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Chapter Text

Cronus paced anxiously up and down the cramped little corridor that was set aside for the student well-being services.

“I don’t know why I have to see the fucking counsellor,” he had snarled at his form tutor an hour ago, but her sly answer of:

“If you don’t, we’ll have to suspend you. Would you like to explain that to… your father?” had cowed him.

She fucking knew what she was doing, he thought as he paced, the indignity of it all curling his hands into fists, she knew I’d have to agree.

“Ahem.” Cronus whipped round at the prim little sound – but it was only the receptionist for the well-being services, a tall, skinny man with mis-matched lenses in his glasses.

The receptionist clearly wanted Cronus to stop pacing and infecting the other waiting students with his nerves – so naturally he muttered a belligerent “whatever” and continued to pace; purposefully knocking a stack of leaflets flying with his jacket as he made a dramatic turn at the end of the corridor.

The secretary stared for a moment, then raised one tapered middle-finger before turning back to his computer screens.

“Ampora. Cronus.”

The voice that called him was low, and strangely dangerous… like dads. And yet when he turned to see the councillor there was none of his father’s cunning or cruelty in the lines of his face. 

Instead, the face that greeted him was broad and honest – and the deep furrow between the counsellor’s thick brows was offset by the laughter lines meeting at the corner of his dark eyes.

“Come in, please.” The tone said it was an order, but if so it was given warmly.

Cronus brushed past the man who – while broad of shoulder, was almost a head shorter than Cronus, a fact that delighted him more than perhaps it should – and threw himself down on the ancient armchair set aside for students.

“So. Cronus. What did you do to offend my colleague Mr Captor?”

“Who-?“ The receptionist. Idiot. Wait how did he know-? Doesn’t matter. “Nothing.”

The counsellor smiled, or at least, showed his teeth; what should have been a harmless expression sending an involuntary shiver down Cronus’ back, “You’re a bad liar, Cronus.”

(You’re a bad fucking liar, do you hear me? Next time someone comes sniffing round you kept your trap shut or else.)

Cronus bristled.

“No I’m not.”

“Argumentative too.” The counsellor’s grin only widened at Cronus’ anger. “Nice to meet you Cronus, my name is Mr Vantas, and I will be your counsellor this term.”

*

“So as I gather, you’ve been pulled out of classes for antisocial behaviour-”

Cronus only snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. Being in the too-small room with such an annoyingly astute man was making his hackles rise.

“Antisocial behaviour including violent outbursts, compulsive lying, ignoring personal boundaries, and making inappropriate comments directed at … anyone and everyone, really.”

“So what are you going to do?” Cronus drawled, trying his best to sound bored, but the involuntary tapping of his foot belied his anxiety.

“Do?” Mr Vantas laughed unexpectedly, a harsh bark of a laugh that did nothing to put Cronus at ease. “I’m the counsellor; I’m not going to do anything. We are, however, going to have a talk every other day for a month. At the end of which either your behaviour will have improved, or you will be expelled.”

“Expelled?” Cronus gaped. “Isn’t that a bit – why don’t they just suspend me?” (Dad’s gunna kill me -he’ll kill me-)

“They have suspended you. Twice. It hasn’t solved anything – in fact both times your behaviour has been markedly worse upon your return.” Mr Vantas looked at Cronus appraisingly over steepled fingers. His voice was warm but with a core of iron; when Cronus opened his mouth the counsellor kept talking, raising his voice ever so slightly, his tone suggesting that nothing could derail him from what he had to say.

“Because of this you were going to be expelled at the end of term, but your teacher asked me to intervene as she believes that your home life might be causing you to act out.”

Apparently finished, Mr Vantas sat bat in his seat and let Cronus splutter weakly for a moment.

“I’m sorry are you trying to deny that your home life is…?” he scrunched up his face in mock concentration, “difficult? Unusual?” A beat, then his face settled back into its serious lines, “Cronus everyone knows who your father is.”

“I… shut the fuck up. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Cronus stood abruptly, feeling as if his veins had been pumped full of ice, his stomach clenching painfully tight.

(I don’t have to fucking put up with this, fucking quack doesn’t know anything-)

“Leave this room before I say you may and you will be expelled.” Mr Vantas’ voice was all iron now. A taste like metal – like blood - filled Cronus’ mouth and he froze, unable to look at the counsellor, he stood breathing in sharp little gasps, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“I’m sorry to put you through any unnecessary distress, Cronus, that’s not the point here,” Mr Vantas said with a sigh, “but this is a tough situation. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your father. But I also don’t want other students to have their learning experiences interrupted or sullied because you don’t know how to deal with… your home situation.”

Cronus forced himself to relax and evened out his breathing. He was about to sit when Mr Vantas ordered him to, making the small movement a humiliation.

“So. So I just have to talk to you for a bit.” Cronus said, sneering out of habit more than anything else. (It’s fine- it’s fine- he doesn’t know anything- and he can’t keep you here forever.)

“Yes.” Mr Vantas said softly, “However if I feel like you’re not taking this seriously I’ll be forced to tell your form tutor who will, no doubt, move to expel you.”

Cronus swallowed and averted his eyes.

“So… what?”

“See normally I might get you to map out your life a little bit.” Mr Vantas said, leaning forward and looking at Cronus intently with his piercing eyes, “I’d ask you about your living situation, your friends, how your school work is going… But we don’t have a lot of time here, Cronus, and I can already feel you building your walls up. You’re going to be a tough nut to crack. But I’m willing to make an effort here, if you are.”

Mr Vantas paused and Cronus nodded stiffly, despising the shrewdness of the counsellor’s observations.  

“Good. I want to help,” Mr Vantas said, letting out a long breath and leaning back in his chair without actually relaxing enough to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “Tell me what happened the first time the college suspended you.”

Cronus blinked. The first time –

(Autumn-time. The leaves of the trees were turning bronze and gold and copper. And your dad had a dead man in the living room.)

“It was in first term this year. October I think. I got sent out of History and called up to the Head Office.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mr Vantas scribbled gently at the corner of his notebook, never taking his eyes off of Cronus all the while, “And what were you doing in History to warrant that?”

Cronus bristled. “Isn’t it right there on your fucking computer screen?”

Mr Vantas’ face was unreadable.

“Yes. But I want to hear you say it… And my office is not a place for censorship, but have you noticed that your mouth gets fouler the more nervous you become?”

Cronus nearly snarled another fuck you at that – but caught himself before he could hand the counsellor another case in point moment.

The older man still smirked like he could hear the unsaid insult, then cleared his throat and repeated, “What were you doing in History?”

“I was… annoying… someone.”

“Try that again, with more truth.”

“I was,” Cronus realised he was flushing with shame, and clenched his teeth furiously, “I was picking on the kid with half a fucking brain. Getting all up in his space. Because I thought it was funny. Happy?”

“We’re coming back to how you just referred to your classmate.” Mr Vantas said darkly, making a quick scribble on his notepad, “More pressingly: What was your motivation? Did it make you feel… powerful? Superior? Or did it just garner you the attention you wanted.”

Cronus fixed his eyes resolutely over Mr Vantas’ shoulder.

“I don’t know.” (Yes you do yes you fucking do.)

“Did you feel like you were lacking in power? Were you feeling inferior? Like you lacked attention?”

Cronus felt his jaw clenching. When he replied his voice was little more than a croak. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Mr Vantas drummed his fingers on his arm rest and took a deep breath, letting it out a long slow stream of air. “Okay, we’re coming back to that line of questioning. What did you do while you were suspended in Autumn?”

Cronus resisted the urge to screw his eyes up tight to escape the counsellor’s dark eyes.

“I… slept a bunch. Practised guitar….”

(The man had had a single neat bullet wound beneath his left eye, which stared lifelessly up to the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Cronus had been sure that if he had looked closer he would have seen those lifeless eyes duplicated and reflected and staring down at him from every crystal of the light fixture.)

“Was your father happy with you just wasting your time like that? Didn’t he encourage you to do your coursework?”

“He… wasn’t around a lot.” Cronus mumbled, trying to ignore the panicky pressure building in his chest.

(Despite the cleanliness of the entrance wound, the exit wound had to be significant, as the dead man’s blood was creating a spreading pool of gore that soaked into the living room’s cream carpet. There were flecks in the blood. Cronus had forced his eyes away in time to meet his father’s gaze.

“Where have you been?” He growled, the scars raked across his face exaggerating his scowl. Dualscar – that’s what the lads and lasses called him. They didn’t call him the other name.

“Out.”

His father had stared for a moment, ignoring the dead man at his feet, then snorted, “Well since you can’t keep yourself in school and my lads and lasses are busy, you can make yourself useful. Get my toolbox. We gotta pull up this carpet then deal with the body.”

“Deal with-?” Cronus had never been a part of the… messier side of business before.

“Don’t question me.” His father had snapped, “And get a fucking move on. You’ll never going to make anything of yourself without an education – don’t tell me you can’t handle grunt work either.”

Cronus left the room quickly, but not before the words “waste of space” had landed squarely between his shoulders.

They had spent half an hour tearing up the carpet, and Cronus was just bagging up the last of the bloodied sections when his father’s words cut through him again.

“Cronus if you’ve finished fannying about help me get him downstairs.”

“Downst-?” He was cut off as his father’s hand slammed down on his shoulder. 

“The next time you question me instead of doing as you’re told you’re gunna get a thick-ear. Capiche?”

“…Capiche.”

They had struggled down the basement steps with the dead man hefted between them, then unceremoniously dumped him on some sheeting Cronus had no doubt a little lad or lass had laid out specially.

His father had hissed as his phone vibrated and answered it with a growled “What.”

After listening and grunting in response for a minute, he had covered the phone and hissed: “Take the axe off the wall and get chopping. Limbs, head – whatever. We need small pieces. Get to it.”

Cronus had gaped at his father and almost asked him if he was serious – but the dangerous glint in his father’s eyes checked his tongue.

“I’ll be back in five minutes. Ten tops. Have this done.”)

“I… Dad didn’t really… Work keeps him busy.” Cronus managed, trying not to see the broken body crumpled in his basement.

“I’m sure.” Mr Vantas replied archly, making another note in his notebook, then paused before adding, “It can’t be easy running a crime syndicate with its hooks in every racket in the city.”

“He doesn’t- he isn’t- my dad’s a businessman-” Cronus spluttered weakly. The lie came of habit - but the counsellor was suddenly furious.

“STOP LYING TO ME CRONUS!” Mr Vantas roared, slamming his hand down on his desk, his calm façade cracking and rage twisting his serene features. “I’m trying to help you.”

He took another of his deep breaths and scrubbed tiredly at his face.

“I’m sorry I shouted. That wasn’t professional of me. I – Cronus?”

Cronus’ eyes were screwed shut now, and he could feel his fingernails biting into his thighs through his jeans.

“Cronus what’s wrong?”

(“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” his father had roared when, returning to the basement he had found his son shaking uncontrollably, covered in blood and sweat and crying hysterically into his hands over the dismembered corpse.

Dualscar had slapped his hands away from his face and forced him to meet his eyes, “How long is this shit going to go on for? You know what we do. You’ve always known. You’ve seen this stuff before.”

Cronus had wanted to say that he’d never had to do anything like that before. But he knew if he opened his mouth he’d sob, or vomit, or something equally shameful that would only make his father angrier. He also knew they were only half way done. Next would come the acid…

“It’s high time you started acting like a member of this family.” Dualscar had growled, looming over Cronus and forcing his son to cower in on himself, “Ampora’s are smart. Ampora’s get the job done.” He punctuated each point with a sharp jab to Cronus’ sternum, “They don’t lose their minds every time there’s some business to deal with. By rights you should be the one to inherit my company, everything I’ve worked for. But by rights – my rights – I should disown you right now.”

Cronus had taken a tiny shaken breath in the thick air of the basement.

“’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“You’re damn fucking right you will.”

Dualscar had finally shoved away from him, a look of pure disgust written across his harsh features, “And for another thing you can clean up your image. A known trouble maker is no use to me – you gotta keep yer nose clean- in public.”

A tiny bubble of hysteria had risen in Cronus’ throat (– keep it clean? I’m covered in blood!) and his mouth must have twitched involuntarily because suddenly his father had been almost nose to nose with him, his furious words spat directly in Cronus’ face.

“I mean it boy – I fucking mean it. You can stop strutting around with a cigarette hanging out of yer gob like you’re cock of the fucking walk and earn your position in this family. This organization.”

He had shoved Cronus away from him and into the wall. Hard.

“Sort out your attitude. Sort out your education. And for fucks sake bring home a girlfriend or boyfriend soon. You’re seventeen. It’s about fucking time.”

“Yes dad.” He had whispered. What else could he have done?

Dualscar had nodded and checked his suit for blood before briskly climbing the stairs to the ground floor.

Half way up he had paused, and Cronus had felt his heart freeze in fear – but his father only half turned his head to say:

“Next time you get suspended I’ll have the lads and lasses put the fear of god into you – you hear me?”

“Yes dad.”

Ampora’s are smart. Ampora’s get the job done. And Ampora’s do not make idle threats. When Cronus had been suspended in January his father’s lads and lasses had put him through hell.)

“Cronus? Cronus I’m sorry I shouted.” Mr Vantas suddenly looked a thousand years old. “I’m a bit too close to this case. I don’t want to explain right now. But I… I know why your father is known as the Orphaner. And honestly social services should have got you out of the house years ago but no one can get near him… Cronus?”

Cronus forced himself to focus back into the present and turned slightly to scrub his unbidden tears off his face with his sleeve.  

Unable to find his voice, he cocked an eyebrow with as much attitude as he had the energy to summon. (I just want to go, let me go, I’ll come back next time I’ll do whatever the school wants…)

“Maybe we should cut things short for today.” Cronus felt his relief as dizziness, weakness. Before he could stand Mr Vantas was lightly touching his arm.

“I’ll make sure I’m more composed on Friday – and you can make sure you’re more ready to share.”

Cronus shrugged off the light touch and stood on shaky legs.

“Whatever. Fine.” (I don’t need your help anyway.)

Chapter Text

Cronus took the bus home. Two buses, in fact, as Notting Hill to Bethnal Green was not the most popular route and didn’t demand a direct service. Taking the central line would have halved his journey but he didn’t feel like being underground right now.

Something was… off. He felt sort of fuzzy around the edges.

That fucking quack. Messing with my head. He thought muzzily as he jumped off outside Bethnal Green Gardens.

He thought about scuffing around the gardens – but it was only just after lunch time and he didn’t feel like dealing with the eclectic mix of business-professionals-on-a-budget, tramps and mothers with young children who would be eating their lunches or filling up the rotting benches.

Instead he headed down Bethnal Green Road, kicking up empty crisp packets and absent-mindedly tipping his last cigarette into his hand – discarding the crumpled packet with the rest of the detritus on the street.

Ducking into an offie Cronus called out “Yes boss!” to get the tired looking shopkeeps attention, and bought a twenty pack of Marlborough reds to tide him over – ignoring the shopkeeps disdainful look at the expensive cigarettes and the crumpled twenty Cronus pushed into his hand.

Cronus followed the roads that lead to his house automatically, and only realised where he was when he was almost putting his key in the door.

What are you doing? It’s the middle of the fucking day!

Dualscar did his business in the daylight hours. It was the lads and lasses who scuttled around making mischief in the night…

Cronus shivered.

Retracing his steps back to the high street he wandered down Canrobert Street, passing the 24 hour mechanics shop and ended up in Middleton Green.

Throwing himself down on one of the dilapidated swings Cronus lit up a fresh cigarette and glared at the truanting children on the climbing frame, daring them to bother him.

They might have if he was anyone else. The kids around here were fearless.

But not when it came to the Orphaner.

*

Dinner was bangers and mash cooked by one of the lad’s mothers. A little old east-ender called Edna who flirted constantly with Dualscar and constantly fixed Cronus with a snooty looks, often slapping him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon whenever she was about.

“Thank you Edna, would you like to stay to eat?” Dualscar asked that evening, his most charming smile playing about his lips but never reaching his eyes.

“Oh no thank you love – this is my way of saying thank you for getting our Mikey out of that trouble last week, I’ve got my own tea in the oven at home.” Edna simpered and blushed under her wrinkles and rouge.

“Well my pleasure Edna – don’t be a stranger.” Dualscar gave a wave of his hand that clearly indicated dismissal and Enda giggled and bobbed her way out of the room, leaving a trail of perfume and hairspray behind her.

“Mikey’s such a fucking liability – I’d have him killed in an instant if I knew how to cook.” Dualscar remarked as he poured a liberal amount of gravy over his meal.

Cronus felt the food in his mouth curdle, the mashed potato suddenly as thick as cement.

He knew Mikey – he was one of the lads who would occasionally chat to Cronus, and didn’t look at him with such open hostility as the others.

And he’s alive because his mum cooks our dinners sometimes..?

“So how was school today?”

Cronus almost choked on the mouthful of potatoes, and swigged hastily from his glass to force the food down.

The aftertaste in his mouth was bitter.

“Yeah, fine.”

“What classes did you have today?” The question came quick on the heels of Cronus’ reply and he tensed himself for a conversation.

“Maths, politics, and history.”

Usually his father ate with one hand, the other hand used to scroll through his messages and occasionally tap out a reply, but today he put his phone down and fixed Cronus in an intense stare.

 “Aren’t there four class slots in a day?” How did he know that? Has he contacted the college? Why?

“Some of them are free for personal-study.”

“And what AS levels are you taking again?”

“Maths, politics, history, French and English literature.” Cronus bit back the words as you should know, but Dualscar frowned and put his cutlery down.

Maybe he can read minds. A hysterical thought whispered.

“And you have to drop one after this year, right?”

“Yes.” Cronus couldn’t hold his father’s gaze for more than a moment, so quickly looked down to stab listlessly at his sausages.

“Drop literature. The others are good. Particularly politics. … Actually it’s a shame you’re not studying law. That fucking Commissioner’s on my arse again over the deals that get done at Mario’s and if Pyrope’s my prosecutor next time I’m in court-”

“I like literature.”

Cronus’ voice might well have been a shattering glass or a fingernail scrapping down a chalkboard for the look his father gave him.

Dualscar’s eyes flashed dangerously, and his lips settled into a thin line, but his voice was calm when he spoke.

“I like literature, too.” He pushed a lock of thick black hair off his forehead, the motion overly casual and clearly practised, “It’s not useful though. You can read books in your spare time. Drop literature.”

Cronus almost protested, but a flick of his eyes registered how tightly his father’s hands were clenched on the table and the words died in his throat.

What is this even worth to you? Are you going to fight him?

“Yes dad, I’ll drop literature, ‘course.” That’s what I thought.

Cronus managed to eat half his dinner, then excused himself from the table – scrapping the leftovers into the bin so his dad wouldn’t comment on it later.

In his room with the door closed he relaxed slightly, putting some mind-numbing reality show on the television and strumming idly at his guitar.

He hadn’t got round to learning any new songs lately, and he was bored of the old ones he knew… and yet it was comforting to hold the instrument in his hands.

After a while he flipped the television off and plugged his headphones in. He’d started to listen to the radio again, ever since he’d learned the lads and lasses sometimes got messages out via song – like in the fucking movies. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to learn by listening in, but music helped tune out his thoughts.

The song playing was a rap, the singer abrasive and outspoken –

I saw a dead fish on the pavement and thought 'what did you expect?

There's no water 'round here stupid, shoulda stayed where it was wet.'

Cronus snorted. If that was a message he couldn’t decipher it. And some fish couldn’t help where they ended up… He rolled onto his side and tried to follow the song with his still-muzzy head.

I've seen the world, I've seen the good and the shitty bits

And I'll I gotta say is 'Goddamn, y'all are fuckin' idiots'

Some people heard my words and thought it meant they knew me

Truth is I don't exist, I'm just a soundtrack to your movie

Some background figure, in a story that's already scripted

And what I feel's just felt for you to hear me fucking spit it

I jump in many different heads through these words and poems

Always hoping maybe the next leap'll be my leap home-

A beam of light fell across Cronus’ bed and he almost leaped out of his skin – tearing the headphones from his ears.

“Wha- what?”

Dualscar was standing in the doorway - his tall, broad shouldered silhouette falling like a threat across the dim room. He looked down at his son with an appraising eye.

Cronus waited a second, feeling his skin crawl under that gaze.

Oh god he’s gunna ask me to do a job – there’s another body – oh god-

“Do you wanna have a friend over or something?” Dualscar asked abruptly.

Cronus gaped. Where the hell was this coming from?

“I.. no. No it’s okay. I see… my friends… enough at college.” Cronus managed, sitting up and clutching his ipod in front of him like a shield.

Dualscar grunted, but didn’t leave, toying with his cufflinks in a bizarre display of awkwardness – not something Cronus thought he’d ever seen his father display before.

“Look I could… I mean if you want the company I could get some of the lads and lasses round.”

Cronus froze – is he fucking joking? Is this a joke? A test? I- what do I do??

“N-no thanks dad. I’m fine.” He croaked, trying not to think of the last time he’d “hung out” with the lads and lasses of Dualscar’s operation.

Dualscar frowned, but then shrugged.

“Suit yerself. I’ve got a meeting in an hour. Could get messy. Stay here or go out but don’t get in the way – capiche?”

“Capiche.”

Cronus grabbed his jacket and ran downstairs in a way he refused to think of as fleeing – but at any rate he got out of the house pretty damn sharpish as his dad might say.

His head was spinning and that fuzzy feeling was coming back – he suddenly had too many thoughts to deal with-

Why did dad want me to have a friend over?

Why did he suggest the fucking lads and the fucking lasses?

