Jackal’s Gambit Read online

  Jackal and his two cohorts disappeared down a tiny alley between two shops already closed for the night, making Karen frown. What could Jackal possibly want down there?

  She took a deep breath – now was surely the best time to go. Jackal was occupied with something most likely nefarious, as usual. She crept a little closer, making for some shadowed steps in front of a clothes shop, directly facing the alley on the other side of the street. From there she could see exactly what Jackal was up to, and hopefully answer that one burning question: did he know she was in Steiron?

  From her vantage point, she obviously couldn't hear a single word being said, but Karen was very good at reading a situation by sight alone, and thankfully the lamp post right next to the alley allowed her to see what she needed.

  At first she couldn't make out anything other than Jackal and the two others in a loose semi-circle, as if they were looking at something. Then their quarry tried to make a dash for it.

  The boy couldn't have been more than fourteen. He had the same roundish face and blond hair of so many born in the south; he'd probably grown up right here in Steiron. She could see him more clearly as he managed to weave past his hunters and scurried out onto the street.

  His grey jeans and simple white t-shirt were ripped and completely sodden. His blue eyes were terrified, and his body moved awkwardly, as if he was fatigued, perhaps too tired to run much farther.

  So it was a trap – but not for her. She held her breath as Jackal followed the teenager onto the street. The wind picked up, bringing a heavier rain with it, even more intense than before.

  She winced as Jackal lashed out quickly, punching the boy in the back. She knew how much force Jackal put into those strikes of his.

  The boy stumbled forwards, his cry of pain muffled in the pelting downfall, his knees and palms now grazed and bloody. The two thugs with Jackal stepped forwards, one of them with a short flick knife in one hand.

  Karen rushed onto the street, almost without thought. She had no idea whether the big man intended to use the knife to hurt the boy, but decided not to wait. She spun and kicked the knife out of his hand with great precision. It was lost to sight in the darkness, sheets of water coming down all around them.

  The big man made some sort of unintelligible roar as he angrily rushed at her. Without pause, Karen grabbed his arm and kneed him hard in the groin. She grunted as the second man surprised her. It turned out he had a knife too, and it bit through the right arm of her denim jacket and into her skin.

  Karen half-turned and punched him directly in the throat, knowing she was bleeding. The man reeled over onto the floor and did not rise again. She spun into that devastating kick again as the first thug came at her once more. She struck him in the head this time, bowling him over. Karen had made sure the kick hit his temple, and his still, unconscious form told her she'd found her mark.

  The teenager had made good his escape down the road. Even at his tired pace he was almost at the end, near the corner which led into the market square. She could do nothing for him now though. She'd just thrown away the last three years, all to save some random's life. Her body was tense, her clothes drenched. She clenched her fists in readiness as Jackal stepped into the road.

  He was close, only a matter of feet away. Karen met his green-eyed stare, working hard to keep her fear under control. Her shoulders rose and fell as she watched him, breathing heavily.

  Karen didn't say anything and neither did he. Trying to blink the rain from her eyes, she glanced at the engraved metal medallion hanging at Jackal's chest. Of course he had it, why wouldn't he?

  The moment came, Jackal made the lunge she'd been expecting. Karen swerved sideways and into a dead run, rushing the way she had come, towards the cafe and away from the boy she had saved.

  Karen wasn't sure what she was doing. She didn't have a plan or an escape route. She tried to stay calm, tried not to think what would follow if Jackal caught her. She only had one thing to cling to: the rain. It might just be her saving grace. She was at a huge disadvantage as long as Jackal had his medallion, but if she could outrun him, he couldn't use its power to track her by scent, not in this kind of downpour.

  Karen sped up the street and past the cafe, hoping Jackal wouldn't use the medallion that he wore. Over the last three years he'd chased her more than once, but he never used the large, blood-red coin. He wanted to beat her on his own merit, in a fair fight. She knew it was just a game to him; he could overpower her using the magic talisman any time he liked. As long as he insisted on keeping it fair though, she had a chance of escaping and disappearing once more.

  When Karen reached the first turn she took it. She gained ground quickly, she'd always been faster than Jackal. She knew the area fairly well – it was the first thing she always did when she came to a new place. She learned the area, the different routes that interconnected. When she'd put enough space between Jackal and herself the route she took became more purposeful.

  There was a car repair garage located on a wide side street which was always padlocked with a high, wire gate at night. The street was only ever used by vehicles coming in for repairs – it was private property.

  As was always the case, there were a couple of cars sat there. The rain had let up somewhat but she thought she could still pull this off.

  She charged at the wire fence, leaping into it. making as much noise as possible. Then she turned and dove under the nearest car just in time. She panted silently as Jackal appeared on the wide street. His attention went straight to the gate. He didn't pause for an instant, leaping over the top of it with ease.

  After he'd disappeared, Karen counted to sixty before crawling out from her hiding place beneath the car. Attempting to brush off her soggy jeans before standing her full height, Karen had already decided she wasn't going home just yet. There was one more thing she had to do. Backtracking to the street where the cafe stood and passing it quickly, she made her way down to where the tarmac gave way to uneven, slippery cobbles.

