Bloodstone (8 page)

It was like us. People didn’t notice it, much, which is why it drove me crazy when Finn imperilled that by bringing her temporary friends home. Not that she knew any better, I had to keep
reminding myself.

I stopped short when I saw who it was.

Mila’s boy
?

Unease tickled the nape of my neck; no, worse than unease: dread. The recognition was horrible: I was trying to hold too many spinning threads, and they were tangling and knotting in unforeseen
ways. This was the last thing I needed.

He was babyless this time, so at least his mother must have been compos mentis; at least Skinshanks can’t have been with her. I didn’t think about it too hard, though, too busy
cursing myself for not keeping an eye on Finn, for letting this happen. Jed had followed her, that day she almost killed Shania Rooney. I’d been careless, and look what had happened.

For more than one reason, I didn’t want Jed getting involved with Finn. I didn’t want him around me, around Conal, around any of us. I glanced into his labyrinthine, resistant mind;
difficult, but I was familiar with it now. My, but he was growing hard to handle. I hoped Skinshanks was finding the same. I hoped he unnerved Skinshanks as much as he did me.

He liked Finn, was fascinated – even entranced – by her, but that was never going to be all there was to it, not with this one. He knew a well-off household when he saw one. He knew
he was made for a month or two, if he played us right. He knew there was a grandma around, one who wasn’t too careful where she left her precious metals and her stones. Finn was naive enough
to tell him things like that. And he only had to take one look at the house.

He and Finn made a right pair: him in his oversized army-surplus jacket with the deep pockets, with his sleep-deprived eyes and his shaven head; her with her sulky rich-girl attitude, her
enamelled earrings, the thick chain round her neck dangling two hundred quids’ worth of Orkney silver. It almost made me smile.

But not quite.

The two of them were engrossed in something, but Jed glanced up as we walked into his field of vision, and his face froze. For an instant I felt sick, thinking he’d recognised me; but
before I could open my mouth and give myself away, I realised it wasn’t me he was looking at. I don’t think he could see anything except Conal. His mouth opened in frightened horror,
his eyes widened; then he ducked his head and feigned a vast interest in my bike. My beautiful, black, brand-new motorbike.

Which was when I realised what was going on. ‘You bloody little
cat
!’

I snatched the stone out of Finn’s fingers, stared at the scored chassis, at the jagged lettering.

COMPENSATING.

Conal caught my raised hand before it could connect with her face. ‘At least she can spell it,’ he murmured.

In disbelief I stared at what I’d assumed was a chunk of gravel. The raw stone was as green as sea over sand. You could almost see the skin of water, the stir of something deep within it,
something ancient that you might not want to see when it surfaced. The nearby burn gurgled over smooth stones, a light breeze whispered in the dying birches, a door slammed somewhere in the
outbuildings. Tornashee was suddenly so solid I could almost hear it living and breathing.

‘This is an emerald,’ I snapped, closing my fist round it. ‘Did your boyfriend nick it?’

She snatched at it, furious. ‘No he did not, you arse.’

Conal seized her wrist before she could hit me, and pulled her round to face my damaged bike. ‘That’s coming out of your allowance, kiddo. Apologise to Seth.’

‘Like hell I will.’

‘I don’t want her fecking apology, I want her
head
.’

‘Finn, apologise.’

Jed still wasn’t looking at any of us. His face was white. He was clearly afraid of Conal, but when I glared at my brother, I didn’t see any flicker of recognition. His face was hard
and expressionless.

Finn shrugged. ‘I don’t know what the big deal is. Seth can afford a respray. When he gets Granny committed. When he gets the house.’

‘That’s enough. Apologise to Seth or be grounded for a month.’

Well, she managed. Through teeth grinding like tectonic plates, but she did manage. ‘Sorry,
Seth
.’

Despite the sarky tone, that had cost her. Good. I gave her my worst smirk.

‘Seth, get a quote for a respray. Finn, quit showing off.’ He glanced at Jed, who was inching backwards, but still he showed no flicker of recognition. If I hadn’t been so
angry, my heart would have been in my mouth. How the hell did Jed know Conal? ‘And by the way, leave your grandmother out of it. We do not discuss family in public.’

She snorted with contempt. ‘Does public include me, then?’

‘We’re only looking out for her.’

‘Like she needs looking after,’ Finn sneered.

He took her stone from my hand, examined it, and gave it back to her. ‘Leonie didn’t give you this so you could make havoc. Have some respect for her yourself. And remember you
don’t know everything, you little smart-arse.’

‘I don’t know anything.’ Her voice was chilly. ‘It might help if you trusted me once in a while. I do have a functioning brain, unlike my demented
grandmother
.’

‘Finn, it’s me. Don’t bite my head off.’ He sighed. ‘School bad, was it?’

‘Like you care,’ she snapped.

‘I do care. Want me to talk to the teachers?’

‘No!’

‘Don’t panic,’ he said, slinging an arm round her shoulders. ‘What do you expect me to do about it, then? I’m not your father, Finn. It’s up to your
mother.’

A little reluctantly, she leaned into him. ‘Well, I wish you were my father, and I wish she wasn’t my mother.’

I sucked in a loud dramatic breath, let it out in an I-told-you-so sigh. Conal snapped, ‘Stop it, Finn.’

She looked away. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’re getting better,’ I said. ‘That even sounded sincere.’

‘Shut up, Seth.’ A moment’s silence. ‘Ach, Finn. It’s me that’s sorry.’