                                                Hold his legs – hold his legs tighter-

Why is he having a meeting in the house he said he wouldn’t do that anymore -

                The dead man in his living room

                                The crunch of axe on bone

                                                Bile in the back of his throat

Wait why would he tell me to get a friend over if he was having a meeting?

                The lads and lasses

                                Hold his legs – yeah now put him over – right fucking over – how do you like that kiddo?

Who would it be – oh no it’s gunna be fucking Spinerette

                                If we let go now, you’re dead kiddo – you get me?

                                                The metallic tang of hot blood in his mouth

Why did he want me to have company?

Oh fuck I hope she’s gone when I get back – wait how will I even know when it’s safe to go back?

                                You think you’re safe because your daddy’s our boss? Well he gave us very specific instructions mate. Gotta toughen you up haven’t we?

                                                                                Help me.

                                You ain’t safe kiddo. No one’s safe. Let go of one leg- go on-

                                                                                Help me help me nonononono-

                                                                                                                A lurch-

Cronus felt the lurch of when a chair you were swinging on finally tipped – and stopped, gasping in the middle of the street, crouching down and to grab at his chest.

When his breath was coming a little more evenly he stood up quickly, and wiped away the sheen of cold sweat from his face.

It took him a moment to register what was wrong, but when he did he could only look around, blinking dumbly.

It’s dark. It wasn’t dark a second ago.

Where the fuck am I-?

And wasn’t it like 8 when I left?

It was full night-time dark now, and he was in a small back-alley he didn’t recognise, garden fences hemming him in on either side.

Looking down at his phone told him it was almost midnight. And a quick click on google maps told him he was-

In Poplar? Fucking Poplar?? Why did I walk to Poplar?

Panic started somewhere in the pit of his stomach and his heart started to hammer in his chest.

Poplar belonged to Spinerette. Everyone knew that. The East India Dockyard area was split between Dualscar and Serket – but Poplar itself was full-on Serket territory.

It must be because I was thinking about her coming to our house – oh fuck - I can’t be here – how fucking stupid -I can’t be here-

Cronus wished he had a hood or a hat or something to pull down over his face – but he’d grabbed his stupid fucking leather jacket-

Cronus started to run, jogging and trying to work google maps with sweaty fingers.

I don’t have my oyster card for the bus – I could get an uber but it’ll pay with dad’s card – and what if they’re monitoring that – what if it’s a trap- ?

Before long he was wheezing and coughing up what felt like chunks of his own lungs, but he was too scared to stop – every stranger he passed a potential enemy, every dark alley his potential end –

He didn’t stop until he could see the pulsing light of the Bethnal Green tube station sign. And then he collapsed down next to a homeless guy, shaking and wheezing and moaning as his body screamed its protests at him.

“Mate, v’you got a quid? Mate? Oi mate are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Cronus gasped, feeling his sweat soaked shirt now freezing against his skin. “Yeah’m fine.”

“Alright mate s’long as yore sure…. Mate. Mate v’you got a quid?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Cronus found a crumpled tenner in his pocket – change from the cigarettes earlier – and pushed it into the man’s hands.

As soon as his trembling legs would obey him he started to walk home.

But it’s only a little after midnight now. What is she’s still about –?

Cursing to himself, Cronus made his way instead to the 24 hour mechanics shop on Canrobert Street and threw himself down outside it, squinting at the neon light and trying not to think too longingly of his shower and his bed.

He lit up a cigarette and sucked down a few mouthful of nicotine. It almost made him feel better about losing so many hours. Almost.

A deep voice interrupted his reverie.

“Excuse me, you’ll have to move along, you can’t – oh,”

Cronus looked up. The biggest bloke he’d ever seen was towering over him, long hair sweat slicked to his face and wrench in hand.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were a homeless- sorry.”

“S’okay.” Wait – he’s like, my age… His extremely muscular frame aged him beyond his years, but the face behind the long ropes of hair was young and anxiously flushed.

“…Can I, uh, help you?” Cronus realised that he’d been spacing out again and mentally kicked himself.

“Yeah – no – sorry. Can I just hang here for a bit? Won’t bother any customers.”

The huge lad looked him up and down appraisingly and then seemed to recognise him – taking a step back and gripping the wrench nervously.

“Ah. Yes. Yes of course.”

He hurried back inside without inviting Cronus in or attempting to talk to him further.

He knows who I am then.

Figures.

Cronus looked like carbon copy of his father. It was something he didn’t like to think about much. But he had the same dark hair and eyes, the same defined jaw and the same tall, strong build.

Just need my nose broken a few more times and to get glassed in a bar fight and we could be the same fucking person. Which means he’ll always be in every mirror I look in – and of course it means everyone knows whose son I am…

When he finally ventured home it was one in the morning. His father was nowhere to be seen, but thankfully neither was anyone else.

Cronus showered and collapsed into bed before he could think about the events of the evening too much.

*

Thursday

Cronus snoozed his alarm four times, so by the time he actually managed to haul himself out of bed he was late.

Shit.

He tugged on last night’s jeans, the first t shirt he came across, and pulled a grey hoodie down over the top.

That’ll do.

Ignoring the pains in his leg muscles he ran downstairs – and almost made it to the front door when a soft voice pulled him up sharp.

“Running late hmm? Want me to drive you in?”

The voice was low, female, and dangerous.

Cronus didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but he did, averting his eyes hurriedly when he saw how few clothes Spinerette was wearing.

“Marquise” Spinerette Serket was his father’s biggest rival in the East of the city, and also his occasional lover. Currently they were warring over the East India Dockyards, since they were technically in Spinerette’s patch – but Dualscar had had his “little shipments” coming in through them for five years before Spinerette even set up her operation.

They had a tentative agreement over the usage of the docks, but wars between the two gangs flared up regularly, and recently there had been fatalities on both sides…. It was probably about time for renegotiations…

“Chéri?”

“Uh, n-no, thanks – I’ll get the tube.”

“Well if you’re sure,” she crooned, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you Cronus, your father and I are in the middle of some intensive negotiations.”

Why did she insist on wandering the house in nothing but his father’s shirt? He was sure she did it on purpose; to make him uncomfortable.

“…Yeah. Ok. Bye.”

“Oh Cronus-” She reached out and snagged his arm in a way that would have been almost casual were it not for the iron strength behind it, “you wouldn't have happened have gone for a  little wander near Chrisp Street last night hmm? Only an associate of mine sent me some interesting pictures of someone who looks remarkably like you just strolling down towards my docks casual as you like.” He voice had gone from a purr to an icy hiss. Cronus swallowed.

‘I-‘

‘I don't want any excuses.’ She whispered, her other hand curling painfully in his hair, “stay off my patch.”

Her nose was a hair’s breadth from his own and he could smell the gin on her breath.

“I don't care how young you are, chéri. Do that again and I'll skin you alive, understand?’

Cronus didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

“Good,” she crooned, her voice back to its usual honeyed tones, planting a kiss to his forehead, “now run along, you're going to be late.”

Cronus didn’t need more encouragement – he ran out the house and didn't stop until he was crushed on the central line with the usual hoard of sweaty commuters.

Spinerette’s presence was always so intimidating. He always left her presence feeling small and weak, but this time was worse. Because she’d confirmed what he always assumed: no matter the arrangement she might have with his father, she would kill Cronus in a heartbeat if he strayed out Dualscar’s protective bounds.

She had pictures.

I knew they'd be watching, I'm lucky I got out at all.

*

Cronus made it into history only five minutes late, and shrugged his apology at the teacher.

The only seat left was next to… oh fantastic – Mituna Captor.

Mituna was two years older than everyone else in the class – after a horrible car accident in his first year he’d been left with brain damage and his family had apparently decided to have him start first year again rather than pull him out of college altogether.

Usually Mituna was Cronus’ punching bag of choice when he was in a bad mood, but today he was too tired – and too aware of the consequences- to start anything.

Nevertheless Mituna hissed as Cronus sat down – literally hissed, flinching away and then covering his face in his hands. Cronus, too tired to even comment, dragged his chair as far away from Mituna as he could, flashing Mituna’s classroom-assistant a “there, better?” with dark eyes.

The red-haired girl on the other side of him didn’t seem pleased with his proximity either, however, so he huffed and pushed his chair back, pulling his notepad into his lap to scrawl half-arsed notes – ignoring Mituna’s snort of amusement.

Yeah laugh it up, at least I’m not a –

The thought died as a new one rose in its place – Counsellor’s Vantas’ flashing eyes and his promise:

“We’re coming back to how you just referred to your classmate.”

Something in Cronus’ gut squirmed and he carefully put any thought of Mituna out of his head, focusing instead on the intricacies of the inter-war political situation in Europe.

Appeasement. Good policy.

Wait – no- no the whole point is – that’s what caused world war two you fucking idio-

“Oh fthit-!”

With a lurch Cronus felt his chair being yanked backwards and before he could brace himself he was slamming into the ground. He managed to scrabble upright quickly and looked around for an answer.

Instead he found Mituna Captor on the floor beside him and-

Oh for fucks sake – that little shit-

A hand caught at his wrist – and he looked down to see his hand had curled into a fist unconsciously-

It was the red-haired girl who had flinched away from him.

“He was swinging on his chair. It was an accident. Don’t be a dick.”

Cronus’ first wave of anger was eclipsed by the fury that followed. Don’t be a dick? What the hell did she take him for-?

And at the same time the urge to just reach out and give Mituna a slap round the ear for being so fucking brainless-

Mr Vantas’ words came back to him again and it was as he’d been punched in the gut.

He felt bile rising in the back of his throat, and an emotion he couldn’t put a name to ringing in his ears.

“S’fine, s’fine – it was an accident.” He said thickly, feeling the eyes of everyone in the classroom on him.

As the classroom assistant helped Mituna up and back into his chair with a stern admonition of “This is why we don’t swing on our chair Matty!” Cronus glanced around at the class.

No one was actually staring anymore – expect for Kurloz Makara in the back row, but then Kurloz was a dangerous character – and an enigma unto himself, so Cronus decided to forget about it.

*

French was hardly better. While Cronus was minding his own business trying to remember the conjugations of irregular verbs Porrim Maryam – a girl who hated him for fuck all reason as far as Cronus could tell- started hissing hatred at him every time the teacher’s back was turned, and by lunchtime rolled around he knew the rest of the day was a write off.

Instead of going to his politics class after lunch Cronus hid in a bathroom stall and lit up a cigarette on autopilot. He felt a little better until a high insistent beeping began outside the bathroom, shattering his just-regained calm.

Oh god the fucking smoke alarm-

“Is someone smoking in here?” a woman’s voice – older; sharp with annoyance – came through the door, “If there’s any boys in there with pants down I suggest you pull ‘em up – I’m coming in in ten seconds.”

Cronus dropped his cigarette into the toilet and looked around desperately. Miraculously the stall he was in had a smoky-glass window that wasn’t hard to prop open, and which he was sure he could get through if he held his breath.

First floor… what’s it gunna be? Broken legs or tell dad you got expelled for smoking?

Cronus took the safer option. And jumped out the window.

The landing sent jarring pain up his legs and into his back, but he managed to stand up – and since it was still class time, only one or two startled students saw him drop and stagger away with as much dignity as he could master.

Three loud, slow claps rang out across the quad as he headed for the main gate, and he turned to see Kurloz Makara give him a lazy salute.

Cronus raised a hand in return, but kept going, trying not to limp.

Fuck politics. Fuck maths. I’m going ho- I’m going somewhere else.  

He managed to walk to Meanwhile Skatepark and rested on a bench, smoking and watching the skaters, and trying to ignore the twinging pains in his legs.

Why was Kurloz Makara suddenly interested in him? Kurloz, like Cronus, had family involved in the shadier types of business. Hell, his uncle practically owned South London and the Makara’s had drug links all over the city – except in the West End, of course… no one challenged Medigo in the West End…

Despite their similarities – in family situation at least – Cronus and Kurloz had barely spoken, as any attempt at conversation on Cronus’ part was met with mildly bemused silence – followed by dark, disturbing glares if he pushed his luck.

You’re probably just being paranoid. Why the fuck would he be interested in you all of a sudden? Dad knows not to push into the South and the Makaras have always respected the East End as his…

When Cronus ran out of cigarettes he got out his phone and scrolled through twitter until his head hurt – anything to stop his endless spiralling thoughts.

After an hour and a half his legs felt a little better, if stiff, and he was just about to go find a coffee shop to sit in when Mituna and his girlfriend showed up at the park – laughing and talking excitedly about some new trick they were going to learn.

Latula was a stocky girl with a loud raucous laugh and sweet doe-eyes. What she saw in Mituna was beyond Cronus, but he didn’t want any conflict so he made to leave quickly and quietly without bothering them -

– But then Latula caught sight of him and the aura of anger and protective concern for Mituna she immediately broadcasted infuriated him.

Just don’t say anything. Just walk past and leave quickly.

As he approached Latula glared daggers at him and put her arm between him and Mituna.

Oh for fucks – I just want to get to the gate- fine- FINE.

“Hey Mituna!” Cronus called, unable to restrain himself any longer, “Haven’t done enough crashing to the floor today?”

He walked over to them with long, lazy strides, trying to hide the sudden fury bubbling away inside him.

“Fuck off Cronus,” Latula said, putting herself in front of Mituna – like I’m gunna fucking hit him or something.

“Why?” he asked, the brittle cheerfulness of his voice sounding strange and distorted to his own ears, “I’m just saying hello to my good friend Mituna.”

“You’re not my friend you fuckingth- you-you ffuck you-“

“Oh yeah that’s right,” Cronus exclaimed over Mituna’s stumbling words, using the full extent of his height to loom effectively over the pair, “You don’t have any friends any more, do you? Because your friends are at university now. With their brains intact.”

“Thatsth – That’s not-”

“Matty’s got plenty of friends - who’ll stick with him through anything.” Latula spat, jabbing her finger at Cronus’ chest, “What’ve you got? Daddy can’t seem to buy you any friends at all.”

Cronus could feel a pulse in his temple as anger clawed its way up his throat to spit poison back at Latula.

“I don’t need friends to cower behind. I’m not a shit-for-brains spazz – or a girl who’s only sticking by her boyfriend because his antics detract from her own myriad of issues – and, of course because it gives her a personality. Look at kind, caring Latula. What would you have without that?”

Latula’s eyes were overflowing with tears but even the memory of Counsellor Vantas’ stern words couldn’t stop the tirade of bile coming out of Cronus’ mouth – “You two fucking deserve each other. Have fun skating. Which is a super cool hobby – and not at all an excuse to get Mituna to wear protective gear in public because everyone knows he’s likely to fall down and bash out his remaining brains at any second. Yeah, no, totally rad.”

He flicked the sign of the horns into her face, then pushed past Mituna as hard as possible, leaving the skate park at a run.

Cronus only stopped shaking after watching a cup of coffee go cold in a shitty little café off the high street. Once he’d gotten over the anger, the guilt started to gnaw away at the bottom of his stomach.

What’re you gunna tell the counsellor tomorrow? That you accidently screamed a load of shit at Mituna and his girlfriend – but you didn’t mean it really please don’t expel me…

Cronus groaned and tried a sip of the now cold coffee – almost spitting it back into the cup in disgust.  

Why didn’t you just leave? What’s wrong with you??

He was just about to head home, giving up on trying to stop out his own vile words reverberating in the back of his head, when he got a text from an unknown number:

CM

It would be dad. CM meant Childhood Museum. Which basically meant don’t come home.

Cronus groaned.

*

At the Museum of Childhood one of the lasses found him and tugged him behind a display case of a perturbing puppet with a brightly painted face. She was a tall gangly woman in her early twenties, with long blond hair that was scraped back into a greasy ponytail. She chewed a thick wad of gum as she spoke to him – popping the gum loudly every other word.

Cronus didn’t know her name. He rarely did.

“Yer dad says you can’t come home tonight.” The woman said, checking her phone distractedly as she spoke, “He’s gotta finish negotiations with Spinny since they got… distracted last night.”

She flashed Cronus a sly smile and he looked away, embarrassed.

“Where does he want me to go?”

“He didn’t say – go stay with a friend or something.”

Oh sure, I’ll just call all my friends he thought caustically, as the woman continued,

“He says you can come home in the morning to shower an’ that before college. Sez presentation is important. Oh- speak of the devil.”

She answered her phone with an impertinent “yep”, and pushed it into Cronus’ hands.

“It’s yer dad.” She hissed, unnecessarily.

“Hi dad,” Cronus said dully

“Did you get the message? I’ve got some friendly coppers over here right now – just buttering them up so they don’t come nosing around later – and I don’t need you here complicating things.”

“Yes dad.”

“Good. …By the way Cronus, I heard on the grapevine that you missed some classes today. You really need to put more effort into your education… We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Cronus gaped, and didn’t resist as the woman tugged her phone back out of his hands.

 “So yeah, see you tomorrow.” She called over her shoulder as she left.

Cronus looked after her helplessly, and nearly jumped as a gangly figure behind him said:

“What was that all about?”

Cronus spun, expecting to be faced with a member of Spinerette’s gang, and came face to face with Kurloz Makara. Well – face to chest. Kurloz Makara was bloody tall.

“Did she just tell you not to go home tonight?”

“…Yeah,” Cronus spoke defensively, unable to read Kurloz’s deadpan expression.

“Shit.”

A pause, and Kurloz began idly rolling a smoke, then,

“If you want you can come back to mine. Uncle got me my own flat. Southbank.”

“Oh. Oh – nice.” Cronus was a little speechless. He wanted to ask a thousand questions –

                Why are you here? Are you safe in the East End?

                Why are you… following me? Interested in me? All of a sudden?

                Why would you offer to help me?

But knew Kurloz was a man of very few words – and he didn’t want to spoil the opportunity to have a roof over his head that night.

“Yeah that’d be great, thanks.”

Kurloz shrugged and started to walk off, letting his cigarette hang loosely from the corner of his mouth.

I guess that means follow him.

Cronus trotted to catch up, and asked the one question he couldn’t afford not to.

“Look, your uncle… is he alright with me being South of the River?”

“Not planning on encroaching on his patch are you?”

“No!”

“Then you’re fine.” The smile Kurloz flashed him was equal parts warm and disturbing.

*

At midnight Cronus found himself in Kurloz Makara’s flat smoking weed and listlessly playing video games.

How’m I gunna explain to dad that I spent the night in Makara’s territory? …Well he’s the one who wanted me to have company all of a sudden….

Cronus’ thoughts were too fuzzy to focus too hard on the issue.

At any rate he was grateful to Kurloz for getting him away from the cold night air, for ordering and sharing pizza, and for not commenting when Cronus insisted they take the tube and not the bus to get over the river…

Cronus shivered and looked up to find Kurloz looking from between his phone screen and Cronus’ face with an increasingly sour expression.

“…What?”

“You’re not very smart, are you Cronus?” Kurloz whispered, throwing his phone on the sofa cushions behind him and taking a swig from a can of strongbow.

“I – what?” Cronus asked tiredly.

“I said you’re not smart.” Kurloz repeated, standing and suddenly striding across the room to loom over Cronus in his armchair.

“I… what do you mean?” What’s happening – is he angry? I don’t -

“Oh man – I was gunna keep this a secret for while longer, but then you went and pissed me off.”

Cronus felt his stomach twisting – what did I do now??

“See,” Kurloz said, slamming his hands on the arms of the chair and effectively trapping Cronus, “Your dad hired me to spy on you – keep an eye on how you were doing in school an’ that. Which of course meant that I got free entry into his patch. And of course meant that I immediately started reporting back to my uncle… You do know who my uncle is, don’t you Cronus?”

Cronus nodded dumbly. The King of South London. Who didn’t know the Makara name? And the awful reports of brutality that came with it.

“Now your dad knew that I’d do that – I’m pretty sure he’s looking for an in with my uncle, actually, but there you go. Point is your dad’s not thick. Not like you.”

“Why’re you even telling me this,” Cronus muttered, feeling a deep dragging disappointment in his stomach. A tiny stupid stupid stupid part of him had thought that maybe Kurloz just wanted to hang out.

“Because I was well up for all the little intricacies of that game – and then you went and ruined it. See you hurt someone very special to me, and now I can’t stomach getting all pally with you.”

“Who- what – what are you talking about?”

“Mituna. My best friend. You thick fuck.” Kurlox hissed, giving Cronus a sharp slap around the head. The pain making Cronus wince, but clearing his head a little, “Latula’s been telling me some very upsetting things that you said today.”

 “You – I’ve never seen you with- not since-”

“Oh just fuck off, before I do something stupid like kill you.” Kurloz growled, watching with a dark fury behind his eyes as Cronus dragged his jacket on and made his way to the door on wooden legs.

Part of him wanted to say “thank you”. Part of him wanted to say “I’m sorry”. Most of him just wanted to cry, but he kept his lips pressed into a line and forced his face to remain as neutral as possible.

Just as he opened the door to the apartment, Kurloz was there, slamming it shut,

“Maybe it’s enough that I’ve already told your dad what a pathetic, lonely little idiot his son is – but you know what I could do,” he hissed, dragging one fingernails down the side of Cronus’ face, “I could take you down to the Thames – to one of the pedestrian bridges that doesn’t get a lot of traffic – and dangle you over the edge.”

“Fuck you.” Cronus whispered.

“Seriously – what did you do to piss daddy off? I’m almost impressed. My uncle doesn’t really go in for mind games or warnings… but then it wasn’t so much a warning was it – you got dropped in. Almost drowned from what I hear.”

“What’s your point?” Cronus managed, trying not to hear the laughter of the lads and lasses, feel the lurch of falling, or the rib shattering impact of body into ice-cold water.

“Well, maybe Dualscar sees weakness and filth like I do when look at you. Maybe you weren’t supposed to survive that little accident.”

Cronus froze, feeling his reply leaving his mouth before he could stop it.

