Bloodstone (21 page)

‘And I’m as mad as hell at her. That what you want to hear?’

I shrugged. ‘Fact is, you don’t want Finn to go back either.’

‘No, I don’t. I have to stay now; I don’t have a choice. If Finn goes back, I might never see her again.’

‘Give her time, then. Give yourself some, for that matter.’

‘If you say so.’ He tore off a nail with his teeth. ‘I’m not sure how long I can risk it. Never mind Kate, my life won’t be worth living anyway. I’m for
it.’

I grinned. ‘You’re safe. Stella can’t come back here; now
you
can’t go
there
.’

‘Oh, cheers. Thanks a lot.’ He punched me amicably.

‘So you might as well get Jed.’

‘I’ll do it right now.’ He winked at me, and raised his voice only slightly. ‘Jed? Come on out.’

The silence and the stillness remained for a few moments, but neither of us spoke, and at last the boy crawled out from a gap in the grey rock outcrop.

‘Thank Christ you’re not a social worker,’ he muttered. Conal grinned at Liath, in whose amber eyes Jed’s reflection was trapped like a fly.

‘It’s time we got you home, that’s all.’

‘About time,’ Jed grunted. ‘I don’t belong here.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Conal, slinging an arm round Liath’s shaggy neck, ‘though you don’t.’

Jed shook his head. ‘You’re such a tosser.’

‘See? You and Seth are of one mind.’

I laughed.

Jed nodded at Conal’s bare arm, and the white scored lines. ‘What are those?’

‘Those?’ Conal ran his finger across one of them, avoiding my eyes, and tugged his sleeve back down. ‘Those are my sins.’

I remembered how deep the cuts had gone. No wonder the scars were ugly.

‘Oh, aye? Is that what you do for a penance round here?’

‘A penance? Count them, Jed. There’s only one of me.’

I stretched my arms, yawned. ‘Conversation over, Cuilean.’

Conal lay back to watch the astonishing sky, the wolf slumping beside him to wash his ear with her tongue. ‘Hey, Liath, that tickles.’

Rebuffed, Liath turned her mothering instincts on Jed, licking his face till he grabbed her muzzle to scratch behind her ears. While he was distracted, I took a long glance at Conal. The morning
light was strong on the angles of his face, his eye sockets and cheekbones hollow, the stubble of a dark blond beard on his jaw and lip. His eyes were haunted and miserable.

I shook off a twinge of anxiety. All he needed was a few hours’ sleep.

‘Cù Chaorach, you look like shite,’ I said. ‘You need to—’

‘Get going. Right.’ Conal stood up, the exhausted sadness gone. Or it would have been, if I hadn’t known him better. ‘And so do you, Jed. You might not have noticed, but
you’re getting kind of comfortable here. You want to watch it when that happens.’

‘Listen, man, I can’t wait to get out of here.’

‘Just before you do,’ I murmured, ‘be a dear and give us back that brooch.’

‘What?’

‘You know. The one you nicked off Leonora’s workbench.’

His face froze, but he studiously avoided looking guilty as he fished in his inside pocket for the jewel, and handed it over. It was even more beautiful in sunlight, and the dazzle made the
stones look bigger.

‘We wouldn’t have known,’ said Conal kindly. ‘Leonora told us.’

‘I didn’t know she knew.’ Jed sounded sullen and offended.

‘Ah, she only knew because she missed it. She knew every piece, and no-one else could possibly have taken it. Nicely done, by the way. You could have given me a few tips.’

‘What?’

‘I mean, you’re better at it than I ever was.’ Conal winked.

Jed’s fierce blush faded as he let that sink in. ‘You’re a thief and all?’ He paused. ‘People don’t notice you, of course.’

Conal rubbed his scalp. ‘Not much.’

‘I could use a Veil. In Tesco.’

I snorted.

‘Sionnach will take you back to the watergate, okay?’ Conal studied the elaborate tangle of gold, then placed it back in Jed’s hand and closed his fingers over it.
‘Don’t sell it for a pittance, right? It’s worth a lot. Should keep you going for a while.’

Jed was too shocked to say anything, and I thought better of it too.

Conal couldn’t quite meet Jed’s eyes. ‘It was nice knowing you, okay? I think you’ll be fine.’

