t know how much you know about what’s happening in Devilsgate-‘
‘I know Fenrik’s still in charge, so if I were a betting man, I would say things are still the same as when I left.’
‘No, they’re not the same,’ said Gizmo, casually flicking boxes of text on his screens away, back into cyberspace, ‘they’re much worse.’
Drake could hear a trace of bitterness in Gizmo’s voice. ‘Worse how?’ he said, turning back to look at Gizmo, but Gizmo ignored him and continued flicking through the text and images.
‘Drake, the University are planning a purge of humans. They want all of us out of Devilsgate. We’ve got six days left and then we have to pack up and leave.’
‘And go where?’ asked Drake, bouncing around in his seat to face Willow.
‘They don’t care as long as it’s not here. Anyway,’ said Willow, her eyes looking off into the distance, ‘it doesn’t matter what they want because we’re not leaving. This is my home.‘
Drake closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. ‘Don’t be stupid, if you’ve got to go-’
‘And so said the Faery,’ replied Gizmo, his eyes still glued to his computer screens.
Drake winced at Gizmo’s reply, but tried, all the same, to ignore it. For now.
‘No,’ said Willow unclasping her legs, ‘we’re not going anywhere. We’re going underground,’ said Willow, the conspiratorial defiance clear in her voice.
‘We’ve been keeping an eye on the Authorities,’ said Gizmo pointing to his screens, ‘I use this to track their movements so that we can stay one step ahead.’ Gizmo began to flick at the screens in front of him again. Once he’d found the one he wanted, he tapped a code into the virtual keyboard. ‘Say hello to Ailsa.’
Drake opened his eyes. There was a crackle in the air in front of him, a flicker of blue light as a small child-like figure appeared in three-dimensional form.
‘Wow,’ said Drake, his eyes wide as he leant forward to run his hand through the holograph.
‘Do you mind?’ said the figure, its nose pointed in the air, its arms firmly crossed over its chest.
‘Sorry,’ said Drake, jumping back in his chair.
‘She’s Gizmo’s creation,’ said Willow, ‘Ailsa is an Artificial Intelligence.’
‘We use her to munch through the Enforcerer’s Systems. She searches for any information we can use. But we’re having trouble,’ continued Gizmo, ‘The Enforcerer’s Department have installed some new Demon-ware that’s doing a damn good job of keeping us out. We should have it sorted soon, there’s bound to be a back door-’
Ailsa spoke to Gizmo, her eyes still locked onto Drake, a distinct look of disgust on her face. ‘Route 2267 is blocked, we need to try another path.’
‘Okay,’ said Gizmo, ‘we’ll try route 3345 now. Report back as soon as you can.’ And with that Ailsa disappeared.
‘And how do I fit into all of this?’ asked Drake. Just as he had expected, this conversation was beginning to go down a long road that he had no desire to travel on.
‘We need you to help us find something-’
‘Willow, I-’
‘Just hear me out,’ said Willow putting her palms up to pacify him. ‘We need to find a book for a friend-’
‘How’s finding a book going to help?’
Gizmo stopped flicking through the screens and finally looked at Drake. ‘My father is friends with the Chief Law Enforcerer-’
‘The guy who runs the Law Department?’ asked Drake.
‘Yeah,’ said Gizmo nodding. ‘He approached me a few days ago, said that he knew what we were up to, but he promised he’d keep quiet if we did this little favour for him and find the book-’
‘Must be some important book,’ said Drake, unable to keep the scepticism from his voice, ‘if he’s willing to protect you in exchange for it. You know, a man in his position wouldn’t usually help if there wasn’t something really good for him at the end of it.’
‘Funestus isn’t like that,’ said Gizmo.
Drake rubbed his hand across his chin, the desire to tell the rich kid - in his expensive leather jacket and designer glasses - the truth, was almost too much to bear: Men like Funestus were always out for themselves. ‘The guy is in charge of the Department that is kicking you out of Devilsgate and blocking Ailsa with Demon-ware-’
‘To be honest Drake, I don’t care, I just need to find the book because I’m not leaving Devilsgate,’ said Willow, her face full of steely determination.
‘I’m not a treasure hunter Willow,’ said Drake.
‘I know, but I thought you might help…you know…for old times’ sake.’ Willow stared off into the distance as she said this, and Drake was sure he could hear a trace of bitterness in her voice.
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’d let you have a percentage of whatever we make; 60:40.’
Drake laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Please Drake,’ said Willow, but it was not a question. ‘I’m going to find it anyway, with or without you-’
Drake crossed his arms over his chest. ‘This isn’t what I came back for-’
‘You’re more experienced than us at finding things-’
‘Yeah, people and creatures, not books.’