  The wooden market stalls were still there with their array of stripy roof coverings. All of the traders had gone home, of course, and the coarse tables stood bare. But, as she was hoping, there was one person there, huddled in the far corner of the market.

  When Karen had first seen the boy, and noted how wet and tired he was, she'd realised she'd encountered an ongoing hunt. Now, as she'd suspected, he had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and was taking what meagre shelter he could from the stalls.

  She approached him slowly, giving him plenty of time to see her. Karen knew what he must be feeling. She could relate, after all. She knew what it was like to be chased by Sarpiens and have nowhere to turn.

  The boy had indeed spotted her and retreated from under the wooden stall, backing away into the rain.

  Karen raised her hands in a peaceful gesture as she drew nearer. ‘I'm not going to hurt you.’

  ‘What do you want?

  His voice sounded shrill to Karen, and the tough note he was trying to put on was obviously very forced.

  She tried to smile reassuringly, not something she could recall ever having done in her life before. She found herself thinking again that she wasn't cut out to be around kids. ‘I just want to talk.’

  ‘I've got nothing to talk about!’

  His voice was savage, but Karen could see his face contorting as he tried to hold back his tears.

  ‘Is that so?’ she kept her voice level, soft. The last thing she wanted was to scare him off ‘Then why was Jackal chasing you?’

  ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘I know what it's like to be chased by Sarpiens,’ Karen made sure she held his gaze, hoping the feeling behind her words would reach him. ‘That's why I helped you.’

  The teenager stared back, saying nothing.

  Karen extended one hand out to him. ‘Come on, we have to get away from here, before Jackal finds us.’

  The boy's gaze lowered. He continued to look at her hand for a good few seconds before lifting his eyes once more to meet hers. Karen knew she didn't looked brilliant right now, with her sodden clothes and dripping hair. Her face didn't know how to look trustful; she'd spent too much time running, and before that, far too much time fighting.

  The boy reached out to her nonetheless. She smiled at him again and led him away from there, and hopefully away from Jackal for good.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Karen turned her key in the lock and pushed open the unassuming, brown, wooden door to her flat. She looked back at the weary teenager who was clinging to the tall, plaster banister at the top of the stairs.

  He'd done extremely well under the circumstances. He was dead on his feet but had followed her across the town centre and up the three flights of stairs to get here, and all without a single complaint.

  Karen worried about that. She thought that perhaps the boy was ill, traumatised maybe. Probably; who wouldn't be? She beckoned for him to follow her and stepped into her home.

  She turned to face him as he walked reluctantly into the small living space. She'd purposefully rented a flat which came fully furnished, so it looked presentable, but she hoped the boy wouldn't be alarmed by the striking omissions of other homes.

  The teenager was obviously already noticing them, however. His eyes were darting around the room and had already been drawn to the empty bookcases and cabinets. There was a distinct lack of anything sentimental such as photo frames, pictures of art or other collectibles.

  ‘I'm Karen,’ she said now that they were safe and out of the rain.

  The boy continued to look around in his drenched clothes, not meeting her gaze.

  Undaunted, Karen walked into her bedroom, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she opened her wardrobe. She needed to give the boy something else to wear, but she didn't have much. Karen eventually picked out a pair of black jogging bottoms and a light-blue t-shirt. She put them on her bed and took a clean towel out of a nearby drawer. Placing that on the bed too Karen rejoined her quiet guest.

  ‘I've left some clothes and a towel on the bed. Why don't you go change?’

  The boy didn't respond, completely numb.

  ‘It's better than dripping all over my carpet,’ she added light-heartedly, ‘and you'll feel better once you're dry.’

  Karen found herself at a complete loss because the teenager still offered no reaction to her words. She wondered what to do; she didn't have a clue how to relate or how to reassure him that he was safe.

  The boy moved, to Karen's relief, shuffling over to the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

  She hissed through her teeth as she moved her right arm. Looking down, she saw the tear in the sleeve of her jacket. The adrenaline had left her body, and now she could feel the knife wound.

  She stepped into her tiny kitchen and ran the cold tap. After removing her right glove, she unbuttoned the sleeve of her denim jacket. She really needed to get out of her wet clothes too, but that could wait. She peeled the wet denim off her skin and rolled the sleeve up to her elbow.

  Ignoring several old scars running at different angles across her skin, she took a cloth and dampened it. Slowly she started to tend the wound. It had gone a little deeper than she'd expected, and when she cleared away the dried blood it started to bleed again.

  She muttered under her breath, irritated that it needed more than just a general clean-up. She left the now bloody cloth by the sink and rummaged in the draw next to her, trying to find something to bandage it.

  She found nothing – a definite oversight, having no bandages. She'd remember that mistake. For now, she took a clean cloth from the draw and ripped it up. She wrapped it around the cut on the side of her forearm and tied it the best she could with one hand.

  It became bloody almost immediately, but she was done with it for now. The cut wasn't that deep. It'd stop in a few minutes she was sure. She rolled her sleeve down again, not bothering to button it up, and put her right glove back on before filling her kettle with water from the tap.

  She flicked the on button and turned away, letting it boil. She stopped in surprise. The teenager was stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

  He was now in dry clothes and had run the towel through his short, blond hair as well. His eyes were haunted and his expression was not one of sorrow or anger, but that blank gaze one sometimes displayed when in shock.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said out of the blue, meeting Karen's eyes timidly. ‘You saved my life.’

  Karen smiled, happy he had finally spoke. ‘Why don't you make yourself comfy on the sofa? I want to get into some dry clothes too.’

  He nodded and turned away. She noted he still had that same depressed, shambling gait. Something awful had happened to him, Karen was sure. She thought that maybe it was a bit more than just being chased by Sarpiens.

  As she entered her bedroom and closed the door, avoiding the sodden clothes the teenager had left on her floor, her mind ran through the possibilities.

  The boy could perhaps have been a slave. The Sarpiens had numerous prisoners, carving out new underground tunnels for them. Karen thought this wasn't the case though. The boy's clothes had been a little ripped but not damaged, old or dirty enough to have spent time toiling underground.

  A potential? She mused thoughtfully. The Sarpiens picked out certain children and trained them ready to become Sarpiens themselves. Those children were always very young and not allowed to see the light of day until the snake was on their left arm. The boy's skin looked normal, not the pallid quality potentials normally portrayed.

  Karen changed quickly into a clean pair of jeans and another black, leather vest, almost identical to the one she'd been wearing before. This one had a different neckline; it dipped slightly where her old one had been more of a round neck.

  She picked out a second denim jacket and put it on, adjusting it so the sleeves overlapped with the gloves she still wore.

  She put a small brush through her straight hair, untangling it. There was only one other possibility concerning the teenager. When she left her bedroom behind and looked over at the boy who was sat rigidly on the small, brown sofa, waiting for her appearance, Karen glanced down at his left arm.

  It was quite unnecessary. If what she feared had been there, she would've already seen it. There was no snake. This teenager was not a Sarpien, and had never been one. He was an innocent.

  The kettle finished boiling and Karen turned towards the sound. ‘Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Karen smiled as she stepped into the kitchen. He was starting to find his voice, that was something.

  ‘How do you take it?’ she asked, taking two cups out of the cupboard just above her head.

  ‘Milk, one sugar.’ His voice seemed stronger now, the sullen, hopeless tone had dissipated a tiny bit.

  Karen finished preparing the drinks and brought them in, using one foot to hook forward a small table that had been against the wall. She set down the drinks and sat across from him in an easy chair.

  The boy picked up the cup of steaming tea, seeming to enjoy the warmth of it in his hands. He glanced at her before staring at the mottled grey and brown carpet again.

  ‘I'm Jay Morgan,’ he told her quickly.

  Karen sent him a reassuring smile, hoping it was working. ‘I'm Karen Fireirro, It's a pleasure to meet you.’

  Jay didn't say anything else, and on an impulse, Karen went to her window to look out at the street three floors below. The flat was not as far away from the town centre as she would've liked. She'd sought a place of residence near the centre quite purposefully when she'd arrived in West Sector Steiron, but now that she knew Jackal was here, she wished she lived much further away.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Jay asked her timidly.

  Karen looked at him in puzzlement. ‘Do?’

  ‘Jackal will...kill you for helping me.’

  Karen met his gaze. His words told her much. He'd stumbled on the word ‘kill’. It was not a word he liked, not a word he was used to saying with such seriousness. No, this boy wasn't a slave or potential. This was all new to him; he wasn't used to thinking about Sarpiens or about life and death.

  ‘Well,’ she said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood ‘Jackal has to find me first.’

  ‘Don't joke about it! He's dangerous!’

  Surprised by his outburst, Karen raised her hands in a calming gesture and sat back in her chair. ‘All right, Jay, I'm sorry. You just seem very tense. You should relax a little, you're safe here.’

  Jay shook his head stubbornly. ‘I'm not safe anywhere.’

  Karen stopped her amusement from showing. That sounded like something she'd say. ‘Where's your family, Jay? Why were you out in town by yourself in the rain?’

  Jay didn't reply. He looked down at the carpet, withdrawing inside himself again. Karen decided not to push. She picked up her tea and drank, ignoring the ache of the knife wound on her arm.

  Her mind was racing, however. If Jay wasn't a factor, she'd already be packing up her things. She knew she was wasting time, knew she was in danger.

  Jackal wouldn't rest knowing she was in Steiron. At this very second he would be prowling the streets, trying to track her down. Her throat tightened as she thought about it. She looked back to Jay and found him staring at her.

  ‘What should I do?.I...don't know what to do, or where to go.’

  ‘Well,’ Karen replied slowly. ‘I suppose the answers to those questions depend on why you're being chased.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jay looked down at the floor again. He had so much going through his head, he could barely think. Every time he thought he'd pieced together enough to ask a question or think about what to do, his brain took him straight back to the beginning, when Jackal had shown up at his house.

  His fists clenched and unclenched convulsively, wanting it all to go away. He was in a terrible nightmare and would wake up at any second. He blinked tiredly, still not looking up at the strange lady who'd been so kind to him.