“Well- well talking about little accidents I’ve heard you were driving the car when Mituna had his crash. Your uncle got you off the charges. Some best friend you are.”

Kurloz laughed manically, “Get the hell out of my flat. And next time you can’t control your mouth around Mituna I’m going to break your jaw… capiche?”

Cronus flinched away from Kurloz and legged it out the door pursued by Kurloz’s awful laughter.

*

Friday

Cronus woke freezing and sickly the next morning, to find the huge lad from the mechanics shop shaking him by the shoulder.

“Um. You looked cold… It’s 6am… Look do you want a cup of tea or something?”

Cronus blinked and looked around him blearily. He’d managed to get on the right night bus, despite the panic attack almost crippling him as soon as he stepped out of Kurloz’s building - but apparently after that he’d just crashed out in the alley behind the mechanics.

“Uh… no. Thank you.” He said in a hoarse voice. “I’d better be going home.”

The lad nodded, twisting the front of his overalls between two huge hands. It looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he nodded slowly, then walked back into the shop, throwing a concerned look back over his shoulder at Cronus’ crumpled form.

Cronus managed to get himself to his feet, shivering uncontrollably and aware of a thickness in his head and throat, and staggered home - Which, when he got there, looked like a bomb site: the front door was hanging off its hinges, and blood and smashed glass littered the hallway.

Cronus stepped gingerly over the debris and called out, “Dad?” in the strongest voice he could muster.

“In here Cronus!” his dad’s voice came from the living room and Cronus walked in to find Dualscar and Spinerette sipping whiskey, sprawled in adjacent arm chairs, and patently ignoring the destruction and blood stains of the room around them.

“What-?”

“Everything’s fine.” Dualscar said, holding up a hand to shush him, “Things got a little heated between our lads and lasses but negotiations are complete, aren’t they my dear?” He inclined his head towards Spinerette who sneered.

“That’s one way to put it, yes, you slimy bâtard.”

Dualscar snorted and drained his glass.

“I’ve got cleaners coming round in an hour – go get ready for school.”

Cronus didn’t need more encouragement, and escaped upstairs. He showered and tugged some fresh clothes on, resisting the urge to just crawl under his covers and sleep. He felt so tired and groggy – but he didn’t want to do anything to provoke his father into remembering the conversation he’d promised.

On his way out Cronus made the mistake of stopping in the kitchen for coffee – and found the blond woman from yesterday sprawled out on the floor, her head nearly caved in under the weight of some blunt instrument or another; her greasy blond hair caked in dried blood.

He found himself frozen, staring at her lifeless body and the awful mess of her head, even as the rest of his body began to shake.

*

Somehow Cronus managed to get through his first two classes of the day despite how much his head and throat ached, and how often the woman with the caved in skull swam in front of his vision.

By the time he made it to his counselling session, however, he could barely stand under the weight of exhaustion, fear, guilt and fever.

“Cronus,” Mr Vantas began in his deep, steady voice, as he ushered him into his little office, “I want to talk about your treatment of Mituna Captor today – if you don’t mind. I heard tell of a… worrying incident from yesterday.”

“I only yelled at him,” Cronus whispered, as the room swam in front of him, “Could’ve been a lot worse.” At least he hasn’t got his head caved in like that poor lass in our kitchen.

“…I beg your pardon?” Cronus looked up to see the colour draining from Mr Vantas’ face.

“Wha-?” Oh shit did I say that out loud?

“Yes you did.” The counsellor’s stern face was lined with concern, “Cronus… how involved are you with your dad’s operation – I mean, if you’re seeing dead bodies?”

“I’m not involved,” Cronus said, finding himself – to his horror – suddenly crying weakly, “I never killed anyone I just helped with the bodies – and I didn’t want to it was awful.”

His head was pounding now, bright spots flashing before his eyes.

“I..” Vantas looked lost for words, “Cronus are you sick?”

A warm hand was pressed to his forehead and quickly withdrawn.

“Cronus you’re burning up, come with me – I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.”

“Okay,” Cronus mumbled, leaning heavily on the shorter man as he stumbled down the corridor.

The nurse looked a little shocked as they entered, but he didn’t have time to be offended – the second his head touched the pillow of the nurses bed, Cronus went out like a light.

*

“Hey.” Counsellor Vantas said softly to his secretary, “can you do me a favour?”

“Is it for the Ampora kid?” the secretary asked suspiciously, “Because then no. I can’t. My computers stopped working and someone cut the phone lines.”

Vantas sighed and leant down to rest his head wearily on the cool desk.

“I know you don’t like him-”

“He’s a little shit that bullies my brother – what’s to like?”

Vantas groaned and looked at his implacable friend with imploring eyes.

“Si, we have to call child protection services. Now.”

Si frowned and looked appraisingly at his friend.

“You’re not kidding?”

“Fuck no – I –I mean, no. No, Si. This kid’s in over his head.”

Si considered this for a second, his long fingers tapping nervously at his phone.

“Do you think the law will be able to intervene here though, I mean-?”

“I’ve got to try.” They shared a look. They both knew what wading into Dualscar’s business could mean. “Look - he’s seventeen. They're still legally obligated to help if they can.”

Si held his gaze for a moment longer, then sighed and picked up the phone.

“Alright. Alright – you’re the boss.” He didn’t look happy, but he made the call.

Chapter Text

Monday

Cronus spent the weekend in hospital, sleeping fitfully while he was pumped full of antibiotics.

Every few hours nurses would check in on him, but no visitors came.

The tiny childlike instinct inside him wistfully wondered if his dad might visit. The more realistic side of him knew, however, that he definitely wouldn’t – but maybe he’d get a text message… Or one of the lads or lasses might stop by..?

By Monday, Cronus’ fever had cleared, and he’d caught up on sleep. In fact, boredom was settling over him like a thick cloud of dust and he was itching to be released, but the nurse he’d seen last had mumbled something about “complications” and the door to his room was locked.

Funny, wonder why I got a room when the NHS is bursting with patients – you’d’ve thought I’d be on a ward for something as simple as a chest infection…

Before he could piece everything together, there was a sharp rap on the door.

“You decent in there?”

“Uh…. Yes?” Cronus was in a paper-thin hospital gown, but he was also in bed, so he supposed that would have to do. He didn’t know where they’d put his clothes, anyway.

As the man and woman entered the room Cronus felt the pang of fear hit his stomach before he even registered what was wrong about them.

Then the woman spoke and it became clear,

“Hello Cronus, my name is PC Huang and this is PC Kofo. We’re here to escort you to Bethnal Green Police Station, where you’ll be staying with us for the next 24 hours.”

They’re police You’re being arrested. What did you say to the counsellor?? Did you admit to anything?

With a feeling like ice water being trickled down his back, Cronus remembered saying something about the lass in his kitchen-

And the body from last autumn.

Holy shit if you get done for murder – or accessory to murder – wait, no, you’re 17 they have to take that into account-

“Cronus?” PC Huang asked brightly, her teeth white and straight and somehow predatory, “Are you feeling okay? Shall I get the nurse?”

Cronus shook his head dumbly,

“Well put these on then,” PC Kofo said, hands gripping the front of his black-and-white uniform, his tone more brusque and formal than his colleagues, “We need to move you soon and the hospital seem to have mislaid the clothes you were wearing when you were admitted. We have your personal effects though - don’t worry, we’re looking after them.” He added, his mouth twitching up into a warm smile, while his tone remained dead. The message Cronus received was:

We have your phone and you’re not calling anyone.

PC Kofo threw a small pile of clothes onto the bed and the police officers left the room.

Cronus took a few deep breaths before he could convince himself to get out of the safety of the bed, feeling the claustrophobic grip of panic closing in around his throat.

It’s okay dad will come get me – his lawyers will get me off the charges-

But then Kurloz’s words rose up

“Well, maybe Dualscar sees weakness and filth like I do when look at you. Maybe you weren’t supposed to survive that little accident.”

Maybe he won’t come – maybe he’ll let me take the fall…

Cronus dragged the plain black tracksuits on and ducked into the hoody they’d provided.

Great, now I look like a thug too – oh god what if the police are in on this??

Dualscar had friends in the police – those he could bribe and those he could charm into ignoring his less-discreet operations.

Cronus let his mind spiral into blind panic and sat, silent and shaking in the backseat of the police car on the drive from the Notting Hill hospital to the Bethnal green police station.

The one thought that gave him anything resembling hope, was: Mr Vantas wouldn’t send me to prison – Mr Vantas will help, if I could just call him -

As he was lead towards the holding cells, Cronus said feebly, “I’m going to miss college, I should let my teachers know-”

But PC Kofo cut him off with, “We’ll handle it. It’s best you stay with us for now.”

He shut the door, but a moment later the window pulled back and he added,

“I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a moment. And your antibiotics.”

The cell was big enough to stop it being claustrophobic, and small enough to stop it being cold. Nevertheless it was hardly desirable accommodation. The bunk had a plastic-y covering over it, leaving Cronus to wonder about what bodily fluids usually got spilt on it, and the sink and toilet were made of rusty metal – and out in the open, so if the window was opened without warning, anyone might catch you with your pants down.

Cronus drank the tea PC Kofo bought for him, and curled up miserably on the little bunk, trying desperately not to think of the lass with her head all bashed in – or the thunk of axe hitting flesh.

Maybe it would be better in prison? An idle thought whispered, but Cronus had heard enough stories from the lads and lasses to know that that was idiotic.

And the lads and lasses cycle in and out of the nick all the time. It’s not like you’d be getting away from anything…

After what felt like six hours – but for all Cronus could tell could have been twenty minutes – he gave in to his need to use the little toilet. He was just finishing up when there was a sharp rap on the door and he spun round to see the window opening on an unwelcome sight.

“Hello Cronus!” Ms Pyrope called out, her eyes sparkling behind her signature red-tinted glasses, “How are you enjoying your time in the slammer?”

“W-what?”

“It means jail – I just call it the slammer when I’m extra angry at crimes… Let’s you and I have a little chat, ok?”

*

In the police station break room, Cronus began to suspect something was a little bit wrong.

Shouldn’t I be in handcuffs? Don’t they have to read me my rights – or is that just on telly?

Ms Pyrope was the ruthless prosecuting lawyer attached to the investigation team who had been trying to get evidence on his father for the last ten years. She had to be at least in her forties but her wicked grin and eyes sparkling behind red shades drew attention from her crow’s feet and the silver hairs in among the black. In fact it was the shades that gave her the courtroom nickname: Redglare.

But why is she here? Shouldn’t it be the DEFENSE lawyer I’m seeing now?

Pyrope must have seen the confusion written plain across his face, because, after devouring a few Custard Creams and gulping down half a cup of milky tea, she explained the situation.

“You’re not being detained because the police think you’re guilty of a crime.” She said bluntly, reaching for another Custard Cream. “You’re being detained because the government’s new slew of budget cuts mean that there’s not enough shelters to house vulnerable youths – that’s you by the way – when child protection needs to investigate their parents and living conditions.”

She paused to slurp at her tea, giving Cronus the second he needed to let out a breath he’d been holding, it felt, since the police had walked into his hospital room that morning.

“Now agents have been combing over your house since Saturday, but they haven’t found anything of any consequence. No traces of blood, no signs of struggle – no phone records or papers that suggest underhand dealing in any way. In fact, your house is suspiciously clean – but I can’t do fuck all without actual evidence.”

Cronus tried to look as innocent as possible. Redglare snorted.

“Look, we can keep you here until 8am tomorrow morning, but your dad’s already kicking up a fuss – saying he’s gunna sue the school; sue your college; get some child protection agents fired and the like…” She rolled her eyes, “All very dramatic but we can’t take chances. He’s got the money to follow through. So it makes sense for us to release you quickly – especially as we have no tangible evidence against your dad.”

There was a long pause in which Redglare stared Cronus down and he looked back, baffled as to what she could want from him. She rolled her eyes again and slapped her hand on the table.

“Cronus. Look. We are aware that your living situation is dangerous and damaging. We are aware that your father’s is a mob boss and his gang rules the East End. We are aware of these things but we can’t do anything without evidence. So. Cronus. We need you to testify against your dad.”

Cronus felt the blood draining from his face.

“W-what?” He’ll kill me he’ll kill me he’ll kill me-

 “We can offer you all the protection you’ll need, but it’s in your best interest to-”

“No!” Cronus blurted out, half standing to his feet in agitation, “No fucking way. I don’t know what you’re talking about – my dad’s a respected businessman and I don’t have to sit here and listen to your talk shit about him.” Cronus heard the crack in his own voice and sat back down, trying to control the hammering of his heart. “Look, you said you’ve got nothing on him.”

 A muscle tensed in Pyrope’s jaw. “No. Nothing.”

“Then you can let me go, can’t you?”

*

Cronus walked home, clutching the bag that held his phone, his wallet, his college notepad and the antibiotics the hospital had discharged him with. He had spurned the offer of a lift from PC Huang, as he didn’t think his dad would be pleased with having a police car pull up outside the house.

When he walked in Dualscar was waiting for him at the kitchen table, two tumblers of whiskey in front of him.

“Sit down.”

Cronus couldn’t judge his mood, so sat down quietly, and accepted the drink that was slid across to him.

“Drink.”

Cronus drank. Wincing as the harsh liquid hit the back of his sore throat.

“You did well today.” Dualscar said, brushing an imperceptible imperfection from his pinstripe trousers, “My insider in the police station said you refused to testify against me.”

Cronus swallowed. I knew it. If I’d have agreed I would’ve come home to a gun aimed at my head. And if I hadn’t have come home, the insider would’ve killed me in my cell.

“Of course,” Cronus said. “Of course – I would never-“

Dualscar laughed, the unfamiliar twisting of his face forcing his scars to drag at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

“Yer not on trial now kiddo. Let me be clear: I’m very pleased with what you did today. Hope you’re feeling better too. Gave me a start when I got the call saying you were in hospital actually…”

Dualscar trailed off, and busied himself pouring two more generous doubles of whiskey into each of the tumblers.

“I realise, actually, that I haven’t trusted you very much when it comes to my business… and I think you’ve earned some trust.” Dualscar looked him dead in the eyes, “I have some serious issues I need to resolve with Spinerette… would you like to be involved more with the operations? I can put you on some shifts with the lads and lasses… ‘bout time you learned the ropes…”

 Cronus froze. Half of him desperately wanted to accept the offer. Yes, please, let me do you proud, I don’t want you to look at me and see weakness and filth – I don’t want the lads and lases to look at me like a stupid little kid.

But on the other hand – oh god oh no, what would I be getting into-?

                                                                You know what you’d be getting into – threatening, fighting, killing –

But there was only one answer he could give while sat in front of his father.

“Yes please dad.”

*

That night Dualscar was meeting someone who was apparently going to help him overthrow Spinereete in the East India Dockyards.

Cronus was quite looking forward to sleeping in his own bed – but around midnight the lads and lasses came over to drink and smoke – and Cronus wasn’t quite ready to get chatty with them just yet.

Instead he hauled himself back out the house started out to stroll the streets. I won’t sleep out here tonight. I can slip back in a few hours – when they’ve all passed out drunk…

He was just pushing his headphones into his ears and checking that he had enough money for cigarettes when, as he walked past the mechanics shop, a deep voice called out to him.

“Hey – uh – hey…you.”

Cronus turned and saw the long haired mechanic lad standing in the entrance and wringing his hands.

“Uh… hi.” Cronus said, stopping and squinting suspiciously over at the lad.

What the hell does he want? It’s fucking midnight.

“Look, uh, I mean only if you wanted, but – we have a sofa in our office out back. You could – I mean you don’t have to keep sleeping on the street.”

Cronus blinked, if he understood the awkward lad’s words correctly he was being offered a place to stay..?

“…Thanks. Maybe, maybe another time.”

The lad flushed and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No- uh, thanks. I might take you up on that, really. Just not tonight.” Cronus paused, then walked over.

“What’s your name?”

The lad flushed again, “Horuss, Horuss Zahak – it’s Greek…” he explained shyly.

Cronus just snorted and held out his hand for him to shake.

“Cronus Ampora. Likewise. That’s – ah – that’s quite a handshake you’ve got there, chief.”

Horuss pulled his hand back as if it’d been burned, muttering his apologies – then looked at Cronus with an appraising eye.

“You’re Greek?”

“Half-and-half. My dad’s mostly Italian.”

“Mostly?”

“S’complicated – let’s just say I’m a hundred percent an East-Ender and leave it at that.”

Horuss grinned at that. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? Kettle just boiled.”

Cronus paused – it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, for all he knew this was a trap –

Bit what else are you gunna do? Keep wandering the streets until you collapse in some alley?

“I… yeah actually, a cuppa’d be nice.”

*

Cronus sipped at his tea while he watched Horuss dig around purposefully in the engine of an old banger.

“Why’s this place 24 hours then? Who needs a mechanic at 3 in the morning?”

Horuss laughed, “More people than you’d think – and it’s not just for emergencies. Being open overnight means we can have cars fixed the next day. People appreciate that sort of speed. Means we can charge more too.”

He grinned crookedly at Cronus. The smile, combined with the big honest face smeared in oil and sweat, was strangely endearing.

Cronus squirreled that thought away for future perusal and coughed lightly.

“So why’s it always you working the late shift? Ain’t you got college?”

“University actually. My lectures start later in the day so I can afford to work the midnight to 6am shift.”

Cronus frowned, “Uni… so you’re what -20?”

Horuss frowned and busied himself back in the engine, his voice echoing through the metal as he spoke carefully.

“I’m 17. I took my A levels while at school and just went onto uni straight away – my teachers didn’t think there was much point in me waiting…”

He trailed off. Cronus assumed this was the point where people either told him he was full of shit, or started ragging on him for being such a smart-arse.

“Shit that’s amazing. I’m probably gunna fail my AS levels and you’re on your way to a degree?” He hoped the tone was full of the admiration he was aiming for, and didn’t just sound disingenuous. The small grin Horuss flicked up at him was a good sign. “Wait. You’re a child prodigy and a talented mechanic. Anything else I should know about?”

Horuss blushed and stopped his work on the engine, turning to look at Cronus appraisingly,

“Do you want to play that game where someone says three outrageous facts about themselves and you have to guess the one that’s a lie?”

Cronus snorted, “Sure.”

“Okay, well: I body build; I play violin to concert standard; I’ve had some of my painting displayed in galleries across the city.”

Cronus gaped, “Okay well now you’re just putting me to shame… I’m guessing the bodybuilding thing is true…” That or he was bitten by a radioactive bodybuilder – the kid was hench, “I’m going with painting. You don’t paint.”

Horuss laughed, “I win – I paint. I don’t play violin though – can you imagine?” He held up his huge oil-streaked hands, “If I picked up a violin I’d probably snap it in half.”

They laughed again and there was a comfortable silence where Horuss finished up his work on the engine and Conus drowned his tea.

 “Do you want to have a go – at the game?” Horuss asked lightly, as he closed the hood of the car.

Cronus started to smile, but the expression froze on his lips.

Three outrageous facts about my life – what would I even say?

My dad’s a mob boss; I’ve dismembered a body; I have no friends?

Or how about:

My dad’s a murderer; I’m a hateful bully; I could end his reign of crime with a word but I won’t?

Cronus suddenly felt ill.

“I – no. No I – look actually it’s probably safe to go home now so I-”

“Safe?” Horuss asked sharply, a frown drawing his dark brows together.

“I –look, thanks. I gotta go.”

Cronus handed him his mug and slunk away, feeling small and miserable and leaving Horuss looking incredulously after him.

*

Tuesday

Tuesday in college felt like it dragged on forever, but apart from a small disagreement with Porrim in French conversation practise it passed tolerably enough. Still, what Porrim had against him Cronus couldn’t fathom.

nous devons parler au sujet de la santé, non ? Alors ok tu aimes t’empoisonner avec des cigarettes ? Tu es le plus stupide con du monde !

- oui ? well. Well – aimerai-tu mourir de les ISTs ? tout le monde connaissent, uh – connait que – look everyone knows you’re the town bike !

It didn’t help that Porrim was better at French than him.

“De and les become des. Idiot. And what do in my spare time won’t get me a life sentence. Unlike you and your dad. It also doesn’t make tout le monde hate me either. How is being universally hated doing for your sex life?”

The teacher had stepped in as they were getting close to lashing out physically. But Cronus had avoided being sent out which he counted as a win.

What the hell is her problem with me?? He thought petulantly while on the tube home. Like, okay, she knows who dad is… but who the fuck doesn’t?

That train of thought made him think back to Horuss and the strange way he’d left things last night.

Don’t leave it like that. He’s the first person who’s shown you anything but hostility in years… not counting Mr Vantas. Mr Vantas is… alright.

Cronus bought a six pack of beer on the way home, thinking of taking them round the mechanics shop that night. He smiled widely as the shopkeep scowled at his fake ID. The man didn’t say anything though. He wouldn’t dare.

When he got home his father was talking distractedly on the phone and Edna was bustling around the kitchen, so he escaped to his room.

The radio was playing… gibberish as far as he could tell:

Hasbro crown, sour apple Abba-Zabba teeth

In poorly taken pictures antiquating on his mantlepiece

Before we only spoke in letters cut from magazines

Folk broke bear claws over gross coffee

Not as milquestoast men, as los muertos walking

Ergo the scarecrow in rare barley

Squared-off harpy to armchair: say a prayer for me

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly

I also feel that you could learn a lot from a mummy

He shut it off scowling, and was almost grateful when Edna cawed up that dinner was ready.

Over dinner, which was a very English attempt at curry, Dualscar informed Cronus of the situation.

