Broken City

Chapter Twenty Four

The car pulls up outside the house; Tom notices the wisteria in all its majestic glory draping the frame of the veranda in softly scented purple flowers as the door is opened by Mari.

“Hello, Rea.”

“Tom!” Mari pulls him over the threshold and embraces him wordlessly, she had known him since he was a sad and frightened ten year old boy, with polite manners and quiet ways—he would always have the place of a son in her heart.

“Which one of the girls is with Rye?”

“Deeta, why what’s wrong?”

Tom feels the weight of depression settle on his shoulders.

A small figure bursts into the hall and cannons into him; Dec winds his arm’s tightly around Tom’s waist and buries his head against his side, Tom can feel the trembling of his body. Mari sees a few anxious lines disappear from Tom’s face as he looks down at the boys dark head, she turns away slightly fighting the tears that wish to course down her face. Tom has always reminded her forcibly of Dax, much more so than Ryder although his features too were incredibly similar to Dax. But Ryder was Ryder; in the armed guard at twelve he had received even less affection and guidance than Tom. It had hardened him, given him a cold, cynical and mistrustful edge that was unsoftened. Tom was different—like Dax was different—he understood that love was not a weakness, but rather a strength.

“Miss me did you?” Tom smiles and rests his hand on the boys dark, curly hair, Dec’s only answer is a muffled half sob and to tighten his hold.

“Come on, Dec, I need to sit down—then you can tell me all about your adventure.”

Tom passes his arm around Dec’s slight shoulders and walks with him into the sitting room. Jan is curled up in an arm chair, resplendent in shimmering violet.

“Hiya, Tommy,” her voice is lazily welcoming as though she had seen him just a few hours before and saw nothing remarkable in seeing him again, he smiles.

“Hello, Jan.”

His eyes move past her to Keya who is perched nervously on the edge of her seat, any anger or irritation that he might have felt disappears. She seems thinner, her hands fidget with a red curl that has lost its patina of health and her lips are bloodlessly pale, blending in with her milky skin.

“Hello, Keya.”

“Hello, Tom,” her voice trembles uncertainly and her eyes meet his only briefly before sliding away.

Tom settles into the soft cushions, one arm hugging Dec to him, with his eyes fixed firmly on Jan.

“What’s going on?”

“You want me to start from the beginning?” she asks.

“It seems like the best place to me,” replies Tom.

Jan takes a deep breath.

“After you left the compound the Andak’s attacked us, Deeta and I ran but we were captured and brought here—forcibly.”

Here she pauses to raise her hand to touch the back of her still tender head and she drily continues.

“I don’t remember arriving, I was still out cold but when I did come round it was with a splitting headache and I was in a strange room all by myself. I could hear some sort of commotion in the next room and so I unscrewed the leg from the table and went to find out what it was. Deeta was struggling with a man and so I bashed him over the head. As it turned out he was your brother Ryder. Deeta had pretended that she didn’t know who you were, but he knew she was lying when I told him we knew you, “ she raises her hand. “I know, I know—clever Jan, anyway Deeta told me that you had a traitor in the family and she wasn’t sure if we should trust him; so we decided to test him. Deeta told him that she would take him, and only him, to you. They’re out there now in a random building with Deeta pointing a gun at his head; if Andak troops turn up, he’s a bad guy, if they don’t I guess we trust him.”