‘How is it your fault?’ She head-butted Conal’s arm, all affection.

He grabbed her head and shook it playfully. ‘It isn’t yours either, toots. Remember.’

I thought I might throw up soon. ‘I’m glad we got that clear at last,’ I muttered.

She took it for sarcasm, but he glared at me anyway, grabbed my arm and started to turn away. He still hadn’t taken a blind bit of notice of Jed and I’m sure Jed was as relieved
about that as I was.

And then Finn called after him, the silly cow. I could have cut out her tongue.

‘Oy, Conal. How did you know Granny gave me that stone?’

‘I’m a mind reader.’

‘Ha bleeding ha. Oh, I never introduced you.’ She turned to the boy with pride, and snatched his arm. ‘This is Jed.’

I shut my eyes. If Conal knew Jed he knew Mila, surely, and that was meant to be my business. Mine only. I didn’t fancy explaining the whole sordid story to Judge John bloody Deed.

When I opened my eyes Conal was standing in front of Jed, studying his face. I’d bet it was the longest thirty seconds of Jed’s life. It was pretty long for me.

Then Conal said, ‘I know.’

Jed didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even say goodbye. Give that boy his due, he could run like a roach when the lights go on.

Oh yes, he could run. Spent his life running, for his life and his brother’s life. He attracted bad things, bad luck, bad karma. He pulled foul worlds
into his orbit like a great black hole. But the day he had to run from the big blond brute, Jed sensed he’d never attracted anything as bad as this.

On that particular April day, he’d had to run harder and faster because he was going to be caught and he couldn’t let that happen. He had a fine excuse for taking
the man’s wallet, but he wasn’t about to explain himself. It wasn’t as if he’d get any sympathy. A good kicking was what he’d get.

Bolting over the bypass, dodging cars, he’d known real terror. The theft had been nothing personal but the man had taken it personally. Yet you’d never know it
from his face: so cold and grim and not a flicker of strain.

But Jed, now. Jed was tired.

His breath stung his throat, rasped at his lungs. Up onto the railway bridge, feet clanging, briefcases and bags banging his shins, but commuters dodged back as he shoved
through, and nobody was enough of a chancer to have a go. That held up the blond. By the time Jed leaped the stunted hedge into the superstore car park, he was fifteen metres ahead.

Across the ditch – tripping on a tangle of wire trolleys – and down the side of the next warehouse.
Oh God go away leave me go away.

It was a warren, back there among the wire fences and the broken glass and the sickly grass that cracked concrete. No way would he know where Jed had gone. No way.

Not unless those were running steps, now, behind—

Shit.
He ran again, sucking in a breath like a sob.
So help me I’ll never steal again.

Shaking sweat from his eyes.
I’ll
never steal from
him
again
—

Left, and left again. Over a low wall and round the back—

—
from him, on a Monday
—

Down the gut of a narrow alley, cut your hands on broken glass but you’re there, you’ve done it—

Piece of piss. Lost him.

NO!

He slammed into the wire fence he hadn’t seen coming, bouncing back off it. Clutched and tried to rip it in rage. Oh, stupid, stupid.
Climb, you
wanker
—

He’d barely gripped the wire when hands seized his wrists. He was torn down from it with such ease, he knew there was no point fighting.

Go limp, it won’t hurt as much
—

His face slammed against the wire. Its diamond pattern branded his cheek, cutting into his skin, but he was most afraid of the grip on his neck, strong enough to snap
vertebrae, and the burning pain between his temples. He twitched, blinked, fought the need to struggle, lashes butting a strand of wire. The man’s breath was hard at Jed’s ear as he
took back his wallet.

Not the polis. Not the polis. Just give us a kicking and go
—

Dropped abruptly, he fell in a curled-up heap to the ground, waiting for a foot to slam into his ribcage. That always hurt, but that was okay, so long as his head didn’t
get kicked—

Nothing. Above him he could hear breathing, and he was suddenly so afraid he thought he might piss himself. The headache was worse, searing his brain. Couldn’t even
think—

He didn’t hear them at first, the footsteps. By the time he did, they were retreating calmly up the alley. They faded, and as he blinked and dared to look, so did the
pain in his head. Slowly he took his arms away from his skull, and looked up.

Gone.

Jed blinked hard. No, he really had gone. No police, and despite the headache it seemed his skull was in one piece. He was shaking, and he was still afraid. Two
industrial-sized wheelie bins were jammed against the warehouse wall; he shuffled backwards till he was squeezed between them, forced himself not to cry. It wasn’t so much the fear of a
kicking as its absence. Useless
wanker.
Run faster next time, or fight like a proper ned. Or pick the pocket properly, so the bastard doesn’t notice.

He sat hugging his knees in the cold, drowning in misery, aching with rage, but he didn’t cry. At least he didn’t cry.

Not till he felt something strange in his inside pocket. It scared him before he even saw what it was, before he dragged out a bundle of paper and fumbled through it. His
hands shook and he dropped it, but he snatched it up again before it could gust away. He rubbed away hot maddening tears, and shoved the bundle of banknotes back in his pocket.

Then he got up, and ran again.

Funny how I always knew it was a dream. In some part of my head, anyway. I was never truly tempted to believe it was real when I dreamed about Mila, but when it happened, I
liked it. At the time I did. The moment of waking was cruel, but I deserved that. I always tried to delay waking, and of course as soon as you think that, you wake.