“Since I’m going to be including you more in the operation, I might as well be frank with what’s happening.” He began, tearing at a Tesco naan, “I’m trying to drive Spinerette out of the East India Docks. I’ve only tolerated her for presence so long because there have been … perks… to our business relationship.”

Cronus fought to keep his face blank.

“So why are you going back on that now?”

“Because she’s been branching out, it seems,” Dualscar said darkly. “She’s started smuggling in workers. Immigrants who pay through the teeth to enter the country and then work long hours in horrible factory conditions to pay back their debts – which mysteriously keep increasing-”

“Slavery.” Cronus said slowly, the low horror he felt turning his food into ash in his mouth, “Modern day slavery.”

“Yes.” Dualscar drummed his finger on the table while he found the words he needed. “I can support a lot of things. But I can’t support that. What can I say? There’s honour amongst thieves.” Dualscar snorted humourlessly and took a bite of the curry, scowling for a moment at his plate.  

Edna better stick to food she’s good at or Dad’ll kill off Mikey. A hysteric thought whispered as Cronus tried to force more rice into his shrinking stomach.

“So,” he managed, “how are you going to drive her out? Aren’t you, well, evenly matched?”

“Pretty much, but I’m outsourcing. Makara from South of the River is stepping in to help.” Dualscar’s expression twisted into his approximation of an innocent face – his lying face – “Isn’t one of his nephews at your college. Kelvin or something-?”

Cronus almost rolled his eyes. Dualscar knew everything about all the big players in London – down to the birthdays of grandkids and senior school crushes – pretending he didn’t know his informants name was overkill.

“Kurloz.” He said shortly.

“Yes. That’s it.” Dualscar ate a few more spoonful’s of the lacklustre curry, “And how’s Kurloz doing – he’s not ill or anything?” Dualscar’s tone was light and conversational, but Cronus could only hear the deception.

He wants to know why he hasn’t heard from his little informant recently. Well sorry dad I fucked that one up for you. Hope that doesn’t foul things up with Makara for you…

“I wouldn’t know.” Was all he said, “We don’t talk.”

Dualscar shrugged and dropped the matter.

“At any rate Makara’s lending me enough of his gang to flush her out. I’ll be splitting my dockyard profits with him for the next five years which is a ballache – but needs must.”

Cronus nodded, not really listening now, “Mm. Dad, can I go out for a bit tonight.”

Dualscar’s eyes narrowed, “Where?”

Cronus almost lied, but thought better of it.

“To see my friend Horuss.”

To his surprise Dualscar smiled then, a genuine smile, his eyes almost sparkling.

“Of course. That’s – yes of course.”

He’s happy I’ve got a friend.

For reason’s he didn’t quite understand, Cronus wanted to cry.

*

He met Horuss at midnight and spent no time convincing him that a few beers couldn’t hurt the cars. They spent a few hours chatting and laughing, and Cronus could almost feel Horuss skirting around topics he thought might make Cronus bolt, for which he was absurdly grateful.

Cronus leaned a lot about Horuss, like the fact that Horuss had a step sister he saw occasionally, but it was mostly him and his dad at home.

“The lot that work here are like my brothers and sisters… and aunts and uncles really.” Horuss explained, wiping his sweaty face with a rag after finishing up the first car of the night. “What about you?”

“Just me and dad.” And the lads and lasses. But they’re the furthest thing from family…

Cronus changed the subject quickly, and went home at 3 o clock, knowing he’d suffer in class tomorrow for staying up so late – but not caring in the slightest.

In fact when he made it to Mr Vantas’ office on Wednesday, he was so brimming with happiness about his new-found friendship with the huge Greek lad that when Mr Vantas asked how he was doing, he replied

“Fine!” with such a genuine smile, the counsellor looked taken aback.

“That’s wonderful, but - look, Cronus, I want to apologise if my actions the other day got you in any trouble. I wasn’t thinking… long-term, shall we say? I just – you told me some worrying things.”

Cronus’ smile faded. “Uh, yeah. Look can we not talk about… home?”

Vantas nodded. “Actually that was what I was thinking. Actually what I want to talk about today is ways to manage your anger issues.”

“I don’t have-”

Vantas held up a finger and Cronus subsided, trying not to flush at how blatant a lie he’d been about to yell.

“Have you heard of CBT, Cronus? Cognitive Behavioural Therapy?”

“Sounds like a load of shit if I’m being honest,” Cronus said shrugging. Still stinging from the annoyingly just accusation of anger issues.

Vantas snorted, “I thought that too. But as it happens I’m married to a very respectable psychologist who tells me otherwise. So why don’t we start with some CBT and see if we can make some positive changes in your behaviour.”

Cronus squirmed a little under his gaze – which had a little more “honest concern” in it than he was used to.

“Ok. Fine. So what do I have to do?”

Vantas smiled, small creases appears around his eyes and mouth and melting away some his stern veneer.

“First of all – and don’t laugh – I need you to count to ten every time you get angry.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Count to ten, then remove yourself from the situation if possible. Write down what has made you angry and what you want to do about it. Then write down the consequences of actually doing that.”

Vantas slid him a small notepad.

“I don’t expect you to be able to do that every time.” He said, smiling tiredly, “You need to train your reflexes – and anger is a tough thing to tame.” Something in his voice made Cronus think he was speaking from personal experience, “But I expect you to try.”

Cronus nodded carefully, accepting the notepad.

The rest of their session was spent on talking about his classes, but later when Cronus opened the notepad he found a scrawled mobile number and a note:

This is my personal number. I’m not the police so if you’re ever in a situation you can’t manage or need to get away from I hope you’ll consider calling me.

The note gave him a weird bubble of hope in his chest and that evening when his dad told him he was going out with the lads and lasses for the first time he clutched the notepad like a protective shield.

“I’ve got some shit to hash out with Makara,” his dad explained, tying a tie expertly and reaching for his suit jacket. “The lads and lasses are gunna show you the extent of our territory and few a few key people and places. Watch yer mouth around them. If you come back with a broken nose I’m gunna assume it was your fault.”

That night he went out with Mikey, Rehin, Sara and Viv. Not one of them had been involved in the Thames incident, but he could still feel the hostility rolling off of Viv in waves.

She was older than the others, and had been a part of Dualscar’s gang before Cronus was even born. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she thought of him as a bratty kid.

Mikey was as jovial as ever, slapping him on the back regularly and calling him “mate” and “bruv”. Sara followed his lead while Rehin was more reserved, nodding once when they met then falling into thoughtful silence as they began to walk the streets.

“Aiight so basically if we’re going by tube stops, we have all of zone two on the central line – and can get away with Limehouse and Bow Church on the DLR – but no closer of Spinny’s lot will close in.” Mikey began, as they loped along the highstreet.

Cronus nodded, this was basic stuff, but he wasn’t about the point that out. His dad’s warning about broken noses still ringing in his ears.

“When yer dad gets his deliveries in the docks Spinny messages him and he gets it all picked up by lorry and taken to a warehouse in Bromley-By-Bow. Most of the deals are done in Mario’s but if he wants a friendlier vibe – with new clients – or if he wants ‘em drunk and not thinkin’ he takes ‘em to the Salmon and Ball.”

Cronus kept nodding, but his anger level was definitely at irate now. He knew all of this. What the fuck was the point of telling him what he already knew?

Luckily, before he could get any more wound up, Rehin interjected.

“This is boring. The kid’s not an idiot. Let’s go make some collections.”

Mikey shrugged his assent casually and the next few hours were spent leaning meaningfully on bars or hanging in shop doorways while barkeeps and shopkeeps ponied up protection money.

A few of them made note of Cronus’ presence, their eyes lingering on his face before flicking away nervously. No one said anything though. Not while Viv stood before them, picking her teeth with her flick-knife and grinning lazily, like a cat waiting to pounce.

After midnight things got more tense. Certain bars and hang outs hand to be checked for arrogant members of Spinny’s gang, and certain establishments had to be more forcibly shaken down for their protection money.

“Oh c’mon boss,” Sara said sweetly, flicking her curls over her shoulder with a practised toss of her head, “Yesterday you told us today. Today you gotta pay the piper – that’s the rules.” Her voice was sweet and bubbly, but the barman’s bloody lip and grey face belied the innocence of her words.

“Look, look, we had a nasty fight in here last week – I had to pay damages – customers don’t wanna sit in a bomb site do they?” The man tried an ingratiating smile, but the blood on his teeth rather ruined the effect, “I’m a little short right now, but if you could give me until after the weekend – you know how much the commuters drink on a Friday night-!”

“Five days?” Viv laughed, “We only ask you pay up once a month TJ, that’s not unreasonable is it?”

“Well, no-”

“But this is the second month you’ve fucked us around,” Viv’s voice was suddenly dangerous and the barkeep shrank in on himself. “Is that reasonable behaviour?”

“I-“

“Five days is a long time to keep the big man waiting.” She said, sucking her teeth in exaggerated concern, “Tell you what, we’ll give you those five days if you pay up a month and a half’s worth.”

“But that’s – another 500 on top of-?”

“Mate,” Mikey said with his easy smile stretching his lips, “The other option is we break your legs. Or we go upstairs and get Chloe and Alex out of their beds and break their legs. You saw what happened over at the White Hart. We’re not havin’ a laugh.”

TJ closed his eyes in dismay, “Okay,” he croaked, “Okay I’ll have it all on Monday. I promise.”

“Well don’t promise to us!” Sara said lightly, “Promise to little Chloe and Alex!”

“Good talking to you TJ,” Mikey added, as if they’d just been chatting about the weather.

As they prepared to leave, viv turned back to the bar, “Get me a bottle of that Captain Morgans will you?”

“And an Absolut,” Rehin muttered.

“And an Absolut, TJ.”

TJ handed over the bottles wordlessly and they left.

Outside the pub Cronus and Mikey lit up cigarettes and Viv took a swig of rum, smacking her lips appreciatively.

“I bet that dumb fuck borrows money from Zak,” Rehin said quietly and the group laughed.

Before Cronus could even ask Mikey turned to him and winked,

“Zak’s one of us in’ he? So TJ will pay us a month and a half’s worth and then be paying Zak interest on an emergency loan – and all the money goes into your dad’s pockets.”

“Which means our pockets too!” Sara chirped.

They headed back at 2am, since Cronus had college the next day and Viv had declared it was “a quiet night”. Cronus was just glad things hadn’t been too bad. They’d been illegal as anything, and he’d seen a few roughed up faces, but no one had died.

As they walked past the Canrobert Street mechanics shop he saw Horuss look up from the engine he was working on, and start forward, grinning when he saw Cronus - then flinch back when he saw who he was with.

Cronus grimaced and tried to convey with a shrug that he’d explain later. Thankfully no one else seemed to notice the small exchange, and that night Cronus slept with a relatively light heart.

*

Next Monday

It was almost a week later when Cronus saw Horuss again, as he’d been out every night with the Lads and Lasses learning his father’s trade. It went well beyond smuggling and extortion and Cronus was pretty sure that, despite how much he was being shown, it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Also, much to his discomfort, many more shopkeeps and business owners recognised him now - greeting him with a tense smile and a wave, and occasionally casually offering him thing on the house, their sickly smiles letting him know they thought they were earning themselves into Dualscar’s good books…

Cronus was just getting off a bus when he looked over and saw Horuss coming out of Titan Gym, gym bag slung over once huge shoulder and hair still wet from the shower.

“Hey!” Cronus called from the other side of the road, and Horuss grinned and waited for Cronus to jaywalk dangerously across the busy road.

“Hey look, the other night – I would’ve said hi but-”

“It’s alright,” Horuss said with a shrug, “I figured I didn’t want to make myself known to… those people you were with.”

Cronus cringed but Horuss smacked him on the arm playfully (the gesture hurting a little more than Cronus thought he realised).

“Don’t worry about it. Look, I was going to go up Kelly’s for pie and mash – would you like to come?”

Cronus grinned his assent and a bus ride later he was watching Horuss put away two pies, two servings of mash and a pint of liquor to himself.

“What?” Horuss asked shyly after swallowing his mouthful, “I just spent two hours in the gym – I’m starving.”

Cronus laughed, “Man I ain’t judging – I’m impressed.” Cronus could barely manage one pie and was busy trailing mash around in the pool of liquor left on his plate. “I think I smoke too much to have much of an appetite.” He admitted sheepishly.

Horuss snorted. “True. What’re you on now? Your second pack of the day?”

“First!” Cronus said indignantly, then added, a little shame-faced, “I’ve got two left.”

“Oh my apologies,” Horrus rumbled, rolling his eyes. “Did you know they kill you?”

It was Cronus’ turn for eye rolling, “Oh shit! No way? God you’d have thought they’d put that on the packet.”

They laughed easily and Cronus sipped his Sprite, basking in the glow of his… friend.

Horuss is my friend.

The thought made him beam and Horuss raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. However once he’d mopped up the last of his liquor he did push his plate away and regard Cronus over steepled fingers.

“..What?”

“Can I say something without having you run out the door?”

Cronus felt his good feeling go a little stale in his mouth, but nodded hesitantly.

“Sure.”

“Cronus… look I know what your dad does. I know the sort of business you’re being pulled into. And I don’t give a- a damn – if you’ll excuse my French. I don’t care.”

Cronus looked a Horuss suspiciously, but he kept talking, as if sensing Cronus’ incipient protest.

“I really don’t. I like you as a person and I don’t think it’s your fault that you get caught up in situations outside of the law.” Horuss paused to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “Okay I’m done. You can stop hiding behind your Sprite.”

Cronus put his can down, a little self-consciously. “You really don’t-”

“Nope.”

“But-”

“I’ve said my piece. …Are you going to finish that pie?”

*

Cronus tried to hang onto the bright bubble of Horuss’ words when he was out that night with the lads and lasses. But it was Monday. And time for TJ to pay up.

“Listen – listen – I couldn’t get a loan – and Zak’s interest was too high -” TJ cried from the chair he was tied to, “Please don’t hurt my kids – I’m begging-”

“We can’t do shit all with begging.” Sara put in sweetly. “We made a deal. You said you’d have the money.”

“I’m sorry.” TJ was sobbing now, straining his hands against his duct-tape cuffs to no avail.

“Sorry’s worth even less to us.” Viv said bluntly, “But you’re a lucky man TJ.”

TJ looked up at her, tear streaked faced suddenly glowing with desperate hope.

“Am I?”

“Yes TJ,” she said softly, “Because tonight we have Cronus with us – it’s an initiation of sorts. And I think he’s a little young to be breaking the legs of children.”

Both TJ and Cronus relaxed slightly, the ball of tension in the pit of Cronus’ stomach releasing somewhat - Until Viv turned to him with a grin and handed him the crowbar from her bag.

“He’s old enough to break your legs though TJ. In fact, this should be fun!”

TJ started to moan “no no no” under his breath and Cronus gripped the crowbar in his hands like it was a snake about to rear up and bite him.

Think about what Horuss said – it’s not your fault –

                Of course it’s my fucking fault!! If I break TJ’s legs it’s MY fault!

“Go on Cronus,” Viv said softly, “I’m excited to tell your dad how well you’ve done.”

Cronus swallowed, tasting bile in his mouth.

“Cronus – please-“ TJ moaned.

                I can’t muck this up – Dad’ll disown me – he practically said so –

“Cronus.” Viv’s voice was sharp and commanding.

Cronus raised the Crowbar.

Chapter Text

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Cronus whispered, standing just outside of the mechanics shop so he could continue sucking down nicotine.

Horuss stood on his side of the entrance wiping his hands on a rag and squinting nervously out at the dark night.

“Is… everything okay?”

Cronus opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he took another drag on his cigarette to buy time.

“Cronus...? It’s four in the morning, don’t you have college?”

“Did you mean it?” Cronus snapped, fear and guilt becoming anger. The second the irate words left his mouth he regretted it, but Horuss didn’t snap back, instead he shifted his weight slowly and crossed his arms, his face pinched in worry.

“…What did you do?”

Those quiet words were as good as a no for Cronus. He flicked a tight smile at Horuss, threw what was his cigarette aside, and turned to walk away – but a strong hand wrapped around his arm, holding him in place

“Cronus?”

Cronus hung his head, unwilling to turn around.

“Cronus, please - ” Horuss sounded as miserable as Cronus felt, and he let out a tiny shaky breath, wondering how to explain what had happened without having his only friend turn on him in disgust.

“There was… a man…”

“Did you kill him?” Horuss’ tone was matter of fact, but the question stung.

“No!” Cronus cried, trying to shake away from him, and giving up, crying weakly when he realised it was futile.

Horuss sighed and pulled him into a hug – the gesture so natural and comforting that it took Cronus’ breath away.

“I did mean what I said. I’m a man of my word… Do you want to talk about it?”

Cronus let his head rest on Horuss’ shoulder and breathed in the scents of oil and sweat and soap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… safe.

“I want to go to bed. I don’t want to go home.” He mumbled, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth.

Horuss considered for a moment, his hand gently stroking between Cronus’ shoulder blades like it was the most normal thing in the world - apparently oblivious of his friend’s shock.

“Come on.” He said gently, tugging Cronus through into the back office and lowering him onto the sofa.

“I have to work for two more hours. Have a nap. I’ll wake you at six – don’t panic if a stranger comes in here, it’ll just be Matt or Jinan coming to check the records… I’ll tell them to be quiet. ”

Horuss turned to go, but Cronus reached out to grab his arm,

“Wait!” Horuss cocked his head expectantly. “I- I didn’t kill anyone.”

Horuss looked at him with a mixture of – what, pity? Sadness? Anger? And gently unhooked his fingers, coming back to sit on the edge of the sofa.

“I know.”

“I hurt someone.” Cronus whispered, hiding his face in his hands, terrified for the moment Horuss’ calm façade would crack.

“I figured.” Cronus risked a peek between his fingers and Horuss’ face still looked the same – a little sad, a little drawn. Maybe he doesn’t understand-

“Badly.”

Horuss sighed and leaned over to grip his shoulder with his usual exaggerated gentleness.

“I really don’t blame you-”

“But I did it.”

Horuss sighed, “Look, we could argue over whether you – a seventeen year old raised alone in a house by a mob boss and surrounded by violence and crime – are one hundred percent culpable for your actions tonight or not – for the next few hours… but I have to work.”

Horuss sat back but let his hand linger on Cronus’ arm.

“Bottom line is I don’t think a real bad guy would be so eaten up with guilt. Go to sleep.”

Cronus drifted off fitfully, trying not to feel cold without Horuss’ warm hand on his shoulder.

*

Horuss shook him awake at six and handed him a cup of coffee.

Cronus struggled to sit up and Horuss sat down next to him heavily, looking tired and worn from his night’s work.

“Don’t get too close,” he said, struggling not to yawn, “I’m gross. Need a shower.”

Cronus snorted, “Me too mate.”

As he sipped at the coffee, Horuss unbuckled the top of his overalls and pulled the hairtie from his ponytail, letting his thick black hair fall around his face.

He could be a mythical creature, Cronus thought muzzily, like a – a centaur, or an elf or –

Cronus swallowed the thought with another gulp of coffee and tried not to think about the events of last night.

The coffee was bitter, but hot and so good. As he sipped he could feel the caffeine begin to thrum in his veins, making the ache from his all-too-little sleep time recede enough to focus on his friend’s face –

Which was drawn in concentration.

“Spit it out then.” Cronus said lightly, giving him a nudge.

Horuss gave him a small, self-conscious smile.

“Look,” he began, “I’ve been thinking… When’s your birthday?”

Cronus blinked at him. “February 17^th. Why?”

Horuss nodded, “Good. Cronus that’s less than a month anyway. You’ll be 18.”

Cronus squinted up at him through the steam of his coffee. “…I think I see what you’re getting at. But being a legal adult isn’t gunna help me-”

The look of earnest hope on Horuss’ face was heart breaking.

“You could move out! Go to the police – get a restraining order, you could-”

Cronus smacked him lightly in the thigh, and Horuss faltered.

“What?”

“Mate, that’s… that’s a nice idea. But he’d kill me.” Horuss opened his mouth, but Cronus shook his head and continued, “There’s no way out of this! Believe me I’ve thought about it but – Look I could bleach my hair and move half way across the world and the lads and lasses would still find me and dad would still get the last word.”

“But – but he’s your dad.” Horuss said incredulously, radiating such bewilderment that Cronus felt a spike of anger born of jealously and exhaustion.

“For someone so clever you can really be fucking thick can’t you?”

Horuss looked away, but not before Cronus saw the hurt in his eyes.

What are you doing?? This is maybe the one person in the fucking world who can stand your company!

“…Sorry.” He muttered, leaning in to nudge his arm against Horuss’. “I – I didn’t mean that. At all. Horrible. Sorry.”

Horuss smiled crookedly and clapped a heavy hand onto his shoulder.

“It’s okay. But I am asking you to leave. You’ve got to go to college and I’ve got to go to bed.”

Cronus left with the nagging feeling that he really didn’t deserve Horuss Zahak as a friend.

*

Tuesday

Dualscar didn’t notice that his son had been out all night and looked like seven kinds of crap, which was a small blessing, but college was a nightmare.

Apart from the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open in his classes, every time he did close his eyes, all he could see was TJ's agonised face as he bought the crowbar up for the second time.

                Don’t, don’t please – please Cronus- Cronus- I- argh-

“Cronus?”

Cronus blinked. His literature teacher was staring down at him, irritation written plain across his face.

“Hmm?”

“My class is not the place to be catching up on lost sleep.”

“I- yeah, sorry.” He muttered, swallowing the anger that bloomed in his chest and counting silently to ten.

Under the pretence of making notes he pulled out the counsellor’s notebook and scrawled:

                Lit teacher. Needs a punch in the face. Don’t need to get expelled tho.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, if agonisingly slowly, and by four o clock he was on the central line. It was just before the commuters vomited forth from their offices and made the tubes tiny sweaty underground prisons, and Cronus basked a little in having a seat and being able to spread his legs as much as he wanted.