Jed swallowed. ‘Are you all right? Is something bothering you? Can I—’

‘Yes. No. And no. Is that all?’ Conal smiled thinly. ‘What is it, Sionnach?’

The man’s face was white as he ran out of the trees.

‘Cù Chaorach,’ said Sionnach. ‘She’s disappeared. Gone. Finn’s gone.’

Clambering over the barbed wire, Jed dropped to the ground and stared back into the gloom of the wood. The weather had turned fast; the beaten-metal surface
of the Fairy Loch was pale grey and wintry between the black pine trunks, a faint breeze feathering its surface. There was an ache in his gut he hadn’t expected.

He was glad he’d got out of that hideous wild place. Hated to think what Conal would be doing by now. Stringing everyone up, if he hadn’t found Finn. Stringing her
up if he had.

He shook off the memory: Conal’s wild grief and fury, his bawled order to Sionnach to get the boy home
now
so he could get his arse back and help with the hunt.
Jed wondered what had happened to Finn: why she’d vanished, and where to.

Oh, who cared? The way she’d acted in the last few hours – self-absorbed, throwing tantrum after tantrum – there was no reason why he should. Anyway,
she’d been so clearly desperate to see the back of him. Hell with her, and to hell with Conal. It wasn’t his business any more; never had been. With luck his mother would soon up sticks
and move again. Please, God, he thought, this time let her pick a decent-sized city, somewhere he wouldn’t even get the chance to be tempted to make friends.

Mila would have to get her head together soon, before the authorities latched on to her. For all Jed knew, their number was already up and the social workers had moved in in
his absence.

Would that be such a bad thing?

He didn’t know where the sneaking whisper came from. Himself, presumably, since it was only in his own head, but he’d never have anticipated the thought could be
so seductive.

Freedom
, he thought. No responsibility, no trouble, no love. He could make something of himself, make something of his life. Mila could manage without him; she could
certainly manage without Rory, since she’d soon forget he’d ever existed. And Rory? Rory would be better off in care than he would with a junkie dam.

And what kind of a word was
dam
? And how had it got in his head?

And how had
any
of this crap got in his head?

Worst of all, why was he so hideously sure it had all happened already?

Fear iced Jed’s spine, and he ran.

He pelted along the tarmac faster than he’d ever run from a security guard, ignoring the speeding traffic, almost running under a braking BMW. But he might have been
running in a dream: his legs wouldn’t work, the air felt thick as honey, he couldn’t go fast enough. His focus narrowed to the town perimeter, to grey streets and bleak concrete. The
roads were cluttered now, and he barged through crowds, ignoring the yells. His lungs were rasping when he swung into the alleyway that led to his own back door.

The stupid gate was stuck as usual. He leaped for the top of the fence, caught it, and clambered over, dropping down on the other side and fumbling in his pocket for the back
door key.

The lanky dealer had his fingers on the handle of the outer shared door, but when he caught sight of Jed he released it, sighing, and stepped back out of the way. Jed searched
more desperately for the door key, ignoring that flickering malevolent grin. It was hard not to look.

‘Now, this is an interesting development.’

The dealer smiled again, and nausea gripped Jed’s gut. He was almost screaming with frustration by the time his trembling fingers closed on the key, and he could hardly fit it
in the door. The cadaverous laugh behind him sounded like a boot stamping on dry twigs, but at least it put steel in his bones. He wrenched the door open.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he closed his mouth against the stench, almost choking on lungfuls of ammonia and piss and... sickness. The landlady was on the shared
landing, and Jed bounced off her as he leaped up the last three stairs, shoving her aside.

She staggered, then bristled. ‘I’ve called the police. That wean ought to be in care.’ Her nasal voice rose to a yell. ‘It’s been screaming all
morning!’

Flinging open the flat door, he slammed it in her face.

Jed stood still. There was Rory’s echoing screaming, and there was the awful stink of vomit. That was all he could take in: that and his mother, face down on the floor.
Her head was turned so that one brown eye was looking right at him.

‘Mila?’ He started to crouch down, but hesitated. ‘Mum?’

Uncertainty in his head, ice in his heart, denial in his gut. And behind it all, distant sirens.

