Timekeeper Tales

Dex asked a lot of questions, but it did help Thomas understand what the boy was interested in. Still, his focus fixated on his last question.

“Henry’s the worst.” He didn’t hesitate before answering that one. “Older kid, kinda tall, blue eyes, smiles but real... sharp-like. Keep your head down, stay outta his way. Don’t bother him — don’t go near him — he won’t bother you. He’s the kinda bloke who’ll snap your fingers if you cross him once, and he’ll break a lot more than that if you’re dense enough to cross him twice. Same goes for the rest of his gang. But he’s the worst a’the worst. Lisson Grove belongs to him. Him and his bloody Slanters.”

It was a touchy subject for Thomas, who had once worked for Henry. Who still did tasks for Henry secretly, when the Bandits were barely scraping by. They needed to survive somehow. And Henry had money. So Thomas got it for them, though he never said where those particular shillings came from.

“Anyway.” He scowled and pulled a coin from his pocket once more, rolling it over his knuckles again. The kid had asked other questions, but it took a moment for Thomas’ thoughts and temper to settle down enough to remember them. He spoke as quickly as ever, though. “I ain’t got the slightest idea who or what kidsnatchers are, so no. Pranks... it ain’t pranks so much as tricks and dares. They’ll try challenging you, see if you’ve got the mettle to stay.”

The hybrid watched Roscuro wander the shop, picking up the various things he needed and setting them down near it. It wasn’t sure what many of those items were….but it did recognize some of them. Bandages were something it was familiar with….and it could smell the sharp scent of the antiseptic even through the bottle. It inclined it’s head a bit before Roscuro sat down, taking a whiff of the water before leaning back when the young man tried to inch forward.

A half snarl lifted it’s lips when Roscuro spoke, a rumbling of a growl in the back of it’s throat. It remembered those items…..remembered that they hurt, and that they were used by the ones that Created it…the White Coats……but….but this boy(?) didn’t smell like the White Coats. Didn’t act like them. Was it okay for the Hybrid to trust him? Narrowed golden eyes watched the other as they tried to look at it more closely…..before it clicked.

Oh.

This young man wanted to clean it up. Wanted to…..fix it? Was that the right word? It didn’t know. But it did know that…..it had watched other creatures get hurt and then die…outside the White Walls and within them. And it was injured. It…..it did not want to die.

Roscuro was trying to help it stay alive. The snarl faded, the growl dieing to a low constant grumble…much like the sound it had made when the other had freed it from the trap….but then it did something that was unexpected, something that Roscuro likely didn’t believe it could.

“…..okay.”

It spoke. The word was strained…..raspy sounding as if it had not used it’s voice much….or couldn’t use it. It sounded as if it hurt to do….but it didn’t know the body language for yes. It knew that a head-shake meant no….but it didn’t know what a nod meant. It did know what the word Okay meant so that’s what it went for. It wasn’t stupid, and it wasn’t some feral creature either.

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Roscuro stared at the hybrid in shock for a moment when it spoke. A grin crossed his face, excitement in his expression. “Hey. You can talk.” A pause. Then, his tone grateful and genuine, “Thank you for trusting me. I’ll try to be quick.”

Each movement careful, he moved forwards. He wanted to comfort the hybrid in any way he could. So, as he gently cleaned and wrapped its wounds, he spoke. His voice was soft and slow. He didn’t mind if it didn’t understand every word. He hoped the sound would be enough to distract from any discomfort.

“Have you ever heard of Reynard the Fox? He’s a character in fables and folklore, the kinds with talking animals and whatnot. My friend Evelyn told me about him. She’s from France, and a kind old woman she once knew there used to tell her many stories about the trickster fox and his adventures. In France, his nickname is renard,” and here Roscuro’s voice softened even more as he pronounced the word properly, “and his stories are so well-known there that renard replaced their word for ‘fox’.

“He isn’t the best, morally-speaking, but he’s cunning. He plays tricks on people to survive and to entertain himself. The other animals try to capture him for his crimes, but he always fools and outsmarts them. It’s sort of like... cleverness over strength. I always thought he was so interesting. You remind me of him in some ways.”

He didn’t miss the boy’s tensing, recalling, a bit too late, that Thomas…He didn’t much like being touched, if at  all.

Alex definitely didn’t expect that outbreak, not in the slightest and he was taken aback, stopping for a moment as the boy spoke on, each  word more hurtful than the last one, clearly purposely so, as Thomas avoided even looking at him as he walked on.

“Right,” the thief nodded, catching up with him a moment later. “I didn’ realize you felt quite that way.” He sounded calm, each  word measured, though they both knew Thomas had, in fact, achieved his purpose here-Alex’s clipped tone was proof enough, as he was still trying not to attract any unwanted attention. “I know you think  you’re usin’ me…I’m lettin’ you do that, because it was the only  way I could get you to accept help which we both know you needed,” he said evenly. “I was like that when I was your age too…an’ it nearly got me killed, so you know…any means to an end if it meant gettin’ you things you needed,” he shrugged quietly. “I apologize if I read more into this than I should’ve.”

“You’ve no reason to outrun me,” he added a moment later, turning  around to walk away  from Thomas. “The name of the buyer is in that pouch. Make sure he doesn’ try to swindle you into acceptin’ less than the deal was, he is exceedingly  good at doin’ that,” he advised as he walked away,in the same direction the policemen, still loitering down the street, were going. Thomas wouldn’t follow him back that  way, he was sure.

——————————————————————————

The man’s clipped tone sent a cruel spark of pride through the boy, a smirk crossing his face. Good. His comments had their intended effect. But at the same time, something cold and hollow twisted inside him when Alex turned around.

He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth, forcing that unwanted feeling of guilt back down. He wasn’t ashamed or sorry for anything he’d said. He’d meant it. He’d gotten too close to Alex their time together. He’d needed to re-establish that sense of distance between them. It was the only way to stay safe, to avoid showing weakness. “Friendship” with an adult was a trap for the weak.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed through his teeth. And before he could stop himself, he spun around and called out. “Wait—” The single word tasted bitter and dishonest. He immediately regretted not remaining silent. He clenched his fists at his sides, the pouch crinkling in one hand. He wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes, his gaze fixed on the cobblestones between them.

“You know the buyer better than I do. You oughta come with me. Just to make sure the bloke pays the proper price.” And this was as close as Thomas would come to an apology for his harshness. Because he wasn’t really apologizing. He was just using Alex again. And if Alex wanted to sulk and insist on a more genuine apology, then that was just pathetic. What did he expect from a kid like Thomas?