As he was flicking through his phone for something to listen to he noticed a figure walking slowly down the carriage out of the corner of his eye.

It was a young woman, dressed eclectically in a hijab, a silver puffer jacket right out of the nineties and uggs. She was putting packs of tissues on the free seats between passengers, walking slowly and deliberately, not making eye contact with anyone.

Oh not this old fucking chestnut. Cronus thought derisively as she placed the tissues and a little note next to him.

As she passed he read the note and, predictably, it was the same old shtick:

Please help me, I have to look after myself and my little brother

He is very sick and needs food and medicine

Please buy these tissues, thank you, god bless.

Cronus couldn’t help but note that the message was printed on specially cut cards, and that she had a shiny handbag full of them – But whether she was genuinely in need or not, he didn’t have any change anyway.

When she came back down the carriage, hand held out expectantly, he shook his head.

“Sorry darlin’.”

Instead of collecting the tissues and moving on, however, she stopped and, without turning to face him, hissed: “I strongly urge to buy the fucking tissues… Cronus.”

Cronus blinked, unsettled by the malice in her voice.

She must be a lass… or… or one of Spinny’s..?

“I really don’t have any change.” He muttered, flinching as she snapped her hand out in front of his face.

“Pretend.” She mouthed, her eyes equal parts furious and exasperated.

“Uh, here you go love,” Cronus said loudly, pressing an imaginary coin into her hand.

She smiled sweetly, and continued her progress down the carriage, calling, “Fank you sir! Fank you, god bless you,” over her shoulder.

Encouraged, a few other people in the carriage bought the tissues, too.

Cronus waited until the tube stopped and the woman got off to move onto the next carriage before opening the tissues.

As he suspected, there was a message inside.

Tell your dad to watch himself

He’s getting in over his head with M

A gentleman’s agreement don’t mean nothing to a madman

Shoulda stuck with his Mademoiselle

This ain’t going to end well

You mark my words

E

Cronus turned the card over in his hands.

E? Who the fuck could that–? Oh. Oh no.

Empress.

London might be divided between the various bosses, but all of them answered to the Empress. Even Medigo – although it took five years of bloody fighting to settle that, according to his dad.

Empress owned London – more than Queen Liz or the PM ever did.

She was also Cronus’ aunt on his mother’s side. Not that she ever tried to establish any sort of familial link or closeness with him or his dad’s side of the family.

…until now, apparently.

What could be so bad that Empress feels the need to step in? What does she know about Makara?

Cronus tried not to worry about it, but when he got home he delivered the card immediately to Dualscar.

Dualscar regarded the card for a long moment, but instead of looking unsettled as Cronus had thought he might, he simply laughed and tore it up.

“Yer auntie doesn’t know everything. I’m on top of this.” He said dismissively. “Now why don’t you visit this friend of yours - Horuss right? I’ve got negotiations south of the River to attend to and you shouldn’t be here alone…”

So you are worried.

Seeming to read his mind, Dualscar flashed him a shark-like grin.

“Oh don’t look like that. We’re flushing ma Cherie out of the East India Dockyards next week, but a few technical points of our agreement need to be hammered out, that’s all.”

“Yeah… okay.”  Cronus said quietly, trying to think of his dad being jumped by Makara’s gang in some alley somewhere, or Spinny’s gang learning of the treachery and coming to burn their house down –

“Cronus?”

Cronus blinked. Horuss’ worried face looked up at him from half-way under a van.

“Cronus are you alright?”

“I… What?” I was at home a second ago. I was talking to dad I – “How did I get here?”

Horuss gave him a searching look then pulled himself out from under the van and stood up.

“Cronus are you feeling okay? You look like you might-”

Horuss caught him even as his legs gave out under him.

“Cronus?”

“I’m sorry I- ” for some reason fear and confusion had become laughter and Cronus shook with hysterics in Horuss’ arms for a long while before he could find his own feet.

“What – I don’t- what happened? You were fine a second ago!” Horuss’ anxious face blurred then solidified in front of his eye, and Cronus sobered enough to talk.

“A second ago I was talking to my dad at home.” He said, shrugging helplessly at Horuss’ confusion, “How… how did I get here? What was I even talking about just now? What time is it?”

Horuss frowned, his thick brows and impressive stature making him look for all the world like a statue of a brooding philosopher.

“It’s one o clock Tuesday ni- Wednesday morning.” He said slowly, “You were telling me about college. About how much you wanted to punch your literature teacher earlier. You… walked here, about forty minutes ago.”

Cronus blinked. “But - I got home just after five. What did I do between then and walking here?”

“I don’t know.” Horuss looked upset for some reason, but Cronus was still reeling and couldn’t find the sympathy in him to do anything about that.

Instead he clapped his hands together, and glanced around at the shop. The other mechanic had his headphones on and didn’t seem to have noticed the little outburst.

“I should… get out of your hair, you’ve got work to do.” He said, unable to meet Horuss’ eye. The Greek lad just snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think it’s a good time for you to go somewhere by yourself?” A glance at his face let Cronus know Horuss was worried for him, not irritated at him, as he’d feared. “Let’s have a cigarette break.”

Once outside in the frosty air Cronus managed to calm down a little. To his surprise Horuss took one of his cigarettes and joined him.

“Did you know they kill you?” Cronus joked weakly.

“Oh…damn. You’d have thought they’d put that on the packet.” Horuss replied with a wry smile, then added with a shrug, “Once in a while can’t hurt.”

Cronus managed a chuckle and Horuss put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Cronus bit his lip, then added, “Every time I see you I swear I just drag so much drama into your life. I – yeah. Sorry”

Horuss shrugged, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth, “My life’s dull without it I assure you… But you should tell your counsellor-person at college about this… blacking out or – or losing time thing that’s going on.”

“…Yeah.”

“It’s… I’m no psychologist but it’s indicative of trauma.”

Cronus rolled his eyes and punched one huge bicep.

“You think?”

*

Wednesday

“You’re losing time?” Mr Vantas asked, his face lined with concern. “Cronus, how long have you been disassociating like this?”

“I don’t know.” Cronus lied, trying to stop the inevitable flashback images from blinding him.

“Okay, let’s try that again, with more truth.”

“I don’t – I…” Mr Vantas’ eyes burned with intensity. Cronus deflated. “Since I was suspended last autumn, but it’s getting worse- ”

“Because your father is involving you more in his business.” Vantas finished gravely. Cronus gaped.

“How-?”

Vantas sighed and rubbed his forehead between thumb and finger.

“You are not the first person I have counselled in these matters. And it’s an old script, Cronus.” He added, his deep voice tinged with an unusual sadness. “I know how it goes and how it can end.”

Before Cronus could reply, the counsellor continued,

“Look, Cronus, I’m not the police. I’m not a lawyer. I’m here for your mental health and your peace of mind. So why don’t you help me help you, here, and explain a little about the situations you’re involved in.”

Cronus almost protested, but the look on Vantas’ face was sincere, his slightly outstretched hand an entreaty Cronus could no longer refuse.

So Cronus took a deep breath and, keeping his eyes resolutely closed, explained carefully about the body in the basement he’d had to hack up; the lads and lasses he’d seen bruised and bloody and broken; the people he’d threatened and the things Viv and her gang did to them. The thing he’d done to TJ-

Cronus stopped, every muscle drawn tight as a bow-string, hands trying to claw their way into his stomach.

“I… I didn’t want to.” He said, voice no more than a low whisper, “I really didn’t – didn’t want to but-”

“It’s okay, that’s enough Cronus.” Vantas said quietly. “It’s better these things are out on the table so we can talk about them honestly… But let’s take a break there. Do you want a drink?”

Cronus nodded and murmured his thanks when a hot cup of tea was pushed into his hands.

Vantas took a gulp of his own tea and then set it aside to steeple his fingers in their customary position.

“At the moment, it seems clear to be that you have a significant problem with dealing with the actions you’re forced into.” He began, the fire in his eyes still too bright for Cronus to hold his gaze for long, but he no longer found them as uncomfortably penetrating as he once did. It was almost comforting to know someone cared as much as Vantas did, even if it was just his job.

“You can’t get out of these acts with incurring the wrath of the Orph- of your father,” the counsellor continued, “but since they cause you such distress it’s clear that your brain is trying to protect you from the memories, by disassociating when you think too much about them.”

“But I get flashbacks all the time-”

“That might suggest PTSD.” Vantas sighed and reclaimed his tea, “Honestly I’d like to refer you to an actual psychologist, but since we can’t do that without risking your dad finding out I’ll talk to my wife as soon as she gets back from her book tour. She’s quite prominent in the field…”

Vantas paused to take a sip of his tea, then levelled Cronus with an almost pitying gaze.

“Cronus,” he began softly, “How do you feel about your dad? What’s your relationship like?”

“I…”

Cronus found he couldn’t think of a word to say.

His dad… cared for him. In that he was fed, housed, and clothed.

His dad also cared for him by letting him be a part of his business. Which was destroying his mental health.

His dad screamed at him and pushed him into walls.

His dad was worried that he was lonely and happy when he found a friend.

“I…” Cronus tried again.

I hate him?

But that wasn’t even remotely true, since Cronus knew that he spent half of his life desperately seeking his father’s approval.

And the other half terrified that he’ll just kill me…

“It’s understandable that you would have mixed feelings about him.” Vantas said softly, “He’s…  putting you in danger to say the least. But he’s also your dad.”

Cronus nodded stiffly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Look our time’s nearly up.” Vantas said, giving Cronus a knowing look, “We’ll leave this for now. But when you come see me on Friday I want to talk about this more, okay?”

“Okay.” Cronus was almost absurdly grateful. He didn’t fancy weeping like a child in front of the counsellor again any time soon.

“Let me see your notepad.”

Cronus handed over the notepad and Vantas snorted with laughter at the last note he’d written:

Counsellor’s fucking secretary. Don’t know what his fucking problem is but he’s looking at me with a face like a slapped arse. Counting to ten bcos Mr V will probably expel me on the spot if I start anything.

“Wise move.”

*

Thursday

Cronus came into college on Thursday in an agitated mood.

The night before he had gone to see a film with Horuss. He felt uncomfortable inviting him round, but it also felt weird just hanging out when Horuss was at work too, so they'd settled on the cinema… And it’d been fun. The film had been ludicrously action-packed – so they spent time in the pub afterwards mocking it and talking about – well, nothing much. But nothing horrible and mob-related either.

Cronus had returned home elated – only to be met by Dualscar’s stony face.

For a heart-stuttering moment Cronus thought he was in trouble– but as it turned out –

                “The sooner this partnership with Makara ends, the better. I keep seeing members of his gang- his fucking clowns or whatever he calls them -on my streets – with this shitty little grin on their faces like they think I won’t do anything...”

His dad had actually gnashed his teeth in fury. But the thing that had really put a dampener on his evening was what he said next:

                “I’m sending the lads and lasses out tonight to rough up any of Makara’s clowns they see. You’ll go with them. And they get one warning. Tomorrow night, if they still haven’t got the message, you’ll do a little more than bloody noses, let me tell you.”

Knowing he might be out the next two nights with the lads and lasses made it feel like he was walking around under a black cloud, so when Porrim Maryam followed him up the corridor after his French class he wasn’t prepared for her onslaught.

Porrim was resplendent as ever, wearing a white crop top above a long clinging skirt, high platform boots adding to her already considerable height. The long shiny twists of her hair looking to Cronus like the tails of a whip.

Time for a flagellating.

“Cronus-” She began, lips twisted in anger even as she approached.

“Porrim! Lovely to see you as ever.” He spat out, his forced smile already straining his face.

“I heard a rumour about you-” she began, jabbing a finger into his chest –

Which he caught and manged to bring up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her hand before she snatched it back, outraged.

“Slow down!” he exclaimed, loud enough for the students passing by to hear the exchange, “I know you’re obsessed with me but, look we can take this somewhere a little more private if you’d prefer.” The lecherous wink was a nice touch, he thought, as Porrim clenched her fists and twisted her mouth around the piercings in her lip.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” she snapped back, “Nice little private spot to… oh I don’t know – break my kneecaps?”

Cronus froze, the knowing smirk on Porrim’s lips let him know this wasn’t just a stab in the dark. But how could she know-?

“Getting involved in daddy’s business aren’t you?” she whispered, pushing his unresisting body up against the corridor wall so they looked for all the world like a couple snatching a moment between classes. “It must be a fantastic power trip for you – I bet you can’t wait to take over and start torturing and murdering people in your own right.”

Cronus couldn’t think of a single quip to come back with.

“How do you-? Why are you-? What the fuck do you want?” he growled, slamming his hands into the wall behind him, and furiously trying to count - one two three four five six –

“The man you hurt has two kids.” Porrim continued relentlessly, her every word like broken glass twisting in his gut, “He’s a single dad. How’s he supposed to care for them now? How can he take them to school, carry them to bed – run his business to support them now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cronus hissed, screwing his eyes shut as the bloody memory surfaced. Don’t hit her don’t touch her don’t get yourself expelled –

                Cronus oh god oh please not the other one please please I can’t – Cronus-!

One two three four five –

“But then I suppose you don’t care what happens to the people left over after you’ve got what you wanted,” Porrim purred, pushing her body up against him like she was daring him to react.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. My dad’s a businessman.” Cronus fell back on the easy lie as he dug his nails in as hard as he could into his own thighs. She’s trying to get a rise out of you, get you expelled –

Cronus no Cronus please! My kids! I’m begging you –

                One two three –

“You could stop him! You alone have the ability to stop your dad – go to the police, tell them everything you know – but you won’t, will you?” Porrim snarled, curling her fists into the front of his shirt, her face millimetres from his own, “You fucking disgust me.”

TJ’s face twisted in agony, his cry coming out low and raw, his whole body convulsing in pain and shock. The look he fixed Cronus with as he raised the crowbar the second time was broken, hopeless, anguished –

                Please. Please don’t. Cronus I – I’ll do anything, I –

                                One two –

“Did you hear me?” Porrim snarled, slamming him back into the wall.

                                One tw –

“You disgust me.”

                                One –

Porrim spat full in his face and Cronus broke, shoving her back as hard as he could, and running down the corridor, trying to ignore the hard thud of her hitting the other wall and the outraged scream that followed.

Oh god oh god I’m gunna be expelled what do I do -?

He found himself unconsciously dashing towards the student well-being services.

Mr Vantas, he’ll help – I tried I really did –

When he arrived at the counsellor’s door, however, it was locked and Mr Vantas was nowhere to be seen.

Cronus let out a tiny moan of frustration – and then whipped round at the sound of a throat being cleared.

“What are you doing here? Thursday’s one of the days I don’t have to see your face.”

Vantas’ secretary was leaning over his desk and looking at Cronus with unbridled contempt written all over his face.

Don’t get mad, don’t make it worse – one two three four five six seven eight nine TEN.

Cronus took a steadying breath, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Is Mr Vantas around?”

“What does it look like?” The secretary snapped back.

Cronus swallowed, and tried again, “Will he be back later?”

“Who’s to say?” The secretary was smirking now and Cronus could feel his calm shattering -

“Look can you just give me a straight answer?” Cronus snapped, “I really need to see him – it’s important!”

The secretary paused, then pulled his face into a look of exaggerated worry.

“Did something… bad?”

Cronus ground his teeth, then decided honestly was probably the best idea, given the situation “Yes,” he admitted with a sigh.

The secretary walked round from behind his desk, but instead of leaving to find Mr Vantas as Cronus had hoped, the man came to stand uncomfortably close to Cronus instead.

Why does this keep happening -?

The man was slender but easily a head taller than Cronus, and the proximity alone was raising his hackles.

“Did you hurt him?” The man bit out, and Cronus took a step back at the menace behind the question.

“I – who?” The bewilderment he felt took all the anger out of him like he’d been winded.

“Mituna. My brother.” The secretary said, closing the gap between them again, and making Cronus shrink in on himself. “If you’ve hurt him I’ll not only stop you from seeing Vantas, I’ll call the fucking police.” The man’s face was suddenly deadly, and he raised a long finger to jab his threat in Cronus’ face.

“I – it wasn’t – I haven’t even seen Mituna today!” Cronus was suddenly crying out of a mixture of anger, fear and frustration, and flushed in shame.

The secretary took a step back, confused.

“I – oh. No. Don’t-”

There was a click behind them and the door to the counsellor’s office opened. Cronus didn’t turn, but kept his face buried in his hands, trying to stop the shaking and crying before anyone else could see.

“…Si for fucks sake.” Mr Vantas said wearily from behind him.

“I thought-”

“It was hard enough convincing the head to give you this job. Don’t lose it by harassing students.”

Si held his hands up, “Sorry. I – ah - jumped to a conclusion. Won’t happen again.”

Mr Vantas rolled his eyes. “Yes it will. Go back to your desk, I’ll take it from here.”

Si retreated and Cronus felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, it’s okay, come have a chat.”

Cronus let himself be led into the now comforting office and scrubbed at his face.

So much for not crying in front of the counsellor again.

As he sat down in his usual chair he noticed there was a blanket and pillow on the sofa against the far wall. When he raised an eyebrow Mr Vantas gathered them up quickly.

“I, ah, have trouble sleeping when my wife’s away.” He explained, a little sheepishly, “I tend to nap on my lunch break and get Si to tell anyone who comes by that I’m taking an important call - unless, of course, it’s a student who needs help. Then he’s supposed to wake me up.”

The counsellor flashed a concerned look at Cronus, “I’m sorry for that outburst of his. But for now it looks like you have something important you need to tell me.”

*

Friday

Vantas saved his skin. The counsellor had got Porrim to admit to provoking Cronus in front of their head of year and both had got away with a slap on the wrists.

However the thought that the counsellor had his back wasn’t much comfort to Cronus on Friday night as he headed out to find any remaining members of Makara’s gang encroaching in the East End.

Last night had been… well not fun, but not terrible – most of the clowns they’d found had just laughed and left. Tonight however…

“Mikey my love, where’s your silencer?” Viv asked icily as the small gang stalked along the alleys of E2.

“I uh… left it at home.” Mikey said with a shrug, “S’all right though – we won’t need it.”

Which was of course the moment they rounded on three clowns, laughing and smoking under the old railway arches.

“What’s so funny?” Sara said brightly, stepping forwards and flicking her knife out in front of her. “l’m sure Dualscar’ll appreciate the joke!”

The biggest of the lot, a broad guy with dreads coiled on top of his head, sobered up the quickest and chose to bolt - but Rehin reached out with one skinny arm and clocked him so hard around the jaw that he staggered back and folded up, stunned.

The other two clowns stopped laughing, but didn’t look too perturbed.

“That wasn’t nice,” remarked one – a curvy girl with dark eyes and painted purple lips, “Especially as our boss is helping the Orphaner out of some hot water.”

She stubbed out her cigarette and shifted her weight, but didn’t move to draw any sort of weapon.

“The rules of the agreement were clear,” Viv said, flicking her crowbar out of her pack almost lazily, “You’re not allowed in the East End. Especially not to sell, which is what I assume you’re doing.”

“Can’t proof nuffink,” grinned the third clown, a skinny blond guy with a scraggly attempt at a beard clinging to his chin.

“Don’t need to.” Viv retorted, swinging the crowbar expertly in one hand, “The time for warning’s over.”

“What’re you gunna do?” Dreadlocks asked from the floor, “I really wouldn’t do anything to upset our boss-”

Before he finished talking Viv lashed out, the crowbar striking his head with a loud crack. He crumpled immediately, a thin trickle of blood pooling under his head.

Cronus went cold, and almost didn’t move in time as the blond guy lunged forward, slashing with his knife -

As he threw himself to the side, Rehin grabbed the arm holding the knife and Viv bought her crowbar down again, breaking it.

Mikey covered Purple-lips with his pistol and she froze – but started screaming obscenities, spitting in fury as Rehin and Viv restrained Blondy.

“Sara?” Viv gasped as she and Rehin struggled to stop Blondy’s thrashing. In response Sara smiled beatifically, and, to Cronus’ horror, dragged her knife across his neck, just below his stupid little beard.

Cronus could do nothing but watch in horror as the man gasped and choked and bled out, his blood gushing down to soak his clothes.

Viv dropped the body contemptuously as soon as he hung limp and turned to Purple-lips who had fallen silent, staring wide-eyed at the crumpled remains of her two gang-mates.

“Not so gobby now, are ya?” Mikey laughed, taking his eyes off of her for a second to turn to his team –

Just long enough for her to leap up and plunge her knife deep into his shoulder.

Mikey managed to crack her round the face with the pistol, then staggered back, dropping the gun and cursing.

“Ahhh – fuck – fuck-”

“Shut up.” Viv hissed coldly, “You should’ve been more careful.”

The girl looked up at them from the ground, defiance written all over her bruised face.

“Was it worth it?” Viv asked softly. The girl looked at her raised crowbar and paled. “Oh don’t worry my dear, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Viv made a motion and Sara picked up the gun - and handed it to Cronus.

Oh no oh no oh god –

“Cronus,” Viv began slowly, and Cronus knew immediately that it was a test – to see if he’d flinch; see if he’d thrust the gun at someone else -

Somehow he managed to grip it firmly and turn to her with an almost dead-pan expression, even as his insides turned to ice.

“I was going to let her go as a warning to other clowns,” Viv continued, “however now I hardly think she deserves that, do you?”

Cronus could feel the eyes of the gang on him.

“No,” he croaked.

Rehin nodded and Sara laughed. Mikey caught his eye, something in his face suggested he wanted to say something - but the pain from his shoulder doubled him over again.