Only one clear knowledge: there was only one of them he could take care of for now. Snatching up Rory’s fleece and yanking it down over his screaming head, he gathered
the child into his arms. God, the little bugger was sodden and he stank. Jed stuck a nappy in his pocket.

Rory buried his face in Jed’s neck, his screams already fading to hiccuping sobs. Jed hesitated, hand cupping his head. He wanted to check on his mother again but there
was no point looking. No time to look. He wouldn’t look.

He bolted.

The stairs made him dizzy now that he had Rory, making him stumble with every step. The scrawny pusher was gone but the landlady was in the yard, peering out of the gate that
now swung wide and loose on rusted hinges. Jed barged her aside, ignoring her shouts of fury and then no longer hearing them at all because he was already running, the sirens beating on his
eardrums.

He ducked out of the alleyway as the ambulance swerved into the street, but its driver ignored him and he ran behind it. At the corner there were more sirens. They were coming
from two directions at the T junction and he doubled back, half stumbling. Three emergency vehicles for his mother? Even to Jed it seemed like overkill.

At the opposite end of the street he heard them again, echoing off the concrete pillars of the shopping arcade. He couldn’t even tell where they were coming from. People
were staring but he didn’t know where to go, which way to turn. He gave a ragged yell of frustration.

‘Oy, you.
Stop
!’

Ducking under a broken fence, he sprinted across a patch of waste ground. He knew his territory but it was awkward carrying Rory, arms locked so tight around Jed’s neck.
But he wouldn’t, couldn’t leave him. Like he’d left Mila...
no
. He batted away the image of her, so still and badly-angled.

At the end of a narrow strip of waste ground he paused at the main road, heart hammering. Shutting his eyes briefly, he darted from his hole, but they were ahead: a policeman,
hatless, and two women, one in police uniform and one in a black turtleneck and a cheap red blazer. They came towards him, Red Blazer at the front, and slowed as he came to a halt, gasping. She
held her hand towards him, eyes brightly intent.

‘Come on, son, cool it.’ The policeman’s voice was low, authoritative, the kind of voice you instinctively trusted. ‘Let us help you and the baby. Come
on.’

He looked at the cop, and he looked at the woman. Her face was fanatical; almost
hungry
.

Jed spun and ran again. There was nowhere left to go but out of town. The perimeter seemed far away when he heard the shouts behind him, but he got there faster than he could
have hoped, Rory clinging like a throttling vine. Horns blared, tyres screeched, and the speed of the cars made him hesitate, but only for a moment; then he was across the bypass and running hard
into the countryside.

He halted, gulping for air, then ran again. The pursuit was still behind: Jesus, why did they have to mind so much? He fought to get breath, hauling in sobbing lungfuls that
tore at his chest. Sirens again, somewhere ahead, herding him. Why so many? Why would they give such a damn?

His strength failed him at the gate of the Fairy Loch and he leaned against it, sucking air into his lungs though it stung and ached. He tilted his head back and stared up,
all out of hope. There was no way to get Rory safely across the wire: his baby flesh would catch and tear. Jed rubbed his eyes against his brother’s damp blond hair, the fight gone out of
him, and slumped against the gate.

It sagged wide open; he only just caught himself from falling.

How stupid. It was so funny he nearly laughed, hysterically. He’d been shinning over a gate with a broken padlock for months. Well, it didn’t matter now. It was a
hopeless place to hide, but he barged in anyway, ignoring the inner voice that screamed at him to turn back. It was a place to be cornered, a place to be caught.

Then again, so was the road.

In the shadow of the pines he stopped and waited, hoping the cops were a superstitious lot who’d pass by the Fairy Loch. It was a forlorn hope, but if he pressed further
in, hid in the undergrowth, they might give it only a cursory check. He couldn’t stay this close to the fence.

He staggered down the slope and deeper into the wood. The tramp was nowhere in sight, and just as well. Caught between a psychopath and social services, Jed wasn’t sure
what he’d do.

Above and behind him, the gate rattled.

Breathing shallow and fast, he fought the welling terror. He was going to jail, and Rory into care, and he would never see his brother again, and very suddenly that did
matter, mattered terribly. Cold wrenching fear drove him on, even though it was pointless; after all, without Finn the loch was no use to him: nothing but a dank, freezing drowning-pit.