The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Seventy-Six

They they were, waiting for them and smiling. One of them, a slight man with a head full of unruly curls, was leaning against the door frame and chewing on a clove.

"Gosh, it doesn't half pong in here, doesn't it?" A woman, the older one, pushed past him into the shop. "Well, lookie what we have here," she said, flicking back a long lock of grey hair. "Six little birdies sitting in their nest, just waiting for the cat to climb in."

Viridian stepped in front of Hope, lifting up his arms to hide the children behind him. "What do you want?"

She laughed at that, and the others joined in. "What do we want?" she said. "That's easy. We want what you have."

Viridian licked his lips. "Whatever you think we are, we're not. We're just trying to get by, and get out. Same as you."

"Get out? Oh, we're not trying to get out. There's nothing for us out of the city."

"There's nothing much for us here, either," said the man with the clove, but she lunged at him, and snapped her fingers, so that his smile disappeared.

She sniffed and trained her attention back on Viridian. "You love your daughters, sir? Your pretty little daughters, all dressed up in their fine gowns? I bet they smile when you give them presents. I bet you love to give them little gifts, just to see their smiles. Don't you, sir?" She pulled out a small knife. "Would you like me cut them a pair of smiles that'll stick?"

"Shut your filthy mouth," said Viridian before he could stop himself.

"Oh," breathed the woman. "Did you hear that boys? Daddy here thinks we should leave his little kiddie-winks alone. Well, perhaps we should. I'm rather taking a fancy to Mum here. What do you think of her Side?"

Another man stepped forward. Viridian supposed this was Mister Side. "Aye, I'd give that a go."

Viridian lurched forward, but Hope grabbed him, holding him back. "Don't," she whispered.

She was right. That wasn't the way to handle it. He couldn't fight them off. He hadn't been in a fight since he was a kid. He wielded brushes, not blades.

"Take this," he said, holding up his purse. "Our bags are worthless. Clothes. Paintings. You don't want them."

"Paintings?" said the older woman. "Like the type they have in fancy houses. Don't tell me they're not worth a pretty pile of gold."

"Do you know a collector? They'll be hard to offload, believe you me. I have enough trouble and I'm the one who painted them." He bounced the bag in his palm so that the coins jingled. "Come on now, take the money. Make this easy on yourself."

All eyes were on the bag, watching it hungrily.

"You want it?" he asked, bouncing it again. "Then catch," he said, and lobbed it, so that it flew high above their heads and out into the street. They turned, their eyes never leaving the bag.

"Let's go," said Viridian, grabbing hold of Blossom's elbow and hurrying them all in the other direction. They rushed around the counter, heading towards the back of the shop. He was searching for the back door. All these shops had little yards behind them. There had to be one. Because if he didn't they were all dead.

Behind the counter was a tiny room. Table, chair, and shelves, ransacked of their contents. And beyond them, a door. Someone had even left it invitingly open. He held it as he hurried the others through, grabbing a chair as he followed them.

"What are you doing?" asked Ochre.

"Making sure they don't follow us," he said, shoving the chair under the door handle. "Right, let's go. Time to run."