“Good answer.” Viv said, smiling at him with something approaching pride in her voice, “Very good – I’ll be sure to let your father know.”

Cronus felt something twist in his chest, and turned to the girl before Viv could see the panicked tears building in his eyes.

But this was worse. The girl’s bruising now matched her purple lips perfectly - lips that were twisted up into a contemptuous smile.

“Oh please,” she spat, rolling her eyes even as frightened tears rolled down her cheeks, “you’re going to kill me? We know about you Cronus,” her voice cracked but not into tears – instead a terrible manic laugh pushed its way between those painted lips, “You’re nothing like your father, you couldn’t-”

The gunshot rang out loud and clear, reverberating around the arches like the sound the mouth of hell might make as it opened.

The girl’s eyes rolled back in her head and she clutched weakly at the hole in her chest before falling backwards.

Cronus stood frozen, the gun clenched painfully tight between his fingers, his eyes wide with shock.

“Good job kiddo,” Sara murmured, prising the gun from his vice-like grip, “First one’s usually the hardest but – well I guess you’ve got a natural talent.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It burned like a brand.

Cronus couldn’t take his eyes away from the steaming body before him. The blood welling up around the hole in the girl’s chest was almost beautiful… like a flower…

“C’mon – we’ve gotta get out of here,” Rehin’s insistent voice seemed to be coming from a million miles away, “Police will be swarming all over the place in five minutes, c’mon.”

Cronus let himself be tugged backwards, but when they got out of the arches he ran, ignoring the shouts of the gang behind him.

He ran until his lungs were burning and then vomited his guts up in the gutter outside Bethnal Green station.

“You alright mate?” The homeless man was looking at him owlishly from beneath his pile of blankets.

Cronus ignored him and walked on leaden legs to the one person he knew would be awake.

*

The neon lights of the mechanics shop stung his eyes as he staggered in, but Cronus couldn’t seem to find the energy to lift his hand to shield his face.

He paused for a moment in between a jacked up car and a wall of tyres and wondered what to do next. The one instinct that had driven him here was the desperate thought: Horuss can fix this.

But what can he do? What can anyone do??  I didn’t even hesitate – that poor fucking girl -

“Cronus!?” Horuss’ voice sounded unnaturally high and tight. Cronus blinked and found the hulking Greek before him, worry written all over his face.

Cronus opened his mouth a few times like a fish –

                There’s no water ‘round here stupid –

But found no words. Instead he reached up dumbly and grabbed at the front of Horuss’ oil-slicked overalls.

“What happened?” Horuss hissed, touching the side of Cronus’s face with exaggerated care, “Cronus you’re – you’re covered in blood – are you hurt?”

Cronus looked down at himself slowly, then back up at Horuss. He shook his head slowly – the movement feeling for all the world like he was drowning in treacle.

When had the blood got on him? Was it the blond man drowning in his own blood or the girl with the deadly flower blooming in her chest?

“Are you on something –? Cronus, can you talk?”

Cronus opened his mouth once more, but all that came out was a low strangled cry– an animal sound of pain.

“Okay, come with me.” Horuss said firmly, grabbing him by his shoulders, and yelling “Matt, Jinan – breaks up!”

Cronus blinked-

 and found himself sat on the edge of a washroom sink. He looked around him slowly. The washroom was bare, with whitewashed walls and cheap metal fixtures, but very clean for a mechanics bathroom.

Horuss was wiping blood from his face and neck with a handful of wadded up paper towels and –

And crying silently, tears shaking his broad shoulders.

Cronus shook himself slightly and managed to speak.

“S’alright. M’alright.”

The lies didn’t seem to placate Horuss, who dashed the tears from his face and muttered, “You’re not hurt. So that’s not your blood. Do I even want to know what happened?”

“…No.” Cronus whispered, feeling the tremors starting in his hands. “Why are you –? Are we not -? If -? Do – do you want me to go to the police? Turn myself in?”

The look Horuss fixed him with was equal parts distraught and furious.

“No you –you imbecile. I want you to not have to work for your dad! I want you to be safe! I want you to never come here covered in someone else’s blood looking like you just lost a part of your soul.”

Cronus flinched away from him and Horuss grabbed him by the shoulders.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Cronus couldn’t meet his eyes, so Horuss babbled on, “I don’t really think – I mean. God I’m so fucking worried about you do you understand?”

It dawned on Horuss that he was shouting and he let go of Cronus quickly, hunching in on himself.

“I… look that shirt’s ruined. Stay here I’ll get you a new one.”

He was almost at the door when Cronus found his voice again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, hugging himself tightly, digging his fingers into his sides, “I’m sorry.” He found himself sobbing weakly and suddenly Horuss was back, wrapping strong arms around him and mumbling into his hair.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Cronus thought about the flower blooming in the dead girl’s chest and the weight of the gun in his hands.

No it’s not.

Chapter Text

Cronus woke up in a strange bed, wearing strange clothes, but somehow couldn’t seem to work up enough emotion to be perturbed by the situation.

Catching sight of his phone and cigarettes on the nightstand he reached out one clumsy hand and, after a bit of fumbling managed to discern that it was 11am.

I’m late for college. He thought numbly. Then, no wait its Saturday. When nothing else about the situation was able to elicit curiosity in him he shrugged and tugged a cigarette from the half-empty packet.

Just as he was flicking his lighter a huge arm reached up and slapped it out of his hand.

“Not ‘n my bed you don’t.”

Horuss’ sleepy rumble was enough of a jolt to his system to make Cronus lift his head and look around him.

Horuss’ room wasn’t only small but narrow; his bed taking up most of the room and a desk piled high with books leaving just a thin sliver of carpet running from the door to the wardrobe that took up the back wall.

Despite how cramped everything was, the books on the desk were arranged neatly and the carpet looked freshly hoovered. In fact, whereas Cronus’ first sweep of the room made him think of hardship, his second glance saw quiet, understated wealth.

The wardrobe was made of beautifully crafted wood, not just cheap Argos plywood; the books were all first-hand textbooks; the computer the latest Apple model; and the bedsheets-

“Is this silk?”

Horuss groaned. “Is that literally the first thing you wanna say after last night?” His words were uncharacteristically slurred. “Also shhh shhh. Shuttup. Sleeping.”

“I -” Last night. The girl -

Cronus felt nausea wash over him and found himself covered in a cold sweat.

“Bathroom’s down the hall.” Horuss mumbled, rolling over and stealing half the duvet.

After what felt like an eternity of miserable heaving, Cronus reached up with a feeble hand to flush, and was just leaning his head on the mercifully cool toilet seat when Horuss appeared behind him.

“You win. I’m up.” He said with a sigh, the bags under his eyes looking more pronounced than usual. “There’s nothing like the sound of something throwing their guts up to kick start your day… Look I’ve washed your clothes, and there’s probably a spare toothbrush in the cupboard if you look.”

Cronus couldn’t bear to lift his head just yet, so when he spoke he whispered down at the porcelain seat.

“I don’t remember - ”

“After you came in… you wouldn’t let go of me.” Horuss replied softly. “I told dad you’d been mugged. I… don’t actually think I want to know what happened.”

Cronus nodded and struggled to find words for his other questions. Horuss just sighed again and knelt down beside him, rubbing his back.

“It’s Saturday, my day off, so I don’t need to kick you out. Now I’m going to have a shower and then I either need to go back to sleep or drink lots of coffee. I don’t mind which – just let me know what you want to do.”

The Zahaks apartment was squeezed right above the mechanics shop, but there was still room for a tiny living space – which is where, half an hour later, Cronus found himself, curled on the sofa with Horuss, half-watching daytime television.

After an hour or so, Cronus managed to work up the nerve to say “sorry” in a tiny voice that didn’t feel like his own.

Horuss nodded in response and clasped Cronus’ shoulder in his familiar way - which managed to cheer him up despite the wall of memories trying to push through the fog of denial.

*

Cronus stayed over at Horuss’ for the whole weekend, moving to the couch after Horuss’ dad came home. Mr Zahak was a huge hulking man who even surpassed Horuss in height and musculature – and yet was so solemn and polite that Cronus found it hard to feel anything approaching the fear he felt when his own father loomed over him…

It was the thought of facing Dualscar, and whatever awful things he might have to say about Friday that kept him away another day. It wasn’t until Monday morning that he dared go home.

When Cronus finally managed to drag himself round the corner to his house early Monday morning, he found his father was waiting for him, darting out of the living room to grab him and steer him into sitting opposite him on one of the leather armchairs.

“So. Cronus.” Dualscar began, fiddling with the drawstring of his trackie bottoms.

Why isn’t he wearing a suit? He’s always wearing a suit –

“You should have called.” Dualscar bit out, then seemed to flinch from his words, “It’s not that – I mean, I knew where you were but still. I was… worried.”

Cronus’ brow creased in confusion.

Why was he worried? He usually doesn’t give a shit where I am –

“I spoke with Viv on Saturday.”

Cronus struggled to keep his face impassive as images from when he’d last seen Viv rose up like a wave coming to drown him.

                “I was going to let her go… I hardly think she deserves that, do you?”

                                The girl twisting her purple lips into that awful smile – horror and contempt and resignation and fear mingling on her tear-streaked face.

                                                The gunshot –

“Cronus? Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Dualscar snapped, patience wearing thin.

Cronus looked up - but saw concern, not irritation in his dad’s face.

That fucking face that was so perfectly mirrored in his own.

                “You’re nothing like your father -”

                                But I am, I am –

“Wait here.” Dualscar said, standing abruptly and returning with two whiskeys and, surprisingly, a fresh pack of Marlboros.

Cronus downed the drink quickly, despite the fact it couldn’t be later than 8am. He coughed as it burned the back of his throat, then reached tentatively for the cigarettes.

“The lads and lasses do worse in this house, you might as well smoke.” Dualscar sighed, “And if it helps with – look -” his dad leant forward resting his chin in his hands and piercing Cronus with such a perceptive look he was reminded for one jolting moment of Mr Vantas.

“Viv told me you handled the situation with the clown bitch admirably. Said you followed orders, didn’t hesitate, shot straight. Unlike that fucking liability Mikey.” The venom in his voice made Cronus’ blood run cold for Mikey’s sake, but when his father spoke again his voice was curiously gentle, “Cronus I - honestly I… I didn’t think you had it in you, but more fool me, eh? Blood will out and all that malarkey. I’m… proud of you. You did well.”

Cronus froze, his cigarette half way to his lips. His father barrelled on, taking no notice.

“But I also know that… look the first time is never easy. It’s so many years ago for me that at the time Viv told me I didn’t really appreciate – But when you didn’t come home - look. Look, there’s no shame in being a little shook up. It happens. Best thing is to push through it – we’ll get you back on the streets next weekend after Makara and myself take down Spinerette.”

Cronus looked at his father’s earnest face with rising horror.

Dualscar misinterpreted the look.

“I mean it. There’s psychological studies done on it and everythin’. The more practise you have the more you’ll depersonalise them. Soon it’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Cronus couldn’t stand to listen anymore.

“I don’t want it to get easier.” He said numbly, “I don’t want to do that again.” He found himself standing, voice rising of its own accord, “Why did I have to do that? Why couldn’t we just be normal people? I hate this job – I hate your business. I hate this stupid family and – and –“

I hate you.

He couldn’t say it. Not while his dad stared up at him with that dark look on his face. So instead Cronus left the house at a dead run and headed for college, in the clothes oruss

Horuss had scrubbed free of blood, with just his phone and cigarettes.

At Bethnal Green station the homeless man who held the street under the tube sign as his patch winked at Cronus conspiratorially and Cronus gave him the cigarettes in the hope that he wouldn’t tell anyone the state that he’d seen Dualscar’s boy in.

It was probably too late for that - and cash would’ve been better - but the man still clasped his hand and muttered a cheery “fank you mate”. Which Cronus took as a good sign.

After descending into the tube station he realised he didn’t have his oyster card with him – and jumped the barrier, daring anyone to say anything.

One elderly woman yelled something about fucking liberty taking after his back, but one glance over his shoulder shut her up.

They look at me and see my dad. And they’re not wrong, are they? I didn’t even hesitate –

He choked the thought back down and spent the trip to college counting as far as he could up to a million – if it worked for anger, maybe it could work for this too, he reasoned.

*

Cronus spent the whole day fully expecting to have one of the lads and lasses charge into his classroom and kick the shit out of him.

Why did I say those things? Dad’s gunna kill me.

                Would that even be a bad thing at this point?

                                I didn’t even hesitate –

He spent the lunch break hiding in a toilet cubicle and skipped French altogether. If Porrim Maryam had started anything with him today he might have just burst into tears –

                Or murdered her.

In history he forced himself to ignore Mituna’s jittering next to him, and even explained a paragraph he couldn’t seem to grasp.

                “Entente just means agreement. So you and Latula are in an entente because you agree tthat you love each other, right?  Triple means three, because there are three countries involved. One: England. Two: Russia. Three: France. Three countries agreeing. Get it?”

Mituna stilled while he spoke, neither meeting the others’ eye. When he sat back Mituna’s teaching assistant gave him a hard look and Cronus resisted the urge to just flip her off.

“Why’re you being nice?” The red-haired girl on his other side wanted to know. “Trying to balance out your bad karma?”

Cronus laughed – a short, humourless bark of a laugh.

Bit late for that.

When the class emptied out, Cronus dawdled, fiddling with his phone as he didn’t have anything to pack up.

What do I do now..? Go home? What if dad’s still angry – what if he sends the lads and lasses after me?

Hold his legs – hold his legs tighter-

No they would’t – Viv wouldn’t-

                Of course she would -

                 I could go to Horuss – but he’ll still be at uni – and he’s got to be sick of me by now…

“Ampora.”

Cronus jumped, and almost knocked over his table in an attempt to stand up.

Kurloz Makara was watching him with dark eyes.

Cronus fumbled, looking for words – did he think I was messing with Mituna earlier -?

“I was helping. With Mituna earlier, I mean.” He stammered, “I wasn’t having a go-”

“I know.” Kurloz bit out, suddenly unable to meet Cronus’ eyes.

What does he want? Why is he talking to me..?

“I should… uh… go.” He said, sidling towards the door of the now empty classroom.

“Wait.” Cronus did as he was told. “I… I’ve been trying to find you all day.” Kurloz continued in the same slow voice. “I wanted to say…”

Kurloz glanced up and caught Cronus’ eye for a second, then looked away. He looked troubled. In fact, he looked the closest to upset that Kurloz had ever been. Which, for a guy who lived behind a deadpan mask was frightening.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Cronus frowned, “For what? For the other night-?”

“No.” Kurloz said sharply, “You deserved that. You know you did…” he trailed off again, then approached Cronus carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered again, “You don’t deserve… I – I can’t tell you. But…. Forget it.” He finished, darting from the room without looking at Cronus, who stood, petrified for a long moment, until his ringtone snapped him out of it.

What if it’s dad – what if he’s angry -

“H- hello?” he answered before he could talk himself out of it.

“Bonjour cheri,” a familiar voice purred, “I think you and I should have a little talk. I’m outside your college. The red mini. You’ll see. Don’t keep me waiting.”

*

Cronus took as much time as he dared to walk through the familiar labyrinth of corridors and out into the car park.

What does she want with me? Has she figured out dad’s trying to double cross her?

                What if she kidnaps me – or kills me – to get him to stop –

Don’t get ahead of yourself. Dad’s careful. She won’t know – don’t give it away

When he reached the car park, the Marquise was alone… suspiciously so. She usually travelled out of her area with a horde of at least ten, but today she sat alone in the front seat of a mini convertible – the top down so she could kick red-high-heeled feet out over the side.

As Cronus approached she waved in exaggerated excitement and called “yoo-hoo, cheri!” tucking her long legs back into the car before opening the passenger side door and crooking a finger invitingly.

Cronus saw a few students look over and gape – Spinerette cut a striking figure, with her dirty-blond mane tumbling from under her signature floppy wide-brimmed hat and huge bug-like sunglasses in the February chill.

She had a tall, sinewy frame and artificially plumped lips (with equally artificial pert high-sitting breasts Cronus had seen from the innumerable times she had stalked round his house in as few clothes as she could get away with – as if marking her territory). Spinerette was beautiful, really, except for the gaunt hunger that underlay her every expression.

“Get in, cheri,” she snapped, when he dithered at the car door, the puckers around her lips and crease between her eyes for a moment seeming much more pronounced. Cronus wished she’d stop with the pet name, particularly as it was what she often called his father when they were play acting at something other than enemies.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Cronus?” She asked as she pulled away – and Cronus managed a semi-charming “hello Marquise, how are you?” Semi-charming because just as the words were leaving his mouth he caught sight of Kurloz Makara in the car’s rear-view mirror and his faltering apology set alarm bells ringing again in Cronus’ ears.

Maybe Spinny really is gunna hurt me and Kurloz was trying to warn-

                Wait, no, why the fuck would Kurloz know anything about this?

He forced himself to relax.

“Would you care for a cigarette Cronus?” Spinerette purred as she took the car onto the main road.

Normally Cronus wouldn’t have accepted anything from her – but he hadn’t had a cigarette since this morning and the need for nicotine was beginning to itch under his skin.

“Yes please Marquise,” he said evenly, keeping his voice as smooth and calm as possible, “that would be lovely.”

She laughed then, a high, wild, laugh.

“There’re in the glove compartment. The lighter also. And get one for me.”

Cronus’ hands shook as he fumbled with the packet, but stilled as soon as the promise of nicotine was between his fingers.

“I can’t take my hands of the wheel, cheri,” Spinny lied, “aide-moi?”

Cronus reached out and slipped a cigarette between her plastic lips and then, as she leaned over towards him, giving him full view of those plastic breasts poorly concealed at that angle by her low cut jumper.

He lit the cigarette and she took a draw, taking her eyes off the road for a long moment that made Cronus’ heart stutter – in order to give him a knowing look and wink from behind those huge sunglasses.

“Merci Cronus.”

“De rien.” He replied, wincing as the words came thick and poorly pronounced off his tongue.

Nevertheless Spinerette laughed again, and, miraculously able to take a hand of the steering wheel, took a long draw from her cigarette with obvious relish.

“You are much more polite than your brute of a father.” She drawled.

Encouraged by this, Cronus asked where they were going.

Spinny smiled conspiratorially, “Somewhere you are usually forbidden to go. But not this evening. I’ve told my boys and girls to stand down. You are being granted a rare honour.”

“Thank you,” Cronus whispered in return, for want of anything better to say.

Poplar, then, or closer to Canary Wharf… The Isle of Dogs, Leamouth? Does her territory extend up to Stratford-?

                How will I explain this to dad-?

“Don’t over think it.” Spinny said softly, “And relax, I’m not going to hurt you – I just have some questions to ask and I’d rather do it chez moi.”

*

The journey took just over an hour, given the traffic and the route Spinerette had to take to dodge hostile territory.

She passed the time smoking and asking about Cronus’ studies in a way that felt uncomfortably, well, step-mum-y, considering how often she interspersed her questions with flirty remarks and looks that were lecherous if they were anything.

                I’m so fucking confused – what does she want me for?

Cronus decided to just answer the questions to the best of his ability and try not to reciprocate any of the confusing advances.

By the time they made it to their destination – a prominent pub in Canary Wharf called The Cat and Canary – it was six o clock and the place was heaving with commuters. Men and women in business attire stood clustered outside, filling the cordoned area to bursting, and inside the people waiting at the bar were crowded four or five thick. Every table and chair and every section of unclaimed carpet was taken and everyone was drinking like it was the end of the world –

Until the Marquise walked in.

“Watch yerselves, let Madam through – watch yer backs!” one of the barkeeps called, and the crowds of people parted like the red sea, businessmen and women pushing up into each other’s sweaty personal space to give Spinny enough room to walk comfortably through the crowd.

“Merci everyone!” She called, like a celebrity, “It’s happy hour from now until I leave – two for one on all drinks – isn’t that right Richard?”

The barkeep who seemed to be in charge, looked stricken, but agreed immediately,

“Right you are madam – oi – oi don’t push, there’s enough ‘ere for everyone!”

Smirking at the uproar she had caused, Spinerette led Cronus through to the back of the pub where there were booths with intricately carved wooden dividers and plush leather seats. All were full to bursting except for the one on the end, which was clearly reserved.

As they sat down, a harangued looking staff member popped up and actually bowed – bobbing her heads nervously and trying a tentative smile.

“Vous voulez de quoi ce soir madam?”

Spinerette looked Cronus up and down with an appraising eye.

“Le rouge. Le bon rouge, tu comprends. Une – mais non – deux bouteilles… Et de bière aussi, juste en cas.”

The woman scuttled off, shoving her way non-too gently through the masses of workers and returned with two bottles of a rich looking red wine and a pitcher of beer, which Spinny immediately put to one side with a look of disdain on her face.

Cronus understood. It was there as a courtesy but he wasn’t to touch it.

Spinerette didn’t talk until two generous glasses of the red had been poured, and then she raised her glass for a toast.

“Salut!”

“Salut.” Cronus echoed, taking a tentative sip of the wine.

Spinerette on the other hand drained half her glass, then looked at him smirking.

“Keep up, cheri, we have much to talk about and you don’t want to be parched.”

Cronus gave her a smile he hoped was winning and not just queasy and took a much larger gulp.

He hadn’t eaten since dinner with the Zahaks last night and the liquid hit his stomach with an uncomfortable slosh.

He really hated wine.

An hour later and Spinerette was still on small talk – but they were most of the way through the second bottle of wine and Cronus’ head was spinning –

                Spinny – spinning – spinning with Spinny -

He turned his giggle into a cough, but she looked at him sharply. Taking in his condition she smiled widely and stood up, walking round the other side of the booth to slip in next to him.

“Well, enough of idle chatter, I have some questions for you, Cronus.”

