City of Thorns by C.N. Crawford

Lila

“Lila!” they shouted. “Got a message, don’t we?”

It looked like I’d be taking the fast route to the music hall, then. Breaking into an all-out sprint, my feet pounded the cobbles, echoing off the buildings around me.

Even as my lungs burned and my legs ached, I knew I was going to run until I collapsed, and died, or reached the music hall. Because I would not be losing any parts of my face tonight. I was rather attached to them.

Heaving for breath, I sprinted up Savage Lane. Here, the shops were shuttered for the night, windows dark. I still had ten streets to go.

As I ran, the sound of my breath formed a rhythm along with my feet.

Nine streets.

When I was a kid, my sister Alice and I played a game: we’d run through the alleys pretending a phantom called Skin-Monster Trevor was chasing us. I’m not sure where Alice got the name, but I imagined him as terrifying. If he caught us, he’d leave behind nothing but a pile of bloody bones. I could almost hear Alice’s voice in my mind, telling me to run. Lila! Trevor’s coming for you! He’ll kill you!

Only it wasn’t a phantom chasing me now. It was real flesh and blood men who wanted to carve me up.

My gaze darted across the street, where a narrow alley jutted off from the main road between abandoned shops. I veered into it.

From behind, the gang’s boots pounded the stones.

With burning lungs, I careened out of the mouth of the alley onto Magpie Court—a cramped little street lined with slum houses, where everything stank of piss and old fish.

Almost there… almost to Bibliotek …

“Stop running, little pussycat!” they shouted from behind me. “Lovely Lila!”

What a charmer. But I wasn’t about to stop and deliver myself into their hands, was I?

I turned the corner. Ahead of me, gas lamps lit the road with wavering light. This was Cock Row, so named because it bordered a park of shadowy trees, where the bunters worked—the street whores. Opposite the park, the enormous music hall stretched out over the entire square.

I was almost to the doors now. I stole a glance over my shoulder and relief flooded me.

No sign of the Rough Boys. I’d lost them again. Ha! Slow bastards.

I actually laughed with relief. Not bad, Lila. Not bad at all.

With my hand on the doorknob, I glanced up at the Bibliotek Music Hall, at the beaming windows crowded with dancing people. Three stories of red brick rose up before me. On the first floor, a stone facade had once been painted a vibrant red, but now it had faded and peeled into something more beautiful. I liked it that way. Music pulsed through the walls, brassy and booming. This decadent place had everything I could ever want.

Except, apparently, a very key feature right now: a way in.

I tried to turn the doorknob again, and a tendril of dread curled through me. Locked.

My heart thudded against my ribs. Why was the door locked? Was someone having a laugh?

No, everyone loved me in Bibliotek. Finn or one of the other doormen must’ve closed it down to take a piss, which was distinctly bad timing as far I was concerned.

I banged on the door. “Hello? Finn? Anyone?”

When they didn’t answer, I shoved my hand into my pocket for my lock picks. But before I could get started, my stomach lurched. Boots thumped on cobbles.

The Rough Boys were running down the narrow pathway, gunning for me. A whole pack of them now; they’d brought reinforcements.

My gaze flicked to the torches that hung from the reddish stone, and I grabbed one of them.

As I held it out at them, its warmth beamed over my face. “Step back!” I shouted.

Smoke billowed before my face.

The turpentine they reeked of—from their ship—was in fact very flammable. The whale oil, too.

A pair of cutthroats stepped from the pack. The one on the right was a good foot taller than the other, but both were pure muscle, both had shaggy blond curls. They might even be brothers.

I whirled. As they tried to surround me, I used the flaming torch to try to keep them at bay.

The tall one raised his hands, though he didn’t actually look one bit afraid of the fire. “Easy there, darling. All we need is two thousand crowns.”

“Oh that’s all, is it? That’s about a year’s rent!”

One of the men behind him said, “Your mum borrowed it from Diamond Danny, and he charges interest. And time’s up now, isn’t it?”

Another of Mum’s terrible decisions coming home to roost.

The smoke curled around my eyes, making it hard to see.

Shorty pulled out a curved dagger and twirled it against his fingertips. “Since you can’t pay up, we will need to send your mum a message so she understands the severe-ious-ness of the situation, as it were.”

I swung the torch before them, trying to ward them off. Plumes of smoke filled the air.

“Don’t worry doll,” one of them said. “We’ll just be taking a few bits of you with us. Flesh tokens. Nose and a few other bits.”

Where the hell was Finn?If I lost my nose because he was having a crack at one of the barmaids, I’d haunt his sleep every night till he died.

“I’ll get you the money,” I stalled. “I promise. I just don’t have it right now.”

The tall one grinned, giving me an unfortunate view of his rotten teeth. “Courtesan, are ya? Too pretty to be one of them street bunters. Won’t get much work without a nose though, will ya? Bit of a pickle.”

I gritted my teeth. “Has it ever occurred to you that this city needs a new banking system with more reasonable penalties?”

Shorty nodded at me. “Nah, she’s not a courtesan. Lila’s a dock thief isn’t she? Steals from the ships. Little magpie. Works for Ernald.”

I didn’t want to drag my boss into this. “Don’t worry about Ernald. I’ll get you your money in no time.”

I had no idea how. I just needed time to think of something.

The tall one shook his head and pulled out another, longer knife. “Sure, but we’ll need a few bits of your face to get the message across to everyone. Your mum. Ernald. Otherwise, every beggar in Dovren will mess Diamond Danny around, won’t they? Think they can borrow money without paying it back. He don’t like people making him into a mug. So we’ve gotta send a message, take a few pieces of you with us. A few flesh tokens.”

Now, all my muscles had gone totally rigid, and fear twisted my stomach. “Please stop saying ‘flesh tokens.’ It is a deeply unpleasant phrase.” I swung the torch in an arc. They leaned back a little. “Deeply unpleasant.”

“Easy there, little doll,” the tall one said in a soothing tone. His knife flashed in the torchlight.

“Finn?” I shouted again, panic ringing in my voice. “Anyone?”

The music from inside was drowning me out.

The tall Rough Boy started moving away from the other, and my blood roared in my ears. I couldn’t keep them both at bay with the torch forever. It would only take one of them to grab me from behind.

Think fast.

I pulled the cheap whiskey from my pocket, took a searing sip, then blew on the torch. With the alcohol on my breath, a burst of flame exploded in their direction.

I didn’t stick around to watch him go up in flames, but I did hear his screams. I pivoted, then kicked the door as hard as I could. I’d hoped to break it open, but instead my foot went through the old wood. Splinters rained around it, but it remained shut. Locked.

The smaller Rough Boy slung his arm around my throat from behind, squeezing. I dropped the torch on the pavement. I elbowed him twice in the ribs, as hard as I could. When he released his grip, I brought my elbow up hard into his jaw. Then I shoved my hand through the broken door, unlatching the dead bolt from inside.

I bolted up the stairs and into a music hall crowded with dancers, and the raucous sound of horns and a bass drum. No one had even noticed the scene outside. I elbowed and shoved my way through the crowd as hard as I could.

In here, the ceiling towered high above us. The lurid colors once painted on the inside of the place had faded, sedate now. Velvet curtains draped from a towering stage. High above me, candles hung in chandeliers. Two stories of balconies swept around overhead, private rooms where only East Dovren’s fanciest denizens were allowed entry.

And all around me, people danced in their best clothes, faces beaming with happiness. The Bibliotek band was playing on the stage, a trumpeter blaring a solo.

I turned back to the entry, hoping that they’d given up.

But, no. My stomach sank. Three of them had barged in, eyes trained on me.

I needed to find my friend Zahra—fast.