Willow looked straight into Drake’s eyes. ‘Just meet the guy and talk to him. He’ll be able to explain what he wants better than us, and then you can make your mind up.’
Drake rubbed his forehead. This conversation had definitely had gone down a route he didn‘t want to take. He hadn’t come back for this, to take on other people’s problems. He’d got enough of his own and doing this for Willow would only delay him. But there was something pulling him towards her. Guilt for leaving her alone in Devilsgate all those years ago? Shit. What the hell was he going to do?
Drake leaned back on the sofa and ran his hands through his thick black hair. ‘Okay, let me ask you this; if everyone else in this City is in Fenrik’s pocket, what’s to say Funestus isn’t? I mean, chances are he’s the same as everyone else who gets in power; they turn into greedy, power hungry gits who’ll do anything to make more money and get more power-’
‘No, he isn’t. I’ve known him for most of my life and he’s not the power hungry type. He hates what’s going on here as much as we do, he’s just trying to change things from the inside out, that’s all,’ said Gizmo.
‘Just meet him?’ asked Willow.
Drake sighed loudly. ‘Okay, but I’m not promising anything, right?'
It was mid-afternoon when Drake and Gizmo left the warehouse. The heavy cloud cover threatened rain, making the City even darker than usual, and a bitter wind had whipped up, the crisp packets and screwed-up newspaper somersaulting across the streets like tumbleweed in an old Western movie. The streets were almost deserted, the remaining people scuttled away like cockroaches, whether from the impending rain, the threat of the Shadow Walkers or from the sight of Drake himself, he couldn’t tell.
‘So how come a rich boy is hanging out with the Lost Souls anyway?’ asked Drake, trying to break the awkward silence that was opening out like some great chasm between Gizmo and himself.
‘What, because I come from a wealthy family I shouldn’t hang out with them? Is that what you’re saying?’
Drake shrugged. ‘It just doesn’t strike me as a rich guy’s thing.’
Gizmo stopped and stared at Drake, his amber eyes tracing the Devil’s Mark snaking around Drake’s right eye. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again and instead shook his head and turned away. ’I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ he muttered to the floor as he strode off down the road.
‘Fair enough,’ said Drake striding after him. He preferred silence anyway; he was only making an effort for Willow’s sake.
Before long, after a hushed exchange of words between Gizmo and two burly security guards, they had entered the exclusive gated community of Fordbrooks, the place where the rich played safely whilst the rest of Devilsgate burned.
On the face of it, Fordbrooks was impressive with its vast mansions, swimming pools and luxury cars, but Drake would much rather have the honesty of the desperate people of the slums - they were what they were, nothing more, nothing less – and they didn’t hide it or pretend to be something that they weren’t. And, as anyone knows, the biggest crooks live in some of the biggest houses, Drake thought to himself.
Selling just one of those Garelli cars with their fine leather seats and gold trimmed panelling, would probably feed the Lost Souls for an eternity. Maybe he should just take one now, save him the bother of meeting this Funestus Black. Not that feeding the Lost Souls was his problem; he’d enough trauma just looking after himself and Falkor.
Falkor? Now, how would that go down with the rich kid?
Gizmo suddenly stopped in the middle of the street and spun around on his heels. ‘What exactly are your intentions?’
This took Drake by surprise. ‘My intentions?’
‘With Willow-’
‘Oh,’ said Drake smiling, ‘you think that Willow and I, you know-’
‘No. I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,’ said Gizmo, pushing his glasses up his nose.
‘Relax,’ said Drake holding his palms up in surrender, ‘we’re just friends.’
‘That’s exactly what she said,’ said Gizmo.
‘Well, maybe you should listen to her-’
‘But if that’s the case why was she so cut up when you left?’
Those words sliced through Drake’s heart like a sabre. Drake rubbed his hand across his chin, not knowing what to say. ‘I…’
Gizmo sighed loudly. ‘Why did you have to come back to Devilsgate?’
Drake could feel a bolt of anger flash inside him. This was a conversation he was not going to have with Gizmo. ‘That’s my business.’
Gizmo glared at him, his body tense and as tight as a knot. ‘Are you going to hurt her again?’
Drake took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘No,’ he said, rubbing the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘No, I’m not. Look, me and Willow, it’s not what you think. We grew up together in the orphanage. We were like brother and sister then I left-‘
‘Why didn’t you take her with you?’
Drake looked at Gizmo, and sighed; whatever he said would not be enough for him. ‘I couldn’t. I could only just about look after myself. I went back to see her but every time I left her again it hurt more and more. In the end I just stopped going.’
Gizmo turned and started walking away. ‘Just don’t run out on her again, okay?’
But Drake didn’t reply.