Cronus nodded. As he’d thought.

“Well,” she began slowly, lighting up a cigarette and offering him one.

He looked at her dumbly,

“We’re indoors.”

She laughed and pinched his cheek.

“So sweet, mon fils, but the only law we obey in this pub is my law.”

Cronus flushed, and took a cigarette, despite thinking that he really didn’t need anything else that would make him feel light-headed right now.

“Anyway,” she said, blowing a stream of smoke about her, “I have noticed lately that I have hardly heard from your father – no calls to shout at me for something my lot has done; no texts reminding me that I’m a spiteful bitch for squeezing his profit margins like I do; no invitations into Bethnal Green for the night…”

She smiled coquettishly, “Makes a girl feel she isn’t wanted. Is everything okay with your father’s business?”

“I – yes. I think so. He doesn’t tell me much…” Cronus mumbled, unsure of the best course to take.

Just don’t mention the docks. Don’t mention Maraka.

“Are you sure he doesn’t tell you much, cheri?” She asked, sliding one bony hand up his thigh and squeezing gently, “Because I have it as fact that you’ve been out and about with the lads and lasses almost every night recently.”

“I… how could you-?” The hand on his thigh was distracting him –

She’s dads girlfr- or, or, I don’t know – but she’s old enough to be my mum – why is she -

And how could she possibly know that? Any spies she sent in would be destroyed –

Spinnerette laughed and pinched his thigh again. Cronus wondered how far he could inch away from her without giving offence.

“As if I don’t have informants in E2.” She snorted, “As if your father doesn’t have informants down Poplar way for that matter.”

Cronus knew his confusion was written all over his face, and she laughed again – a low chuckle that was made more threatening by the fingers she trailed down his cheek.

How do I make her get her hands off me - ?

“Regardez.” She crooned, slapping her cigarette packet on the table before him. “Do you recognize these Cronus?”

Cronus squinted to stop his vision blurring and looked at the little packet.

What? They’re Marlboros. 20 Pack. Marlboro reds. Half the packet’s gone –

                Oh for fucks sake –

“The tramp.” He said with a groan, “The tramp outside the station. These are my fucking cigarettes from this morn-”

Her slap took his breath away and he clutched his cheek, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Watch your mouth.” Was all she said, snapping her fingers for another bottle of wine.

When it arrived she poured them both another huge glass and Cronus stared at his bleakly.

I’m going to suffer so much tomorrow. Either from a hangover or from whatever dad does to me when I spill all his secrets on top of yelling at him earlier -

“Now Cronus,” Spinereete said briskly, motioning for him to take a drink, “I hope I can trust you to not go running to daddy with news of my informant? If anything happens to him – well, I know where you go to college, I know the route you take home – alors I even know a few barkeepers who might have a grudge against you I could encourage them into acting upon.”

She frowned slightly, mouthing her last sentence back to herself.

“That made sense didn’t it? English suddenly gets… slippery…. When wine is involved.”

Cronus gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Anyway.” She continued, draining her glass again and motioning fort Cronus to do the same, “Now I have proven you’re full of shit, tell me why your father has been ignoring me lately. I don’t appreciate being ignored, Cronus.”

Cronus searched blankly for a lie that wouldn’t ruin his father’s scheme while trying to keep the last gulp of wine in his stomach.

“He… uh… he has seemed busier than usual lately. A lot of people are defaulting on loans and – and,” what do I say, she’s waiting – oh god seriously fuck wine - “and we had some clowns in e2 the last week or so that needed dealing with. So. Yeah. Uh, he’s not ignoring you. I’m sure you’ll hear from him very soon actually.”

Spinerette frowned.

“Clouds? You have had clouds? Oh – clowns…. Wait,” her frown deepened, “Clowns – that’s Makara’s people, non? Why would Makara be North of the river..?”

Oh god I shouldn’t have mentioned clowns – what if she speaks to Makara-? Surely she wouldn’t dare –

“Oh well. As long as that’s it I suppose I can forgive your father.” She said, with an exaggerated sigh, “But this neglect has forced me to raise this month’s dock collection cost by ten per cent. You’ll tell him that won’t you cheri?”

She leaned in to whisper the end of her sentence in his ear and Cronus was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her proximity – her hand was back on his thigh, her lips were at his neck and her perfect plastic breasts were pushing him back into the booth.

“Yes.” He croaked, struggling to find a way out of there while his brain felt so slow and stupid, “Yes – actually I’ll go right now and let him know.”

She leaned back, laughing right in his stricken face.

“You’ll go right now? Okay then Cronus, go run to daddy. Maybe we’ll have another little tête-à-tête when you’re a bit older – or bolder maybe I mean? Curse this English.”

She stood up, and he moved to slip by – but she didn’t let him go until she had planted a kiss on both his cheeks.

“Au revoir cheri, and you have until midnight to get out of mon territoire safely, so don’t dawdle!”

*

The alcohol had loosened Cronus’ ability to block out the thoughts he desperately needed to keep at bay, and as he walked unsteadily to the DLR he almost gagged as the memory of the sneering, crying girl forced its way up his throat.

When he got to the station he realised he didn’t have his oyster card on him – and whereas around Bethnal Green he could get away with fare dodging, he wouldn’t dare do it on Spinerette’s patch.

Resigning himself to a long walk he set off, hoping that the journey would at least help him to sober up a bit. In fact he spent the walk home alternately biting his fingernails down to the quick for fear of what his father would day to him when he got in, and pressing his finger hard into his eyes to dissipate the images of broken, bleeding bodies - but when he made it to Bethnal Green, he did feel somewhat less inebriated.

When he made it home, his front door was once more hanging off its hinges. Cronus wasn’t unduly worried, but a small voice at the back of his head did point out that, after the last time, dad had definitely had the door reinforced.

                And isn’t there something else I should be remembering - ?

Not wanting to dither around making himself afraid, Cronus plunged in, steeling himself for whatever his dad was going to dish out.

Why did I yell at him?? What was I thinking - ? Well it’s done now, time to face the music –

But there was only silence in the house.

A great, yawning silence that seemed to stretch on forever –

Until his father’s voice came from his study, “Fine, you utter bastard. Fine.”

Was he on the phone?

I should at least poke my head in – or he’ll think I’m hiding from him.

Cronus pushed open the door to the study carefully and was confused at first to see his father behind his desk, apparently talking furiously to the opposite wall.

“Dad-?”

“Cronus – what the fuck are you doing here?” Dualscar snapped, his suit looking uncharacteristically dishevelled and his usually pristine hair sticking up in sweat-slicked spikes. “Go to your room and I’ll deal with you later.” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he looked much more worried than angry.

Before Cronus could figure out why, a low cough came from behind him, and he spun –

To come face to face with Makara himself. The King of South London. The Grand High leader of the Croydon Clowns, whose territory stretched from zone five up to the south bank of the Thames.

“Hello young Cronus, wha’gwarn?” he drawled in his deep London-Jamaican patois.

Cronus took a step back instinctively and found his voice had fled him.

There shouldn’t have been anything inherently scary in Makara’s appearance, but it was somewhat… confusing. He was sharply dressed in jeans, dress shoes and a shirt – and yet his hair was wild, his teeth sharply serrated and his face covered in a network of tattoos. The overall impact was… unsettling – but it was when Cronus caught his eyes and saw the sheer berserker rage boiling there that he found himself transfixed.

“Cronus. To your room. Now.” Dualscar snapped.

“Nah I t’hink he can stay,” Makara said, slapping a heavy hand down on Cronus shoulder and spinning him to face his dad, “’Dis is an important lesson.”

“What lesson?” Dualscar snarled, “That you’re a double-crossing bastard? How dare you take her side when I’ve owned East-India since before she even set up shop?”

“How dare I, you say?” Makara growled, then burst out into a deep throaty chuckle that made the hairs on the back of Cronus’ neck rise. The other man hadn’t let go of his shoulder. “How dare I? Dat’s very fucking funny Ampora. She’s sweeter den you if you catch my drift. Not dat I’ll be taking any nonsense from her – not like you do. Letting her run all over your patch.” He tutted, then laughed again, the sound making Dualscar’s whole body tense in fury.

“If you’ve just come here to laugh-”

“I’m laughing because you’re such a joke, man.” Makara said, then suddenly all mirth was gone. “But not funny enough to be worth dis hassle. You can’t enlist my people and then kill dem when they’re on your patch. That, my good ol’ china, is no laughing matter.”

Everything seemed to happen at once then.

Cronus felt something cold touch his right cheek. There was a click, and his father met his eyes, his mouth opening –

Except whatever he had to say was eclipsed with the deafening crack that exploded next to Cronus’ right ear.

The sound sent him to the ground, cradling his head, but he managed to keep his eyes fixed on his father –

So he saw the bullet enter his forehead and send him slamming back, before he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, a trail of blood marking where he had slid down the wall.

Cronus gaped. The last few seconds crystallising in his head.

Underneath the awful ringing in his ears he heard a deep rumble and looked round to see Makara standing over him, shoulders shaking with terrible mirth.

“Your face. You should see your face.” He said, the words sounding like they were coming from underwater thanks to the damage to Cronus’ ears and the profound shock fixating his body.

Cronus opened his mouth. And shut it. He realised dimly that he should probably be crying, but nothing would come.

“Dat’s what you get for jerking me around.” Makara said, wiping tears from his eyes, “No one messes with Makara… sorry about your ear.” He said solemnly. “I had a good shot.”

He moved to leave and then turned back, surveying the scene; Dualscar’s crumpled body behind the desk, the pool of blood forming around him, and his son, pale and shocked with blood trickling unnoticed from his ear. Still, he was Dualscar’s son…

“You know what, just in case you get the notion in your head to come after me:  sorry about dis too.” Makara raised an arm and bought the gun round to crack hard into Cronus’ temple.

There was a flash of blinding light, and then darkness.

*

When Cronus woke, his phone told him it was nearly 2 in the morning. His head felt heavy and strangely… itchy inside – like it had been filled with insulation. A lyric he half remembered was stuck there also, the words echoing dully behind his eyes.

Before we only spoke in letters cut from magazines

                                …los muertos walking

Squared-off harpy to armchair: say a prayer for me

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly

I also feel that you could learn a lot from a mummy

                                                say a prayer for me

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly

say a prayer for me

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly

Cronus shook his head slowly and winced at the blinding pain above his right eye. Raising clumsy fingers he found they came away sticky –

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly

Irritated, Cronus shook his head again, harder, to clear out the song, and then moaned as the pain flipped his stomach –

Dad’ll kill me if I throw up on this carpet –

                I also feel that you could learn a lot from a mummy

Focusing on the song he couldn’t get out of his head, and not the rising dread at the state of the room as his vision cleared, Cronus struggled to remember the chorus –

It rose suddenly out of the fog of memory:

Take the brain out; leave the heart in –

A jolt.

Dad –

Cronus froze. His vision was almost clear now. Which meant if he turned his head ever so slightly…

Cronus stared for a long while at his father’s lifeless body - and the phone next to him that was lit up by a thousand frantic messages - then managed to get himself to his feet.

Gotta get out of here – the lads and lasses could be here any second - Horuss – Horuss will help –

But when he managed to walk round to the mechanics shop, lurching and staggering like a drunk, he was confronted with closed shutters and a polite message repeated in English, Greek and Arabic:

                Closed tonight for important family business. Sorry for any inconvenience. – Zahaks.

Cronus stood and stared at the message for a long time, and then sat down on the kerb, shivering in the night air. 

After half an hour, sirens ripped through the night, and Cronus assumed someone had discovered his father’s body.

I gotta get out of here. He thought miserably – and then suddenly remembered Mr Vantas’ message in his notebook.

Opening his phone with shaking hands he found that he’d had the presence of mind to transfer the number to his contacts and pressed the call button like it was a lifeline.

At first, when he didn’t hear a dial tone, Cronus thought his phone might be broken, but then he realised dully he couldn’t hear out of his right ear.

He switched his phone to his left ear and, after a long time ringing, Mr Vantas finally picked up, his voice crackling with sleep,

“Hello? Who is this?”

Cronus managed to speak, his voice coming out whispered and childlike.

“Mr Vantas – I-“

“Cronus? Is that you? Are you okay?”

“…No.”

A pause and then,

“What’s wrong?”

“My dad- ” he found he couldn’t finish the sentence. So instead went with, “Help.”

Another pause and then,

“I’m coming to get you, text me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Chapter Text

When Mr Vantas pulled up, Cronus ducked into the car and slammed the door shut behind him, grateful that the counsellor didn’t bombard him with questions; instead letting him rest his head against the cool window and stare vacantly into the night.

The car journey back was long and quiet, the little car gliding smoothly through the London streets. It wasn’t until they were well out of the east end that Mr Vantas finally spoke.

“So… Cronus. How are you doing?”

Cronus turned his head slowly and looked at Mr Vantas properly. The older man looked exhausted, his eyes bruised and his cheeks shadowed with incipient stubble.

“Thank you.” Cronus managed, his tongue feeling thick and unwieldy in his mouth, “For, you know…”

He trailed off and Mr Vantas sighed, “Okay maybe we’ll talk about it in the morning. But we’re going to.”

The words hung over Cronus like a threat for the rest of the journey.

How do I explain – what do I say?

They slowed when they got to a residential area – somewhere in North London maybe - and Mr Vantas pulled expertly into a driveway, the slight bumping of the car as it went up the curb sending lightning bolts through Cronus’ head, regardless.

Cronus shut his car door with exaggerated care, trying not to jolt his head any more than necessary, and looked up to see Mr Vantas had paused, considering something.

“Look, Cronus, I should probably warn you-”

Before he could finish the front door slammed open and Porrim Maryam appeared, backlit by the hallway light.

“What the fuck is he doing here? It’s the middle of the night! I don’t want him in our house!”

Cronus blinked, speechless.

Why was Porrim -? What - ? Why -?

As his thoughts started to spiral Cronus realised his vision was blurring too, and barely managed to throw a hand out to break his fall as his knees collapsed under him.

“Cronus-!” Mr Vantas called, and then another voice spoke up.

“He’s bleeding dad – head wound. Didn’t you notice?”

Cronus kept his head pressed into the tarmac below him as it was cool, and the rest of the world felt foggy and distant above him - but before long hands were pulling him up and into the house.

When he came more to his senses he found himself in a small living room, on a comfortable chintz sofa, with three people leaning over him in various states of concern.

The boy to the left of Mr Vantas had to be his son. Blearily Cronus figured his mother had to be Indian or maybe Pakistani – but his father’s features were plain in his face. But how Porrim related to anyone- anything – was another matter, one that his battered brain couldn’t deal with just yet.

“Cronus?” Mr Vantas asked softly, “I need to – can I look at your head?”

Cronus nodded, then hissed at pain shot through him again.

“Porrim – can you get a damp cloth for me? Cronus, can you follow my finger with your eyes…”

“What caused the head wound?” The boy said sharply, “You look concussed, what happened?”

“Kankri-” Mr Vantas began, but Cronus cut him off.

“Gun. Gunshot right by my ear. Think m’deaf in my right ear now. Also he smashed the gun into my head. Hurts. Passed out for a bit.”

Mr Vantas gaped at him,

“Gun – who had the gun?? Wait, Cronus was this your father-?”

“No.” Cronus whispered, pressing his eyes shut to ward of flashes of memory, “No.”

Porrim re-entered the room with a huff.

“Budge up.” She snapped and Cronus managed to heave himself onto the next sofa seat.

“I think we should take him to A&E.” Mr Vantas mused while Porrim dabbed at the blood clotted and still lazily flowing at Cronus’ temple.

Porrim protested before Cronus could.

“No way. I just heard him say a gun was involved. That’s mob stuff. The police will get involved.”

“Why’d you care?” Cronus groaned, trying to edge away from the cloth Porrim kept dabbing at his tender temple, “And why are you here? Why aren’t you at home?”

“I am at home,” Porrim snapped, “And now you’re in our home – so if the police get involved we’ll be accessories to whatever horrible crimes you and your dad are involved in.”

“Porrim.” Mr Vantas warned sharply, and she stopped, pressing her mouth into a grim line.

“On the phone you mentioned your dad,” Mr Vantas said softly, kneeling down to look Cronus in the eye while his son lurked behind him. “What happened? Was he not there to protect you from – whoever did this then?”

“No- I… it wasn’t -” Cronus took a steadying breath, then began to speak in a curiously empty voice, “I got home late and found dad with another mob boss. He shot him. The other mob boss I mean. He shot my dad. Right in the head. He shot right over my shoulder and dad just slammed back into the wall…”

He noticed numbly that Porrim had stopped dabbing at his wound.

“He’s dead. The other boss knocked me out and when I woke up dad was just lying there in his own blood. Some of his brains were on the wall. Little wound in front, big wound in the back just like -”

Cronus stopped himself and looked in three horrified faces.

“Your father. He’s… dead? You saw that happen.” Mr Vantas said softly.

“Yes,” Cronus replied, wondering how many more times he had to say it until it sank in; until his emotions caught up to the situation.

“I’m… sorry. Cronus I really have to call the police.”

“Okay.” There wasn’t anything else he could say.

*

The police were already aware of the situation, and were in fact frantically hunting for Cronus – or his body – when Mr Vantas called. He was told to keep Cronus from leaving the house, which wasn’t a problem as he was badly concussed and could hardly stand up without falling over. They would be round in the morning to get a statement from Cronus and maybe to take him into protective custody.

Cronus refused to go to hospital, but after a call to 111 Mr Vantas was told he’d probably be fine to sleep as long as he was woken up each hour to check if he was okay.

“I have to work tomorrow.” Mr Vantas said, his exhaustion clear in his voice as he fumbled with blankets and pillows for Cronus to sleep on the sofa with, “Kankri, Porrim – whoever wants to stay up watching Cronus gets the day off tomorrow and a tenner.”

Kankri sniffed, “I would but I have politics first thing and -”

“Make it twenty and I’m in.” Porrim interrupted, grinning when Vantas stuck out his hand to strike the deal.

“Night Kanny, night dad.” She called as they trudged upstairs and then turned on the television, not sparing Cronus another glance.

Cronus tried to stay as still and as quiet as possible, but when, a half hour later, he shifted slightly to stop his leg going numb, Porrim tutted loudly.

“Sorry.” He muttered darkly, and then, because he was more annoyed than afraid of her wrath, added, “Why’d you call Mr Vantas dad? He’s obviously not your dad.”

Porrim paused the television and spared him a withering glare.

“He adopted me. He’s my dad as much as Kankri’s my brother-”

“So not much then?”

“Wow. You can watch a man get his brains blown out and still make quips? I’m impressed.”

Porrim’s suddenly mortified face suggested she wanted to take the words back the second she said them, but that wasn’t much comfort to Cronus, who felt the words hit him like a blow to the chest.

“My dad just died. Could you not be such a spiteful bitch just now?” He bit out, rolling over to face the cushions and curling in on himself, helpless to stop the shakes that immediately gripped him.

What was it dad said?

                Blood will out…

                Soon it’ll be as easy as breathing

But Cronus couldn’t breathe. He felt crushed, the walls closing in around him as Porrim’s presence was forgotten and his world narrowed to a thin point of panic.

What if it was too late? What if he was already just a killer like his father-?

                You are a killer. You killed someone, that’s the fucking definition –

                                Dualscar’s limp body, looking horribly small and frail in the expanding pool of blood-

                                                The girl, her face bemused as the deadly flower bloomed in her chest –

“Cronus?” He flinched when Porrim’s hand gingerly touched his back.

He didn’t trust himself to speak. His head was pounding and the memory of two bottles of rich red wine was causing his stomach to flip queasily.

She sighed and flicked his shoulder, “Sorry. No matter who he was he was also your dad and I… I should’ve understood that. Now turn round. I have to check on you once an hour and it’ll be easier if you’re facing this way… We don’t have to talk. It’ll probably be better that way, actually.”

Cronus complied and even managed to get some sleep, only flinging himself awake from nightmares once. Porrim was graceful enough to not sneer at his panicked, sweaty face and didn’t mention it again when it was her next time to check on him.

The uneasy truce was… uneasy. But Cronus felt safe in Mr Vantas’ house, despite the sure knowledge that the lads and lasses were trawling London for his hiding place as he slept.

*

After a shower the next morning Cronus was about as ready to face the police as possible. His head was swollen but clearer – the thing that was most upsetting about Makara’s parting gift was the two jagged scars from where the gun had split the skin above his right eye. Two scars. Dual scars.

He resisted the urge to punch out the Vantas’ bathroom mirror and pulled on some of the counsellor’s spare clothes – Kankri being too slight for his clothes to be of any use.

Mr Vantas was already talking to PCs Huang and Kofo – apparently they had been assigned to Cronus’ case to make him feel more at ease. It wasn’t working.

Porrim had gone to bed, muttering death-threats to anyone who might have the audacity to wake her, so it was Kankri he found sipping tea in the kitchen.

When he walked in the other boy raised an eyebrow.

“They’re in the living room.”

“I know…. That’s kind of why I’m here.” Cronus said gruffly. “Can I get some coffee? I’m dying…”

Kankri raised an eyebrow, “Caffeine’s addictive.”

“Yep.” Cronus agreed, finding instant coffee in the cupboard and refilling the kettle. “Wanna schedule me in for a smoking talk later, or..?”

“You smoke? Do you know how-”

“Yep.” Cronus flashed a grin he wasn’t really feeling at the affronted boy and poured himself a coffee.

Bacon would be great too, fucking Spinny and her fucking wine – and fucking Makara too-

As he sipped Kankri glared at him over the rim of his cup.

“…What?”

Just leave me alone chief I’m not in the mood

                Why do I feel okay – ? Why aren’t I crying or-?

“…Nothing.” Kankri finished his tea and daintily finished the last bite of toast, “I have to go to college. …Good luck with the police.”

Cronus nodded glumly. “Thanks. Sorry for disrupting your sleep last night.”

Kankri nodded uncertainly, as though he didn’t quite know what to make of Cronus, and left.

As an afterthought Cronus realised that the boy had been wearing a uniform – but he had said college-

Must be a fancy private college or sixth form deal…

Wait why send one kid to a fancy school and not the adopted kid – seems pretty harsh -

Before he could muse further Mr Vantas appeared in the doorway, his shirt crisp and clean while his hair was wild and stuck up in funny angles from sleep.

“Kettle just boiled?”

Cronus nodded.

Mr Vantas let out an audible sigh of relief and poured himself an instant coffee that he drained in three long gulps.

Cronus stared at him in shock – that was almost boiling water.

Vantas saw his look and laughed sheepishly, “Asbestos throat, what can I say? …And I need caffeine more than I need taste buds…”

He clasped his hands together and composed his face into something a little more serious – but the worry creasing his brow belied the severity.

“Okay, well, the police just want to talk to you, get a statement… you’re not in trouble Cronus.” He added, fixing Cronus with that piercing glare, “I’ve been speaking with them and they can’t make you leave the house against your will. If they try anything just shout and they’ll have to deal with a sleep-deprived Porrim.” He laughed again, a little nervously, and then sighed.

“Look I, I wish I could help more but I have to go to work. Call me if there’s any trouble and- and, Cronus I really am sorry about your father. About what you had to see… We can talk later if you want..?”

The man looked so earnest and hopeful that Cronus felt his throat close with bizarrely grateful tears.

He managed to cough gruffly and reply, “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“Right. Well. I’ll be back later. Help yourself to any food or drink, my television and books are at your disposal and, well, maybe stay indoors until we know that things are safe for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Vantas squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and left, making his farewells to the police in the front room.

Cronus knew he should go in and talk to them, but he couldn’t bear to make himself move from the position of safety he had behind the kitchen counter with his steaming cup of crappy instant coffee.

He counted in his head how long it might take them to come get him.

… 89, 90, 91, 92 –

“Cronus?”

It was PC Kofo, his hat held under one arm, clearly hunching his broad shoulders to make himself appear less threatening. "We need to talk to you, come through to the living room, please.”

Part of him wanted to react childishly - demand that the police officers come to him, or refuse to open his mouth - but the pressure of Mr Vantas’ hand was still warm on his shoulder and he sighed.

“Ok. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Mr Vantas made us one,” PC Kofo said, the note of pity in his voice so intolerable that Cronus nodded curtly and forced himself to walk into the living room with a few quick strides.

This house is so small –

“Hello Cronus,” PC Huang’s hair was pulled back into a rock hard bun at the back of head, but her eyes were sympathetic, “I imagine it’s been a hard night, but we need to talk.”

Cronus felt something in his head close off and managed to get through the questioning dispassionately, answering matter of factly and ignoring the concerned looks PC’s Huang and Kofo flashed at each other when he casually described the manner of Dualscar’s death.

After a while, PC Huang raised her hand.

“That’s enough. Listen, Cronus, there are some practical things we need to focus on now. First of all, let’s think about your health. If your hearing doesn’t return later today I need you to go to your GP. I think we’d also like to get you in contact with our grief and trauma counsellors –“

“Mr Vantas is my counsellor,” Cronus interrupted, filled with dread at the idea of having to talk to anyone else about his dad and his life.

PC Kofo nodded solemnly, “Fine. But we’ll leave him with the number for our trauma team just in case. Thinking more long term, we’ll contact your extended family to see who can take you in… but are you happy staying here for now?”

“Yes,” Cronus croaked, his throat drying at the thought of what family they’d be forced to contact. Empress – she’s the only family I have. I can’t live with the fucking Empress –

“Good. Mr Vantas was happy to keep you for a week or so, too.”

Cronus let out a shaky breath.  The thought of being kicked out right now worse than recollections of his dad’s death.

“Last thing Cronus, then we’ll leave you in peace,” PC Huang continued checking her phone with a quick glance, “Ms Pyrope is currently investigating your home and your father’s businesses - she’s pushing for a trial to bring up your father’s associates on charges, and wants to interview you. Can we give her a contact number for you, or would you like to do everything through the police.”

Cronus felt a jolt of panic.

If she investigates dad, she’ll find out about me – she’ll know what I’ve done –

                I won’t meet her alone, I have to do this through the police – but hanging around police stations is going to look so bad – Spinny will kill me if the lads and lasses don’t –

“Cronus?”

“I, uh, through you.” He shrugged hopelessly. And the PCs nodded and packed themselves up to leave.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Pc Kofo said as they left, shaking Cronus’ hand, “And Cronus, given the circles you’ve moved in, feel free to contact the local station if you feel you need to be put in protective custody.”

Cronus hadn’t even considered that.

“….’Kay. Thanks.”

Once they were gone Cronus threw himself down on the sofa and tried to sleep while his mind spun with thoughts – not least of which was

                Where are my fucking cigarettes, they were on the side with my phone last night –

                                Oh that little – I bet it was that fucking Kankri –

Trying to quell his cravings he settled into uneasy sleep –

And woke up a few hours later when Porrim flicked on the telly at a gratingly high volume.

Cronus rolled over and squinted at her. She was sprawled in the armchair in a bathrobe, her hair twisted up in another towel over her head.

“Why?”

“Because it’s my house,” she growled back, no smirk or levity in her face, “If you have a problem you can just fuck off, can’t you?”

“Actually no I can’t.” He snapped back, dragging himself into a sitting position since he was clearly not getting any more sleep anytime soon, reaching for his phone and cigarettes instinctively and cursing inwardly when he only found the former.

“Oh that’s right.” Porrim said, with mock remembrance, “Because gangsters might be after you – in case you’ve decided to take over as the new Orphaner.”

“Dualscar. He name is – was-” Cronus stopped abruptly and scowled. “I don’t wanna be him anyway. And I have no fucking idea why you think I would.”

Porrim gave him a hard look and snorted derisively.

“S’funny. For someone who doesn’t want to be the new Dualscar, you sure are looking the part.”

Cronus stared at her blankly and she rolled her eyes and tapped her temple. Reaching up to his own he winced at he felt the broken skin there.

Oh for fucks –

He’d almost managed to forget about his new scars.

Thanks a lot Porrim.

Apparently not done taunting him Porrim clasped her hands over her chest and whispered, “Daddy would be proud.”

That was enough.

Cronus slammed a hand down on the arm of the sofa.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he yelled, using every ounce of his self-control to stay seated and not launch himself at her. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Porrim’s eyes were icy. She clicked the remote to cut off the television, and rose slowly from her chair like some ancient goddess of fury.

“You want to know my problem?” she hissed, gliding over to the sofa and sitting down excruciatingly close to Cronus, pushing him up against the arm rest and forcing him to feel the tension in her body as their thighs pressed up against each other.

“Yes. Sure. Enlighten me – where does your fucking unbridled hatred some from?” Cronus said, keeping his voice as level as he could manage.

Porrim didn’t say anything at first, just pressed cold fingers to the scarring above his right eye, making him gasp, but not back down.

“Your daddy, the man you keep referring to as Dualscar – is known to almost everyone else whose life he touches – sorry, touched - as the Orphaner. Haven’t you ever wondered why that is?”

Cronus shrugged, “Bosses have different names in different areas- ow-” he flinched back as she poked at his temple harder.

“Don’t be so fucking naïve. He’s the Orphaner – so what does he do, Cronus?”

Cronus had to break Porrim’s penetrating eye contact to blink incipient tears from his eyes, her prodding really hurt. And that fact that she was naked beneath the bathrobe was adding a extra level of confusion to the pain and anger currently vying for his attention.

“He – look I’m not stupid, I know he killed people. He was a bad guy, alright?” he snarled, then flinched as Porrim once more pushed herself into his personal space.

“He was the Orphaner,” she said, stroking his face excruciatingly gently before tugging at his ear to make sure he couldn’t look away. “He made orphans. Now why don’t you guess why I live with Kankri and Mr Vantas. Why I hate you so much. Why you’re fucking face makes me sick.”

He felt her fingers curl into fists against his cheeks, her long nails scraping his skin, but she restrained herself from hitting him.

Cronus found his mouth open, words failing him.

Porrim was staring at him expectantly, face a few inches from his so he couldn’t miss the tears dripping from those icy eyes.

“I – I didn’t know – how could I-?”

Porrim did hit him then. Not hard, but the shock sent him back –

                                The thud of a body hitting a wall

Air being driven out of him

                Sorry about dis too -

Shaking, Cronus had to turn away from her. Every instinct in him made him want to bolt – to leave the room at a dead run, but at the same time he knew that if he left now the flashbacks would only get stronger – he could lose time – he didn’t know this neighbourhood –

Porrim grabbed his face.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said shakily, “I – it’s just – god every time I look at you I just see him-”

“Me too.” Cronus said numbly, then, “I’m sorry.”

Porrim nodded. “…Me too.”

There was a pause in which they moved apart slightly and each wiped their faces while pretending not to notice that the other was doing the same. The air in the room felt as thick as treacle, and Cronus wished the pressure clutching at his chest would release.

“What happened?” He mumbled, when he’d collected himself a little bit.

Porrim clasped and unclasped her hands, “I was ten. Mum was… she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your dad was going after a member of his gang that had defected to another boss – at least that’s what the police told me afterwards. She was doing nights and was coming back from work at four in the morning. She got in the way of the chase and Orph- your dad shot her in the head. And just kept going. There was a security camera that caught everything and it got to trial. I sat in the courtroom with my auntie. And he walked away. And he knew he was going to walk away because he laughed when he was on the stand – he laughed at what he had done.”

Her hand curled into fists and Cronus flinched instinctively.

Porrim saw and frowned, uncurling her fists.

“I know, logically, that you didn’t have anything to do with this, but still –“

Cronus nodded. He felt sick. He felt like something in his chest had been scooped out. He felt hollow and full to bursting at the same time.

“M’sorry,” he whispered again, then, “M’going out.”

Porrim nodded, staring studiously at her nails as he left.

Once outside in the semi fresh London air Cronus took a few ragged breaths and tried not to think of how he was supposed to look Porrim in the face again.

Let’s go get cigarettes. He thought muzzily, forgetting his complete lack of money. Wait where am I-? – is this Finchley??

He wandered blankly for a while, too engrossed in his own swirling thoughts to notice the shadow tailing him from street to street –

Until it ran up to him –

“Wotcha Cronus.” Sara said in a sing-song voice that still made him jump half out of his skin.

He turned sharply to face her and she ducked in to give him a quick hug.

“-?” Was all Cronus was able to get out before she was darting back again, flicking her mane of curls back over her shoulder.

“Sorry about your dad. Sad.” She said, the words at odds with the grin on her lips.

“Uh, yeah.” Cronus said, scanning her frantically for any sort of weapon, “What’re you doing here?”

Sara laughed at his obvious discomfort.

“I’m not here to hurt you! I just have a message for you – from Viv.” She paused and the weight in her words told Cronus who was in charge of E2 now. “Wanna take a walk with me?” She asked, flicking back to her usual irreverent manner, “I got you a present!”

The present was a fresh 20 pack of Marlboros and Cronus had to restrain himself from just snatching them out of her hands.

She grinned at his acquiescence and before long they were walking down the unfamiliar roads, Cronus sucking down nicotine like a lifeline while Sara spoke in her usual bubbly tones.

“Basically, Viv’s in charge. You can challenge that but she’ll kill you. Actually if you enter E2 she’ll kill you to be perfectly honest. Just stay away from Bethnal Green and everything will be fine, okay?”

Cronus nodded. Focusing on the smoke billowing from his lips and not the nudges and wink Sara peppered her talk with. He didn’t want anything to do with his father’s business. Viv was welcome to it.

“Now obviously Viv isn’t trying to take the piss,” Sara continued, “She’ll let the police gather up all your stuff and whatnot – but if they offer you the chance to move back into your own house, you say no, okay? Go live with family or whatever – she don’t care, just don’t come back to her patch, okay?” Almost as an afterthought she added, “Oh and as a mark of respect she’s giving you a couple bob to get by.”

Sara handed him a cheque she pulled from her hoody pocket with a flourish.

It was for fifty thousand pounds.

Cronus swallowed nervously.

“Say.. say I said thank you.” He said awkwardly, “And that I wouldn’t dream of coming back – making trouble-”

“See I said you were smart!” Sara crowed, giving him a peck on the cheek as she’d done the night of –

                No, no, don’t think of that now-

“And obviously if the police get anything on any of us, you ain’t to testify – or, obviously,”

“She’ll kill me.” Cronus finished.

“That’s right!” Sara beamed, “Well that was a nice chat wasn’t it? Enjoy the cigarettes and – and I really mean – don’t ever come back to Bethnal Green again.”

Once more her words didn’t match her expression and Cronus watched her go with a feeling of hopeless bewilderment.

How did she even find me-?

                Fifty thousand pounds??

                                What would I even miss about Bethnal Green anyway-?

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket Cronus checked it to find 6 missed calls and a whole lot more messages.

The top message was from an unknown number and read:

What the fuck did I tell u?

I’ll get one of my gals to call later

Since apparently blood is thicker than water or some shit

E

Cronus quickly deleted that message and looked at the rest.

Missed calls: Horuss (6)

He frowned. He hadn’t thought of the huge Greek lad all day, but the little notification on his screen made him feel the phantom sensation of a heavy hand squeezing his shoulder and for a moment he thought he could smell the comforting blend of oil and sweat and soap –

Horuss had left nineteen texts in his inbox too – beginning at “concerned” and ending at “frantic”.

The first read:

Hello Cronus, Dad and I heard news of a mob-related shooting last night. I’m probably being silly but just thought I would check that you’re okay. Feel free to pop in later by the way – you might have seen we were closed last night but I’ll be working as usual later - Horuss

And the last message read:

Please please call me back Im so sorry about ur dad its all over the news dad says you can stay as long as u like pls let me know if ur ok ill help in any way I can just come to the garage well work something out dad says he can probably cover legal fees if u need pls call me back

Cronus looked at the corner of his screen. 4% battery. His charger was somewhere in his bedroom. At home where he was forbidden from returning.

And his best – only – friend in the world was losing his mind and begging Cronus to go see him.

At the garage. In the town he was forbidden from returning to. On pain of death.

Cronus felt panic grip his throat. He suddenly needed Horuss – needed him to fix everything like he always did.

But what do I say – how can I explain –?

Before his phone could die he typed out a clumsy message

Dont panic. Im ok. Really want to see u but cant come round rn will exlpn later. Phone dying.

Before he sent it he added “sorry” then found a bench to sit on, reading over Horuss’ messages until his phone went dead. It was comforting to think about taking Horuss up on his offer –hanging out again in the garage and curling at the far end of Horuss’ sofa – no matter how impossible the scenario now was.

It was better than thinking about the tiny terraced house he had to go back to. With Kankri’s distance, Mr Vantas’ pity and Porrim’s hate to welcome him.

Chapter Text

When Cronus had gathered enough energy to lift himself from the bench and find his way back round the streets of Finchley to the Vantas’ home, it was getting dark.

His phone had died and he had no idea of the time, but equally he didn’t really care. It didn’t feel particularly important. Neither did the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day or that that day’s edition of the Metro had featured his dad’s death on the front page, judging by a ratty copy he kicked at on his way past.

When he finally found his way back to the little terraced house he was sure was Vantas’ he realised he didn’t have keys to get in, and stood, frozen at the doorway, unwilling to knock in case he came face-to-face with Porrim.

“Um, I’ll let you in, shall I?” a prim voice said from behind him, and Cronus turned to see Kankri Vantas coming up the driveway, his thick curls a little dishevelled in the February wind.

Wind… it’s windy – no- it’s freezing.

Cronus blinked and looked down at his hands. His fingertips were going blue. He hadn’t put on a coat before he’d gone out, and he’d been out… for how long?

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he muttered belatedly to Kankri, and then, “What time is it?”

“Six – fourteen,” the other boy replied, rolling up the sleeve of his ostentatious blazer and looking down at his digital watch before opening the door. “Dad’ll be home soon. Looks like Porrim went out.”

“Mm-hmm,” Cronus replied, hardly listening. Quarter past six – I’ve lost time again…

For want of anything better to do he followed Kankri into the kitchen and watched as he fussily began flicking lights on and unpacking his homework onto the dinner table.

Cronus wasn’t used to such a small house. How do three of them live here? It’s like a hamster cage…

The kitchen was just big enough for a fridge, oven and countertop, with a washing machine and dryer in a little outhouse out the back door. The space felt cramped with just Cronus and Kankri there, and Cronus could already imagine the careful ballet that must occur to negotiate the space when more than one person was cooking.

The floor was clean, but clearly cheap laminate; the dining table looked ancient, with children’s crayon marks embedded in the grain; and all the appliances had that strained Sainsbury’s Basics feel about them.

Cronus felt the cheque burning in his pocket.

What the fuck do I need fifty thousand pounds for??

He suddenly felt horribly out of place in the little house – but then his eyes landed on Kankri in his posh, private college uniform and that felt out of place too…

Before he could put together what was bothering him, Kankri startled him by talking -

“Do you want a sandwich or something?” The other boy asked, as he began setting up to make his own, “Dinner’s not usually until eightish – I can never last that long.”

Cronus looked at him blankly, too disorientated from being yanked from his thoughts to understand the question.

Kankri laughed self-consciously under his gaze, then seemed to wilt a little.

“I’m sorry I took your cigarettes.” He blurted out in a rush, his dark skin flushing.

Cronus blinked and properly focused his eyes on Kankri. He hadn’t been trying to psyche to other boy out, but this was as good a distraction as any.

“S’all right,” he drawled, dragging some of his former attitude up and looking Kankri up and down to watch the smaller lad squirm, “Why’d you do it, anyway?”

“I…. wantedtotryone.”

Kankri turned quickly to grab sandwich fillings out of the fridge and Cronus snorted.

“Sorry what was that?”

“I wanted… I wanted to try one.” Kankri said, dumping his ingredients on the countertop and trying (but – much to Cronus’ delight – failing utterly) to hide his blush by industriously making sarnies.

“And how did that go for you?” He prompted, leaning over the countertop to make it harder for Kankri to evade him.

Kankri huffed and met his eyes. “Tasted like shit. Smelled like shit. Made me dizzy. I want another.”

Cronus laughed then and leant back. Kankri smiled ruefully.

“Here – take them away from me,” The other boy said, tugging Cronus’ old pack from his smart uniform trouser pocket and handing them over. “If dad smells smoke on me there’ll be hell to pay.”

Cronus wrinkled his brow. That didn’t sound like the counsellor he knew.

“Are you sure..?”

Kankri sighed and slid a finished ham sandwich over to Cronus.

“Well, no. But there’ll be a really long talk about why smoking is bad and then he’ll say he’s disappointed in me. And that’ll be worse.”

Cronus nodded, feeling a strange second hand shame. If Mr Vantas ever raised the subject he’d probably quit smoking in an instant, just to stop the man turning those deep, sad, firey eyes on him.

Cronus thought about it a little more.

Well at least he’d try to quit. Like, for a least a week.

The lads ate their sandwiches in what was only a slightly awkward silence and Cronus accepted Kankri’s offer to come watch a bit of telly with him before anyone else came home.

It was university challenge. Kankri knew an infuriating number of answers, while Cronus spent half an hour staring dumbly at the screen and judging the haircuts and clothes of the contestants. His phone fit Kankri's charger though, and seeing the battery percentage slowly rise was comforting.

When Mr Vantas got home he kept up a flow of light-hearted chatter while he cooked dinner. Porrim came home just in time for dinner and the chat got a little more tense as it became quickly apparent that only Mr Vantas and Kankri were going to contribute. Cronus felt too strange sat at someone else’s kitchen table, and Porrim was too busy throwing him sullen glances to talk about her day.

Thankfully after dinner Kankri and Porrim retreated to their rooms, and Cronus offered to wash the dishes for want of something to do.

Mr Vantas seemed busy texting someone for a long while and Cronus let his mind go blank as he scrubbed the pans and scraped the remains of chilli con carne off of four plates – something that seemed easier than usual, a grey cloud settling coolly over the usual vortex of thoughts - but after a while Cronus became aware that the sound of texting had stopped. He looked over his shoulder and saw Mr Vantas looking at him.

“…What?”

Cronus had been aiming for “belligerent”, but the word came out horribly childish. Mr Vantas’ response didn’t help how small he suddenly felt, either.

“You didn’t eat a lot, Cronus, are you feeling okay?

“…Yeah.” If only the counsellor would stop looking at him with that awful concern. Why does he even care? “Had a sandwich earlier. M’fine.”

He turned to go back to washing dishes as Mr Vantas stood up, his chair screeching back on the tiled floor like an omen of things to come.

“The police are coming round tomorrow with some of your things – so you can have your own clothes and… and things like that.”

Cronus grunted, not turning round because he knew what was coming next and he knew he didn’t want to hear it.

“Look, I’ll finish that up – we should really talk Cronus. About what happened, about some more long term plans.”

Cronus dried his hands and turned to Mr Vantas, unable to look him in the face, knowing that the expression on the older man’s face would be so earnest and caring and tired that he’d give in.

“Cronus?” Mr Vantas tugged tiredly at his tie and ran a hand through his disordered hair, “If you can’t talk to me I can call the grief counsellors the police gave me a contact number for..?”

“No.” Cronus blurted out, then, finding something in his pockets to distract them from the current conversation, he thrust the cheque Sara had given him into Mr Vantas’ hands.

“What’s thi- ? