I was rudely awoken by a knock at the door.
Sitting bolt upright, cursing as morning light lanced through the window and into my brain, scorching my eyes along the way, I was irritated by a second knock. Urgent. I climbed from the bed, hopping to the door as I pulled on my trousers.
The jenkem dream rattled around my brain like the pieces of a shattered mirror. I’d put them together later. Lana had already left my lodgings without waking me, as was her way, as we both preferred it. We didn’t like facing our dysfunctional relationship with sobriety.
I reached the door and yanked it open, interrupting a third bout of frantic knocking. ‘What?’
Nel rushed into my lodgings, bringing with her a waft of bad air from the corridor. She slammed the door shut and pushed her back flat against it, pressing a finger to her lips, wide-eyed and panicked. Moments passed, and I gave her a look that hinted I wasn’t in the mood for a lack of explanation.
‘I just got home from Mutley’s,’ she said quietly. ‘But when I got upstairs—’
She cut herself short as footsteps approached. Nel flinched as something hard rapped on the door behind her, and a voice that carried a sneer shouted, ‘Rent!’
‘Stadham,’ Nel whispered fearfully. ‘I don’t have any money, Wendal.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Nel.’ I grabbed my shirt from the floor and put it on before shoving Nel out of the way and opening the door so it hid her presence.
Mr Stadham, our small and venal landlord, greeted me with a leering yellow smile. ‘Morning, sunshine.’
The tone of his voice set my teeth on edge. I caught another waft of bad air out in the corridor. It was coming from the communal latrine on this floor.
‘Can you smell that?’ I said.
Stadham sniffed the air and expressed disgust. ‘Yeah, something’s off.’
‘It’s the stink pipe. It’s blocked again.’
Another smile full of stained teeth. ‘Ooh, someone really should fix that.’
Stadham was a brittle man with a pinched face and squinty eyes like a carrion monster on the wasteland, always on the hunt for easy pickings. He wore a thick coat that practically drowned a body that couldn’t have comprised more than thin skin stretched over fragile bones like a bag of rattlesticks. His hair was silver and slicked back. His arthritic fingers were curled around the head of his walking stick, which I had always assumed was made from bone.
He looked me up and down impatiently. He wasn’t alone. Flanking him were his two bodyguards. He referred to them as his nieces. I could see the family resemblance to each other, but not to the scrawny old bastard standing between them. They looked mean, though; hard faces carrying the trophies of many fights. Their clothes were dark and loose, plain but roomy enough for easy manoeuvring. Their jackets could easily conceal weapons. Knuckles calloused, hair shaved short, expressions dispassionate, they never spoke. Always ready for orders, the nieces were Stadham’s Tamara.
‘Why am I still waiting?’ Even the most genial person would find it easy to grab Stadham by the back of his head and ram his smug face into the wall. ‘Chop-chop!’
I made to go and fetch my rent money, but Stadham laid the end of his walking stick on my shoulder and cast a suspicious gaze into the room behind me.
‘Seen that bitch from upstairs?’ he said. ‘I think you call her Nel.’
I resisted the urge to snatch the walking stick and break it over his head. ‘No.’
‘Funny how she’s always so aloof on rent day, don’t you think?’
‘She’s probably trying to get away from the smell of the latrine.’
Stadham chuckled. ‘I’m beginning to take her absences personally, and … well, it’d break my heart if I had to evict her.’
The nieces bristled, and I could almost feel Nel holding her breath behind the door.
‘Yeah, that’d be a damn shame,’ I said sourly.
Stadham’s yellow smile became thin. ‘Seeing as you two are such great mates, maybe you could cover her. Like you did last week. Up to you, of course.’ He removed the walking stick from my shoulder. ‘Off you go.’
Grinding my teeth, I pushed the door to so I could get to my jacket hanging on the hook on the other side. I fished forty bits from its pocket and gave Nel a glare while I was hidden by the door. She wrung her hands together, mouthing, ‘I’m sorry,’ and, ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’
Stadham looked disappointed when I paid up for us both, like he had been hoping for a reason to give his nieces some exercise. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll see you next week, then.’
‘Fix the stink pipe.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Come on, girls.’
They left, I closed the door, and Nel tackled me with a hug, saying, ‘I promise I’ll pay you back,’ before I had chance to utter anything scathing.
From out in the hallway came the muffled sound of Mr Stadham rattling his walking stick against someone else’s door. I had a bastard of a headache.
Nel watched as I moved to the basin and splashed water on my face. She smiled sweetly. ‘It’s funny if you think about it.’
‘Hilarious.’
‘I’ll make it up to you, Wendal.’
‘Like you did last time?’ I huffed – more from resignation than any genuine anger – and dried my face while giving my mind a moment to catch up with itself. ‘Actually, there is something you can do for me. Are you busy tonight?’
Nel’s appreciation evaporated into a more defensive stance. ‘I’m seeing Mutley.’
‘Can you spare me a couple of hours first?’
A frown came next. ‘Why?’
‘You know Temple University?’
‘Maybe.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Big building with towers in Scholars Gate. You’d have to be blind to miss it, or stupid—’
‘Fine! I know it.’
‘Good. Meet me there tonight, first dark.’
‘Why?’
‘I need you to break into it for me.’
‘I hate you, Wendal.’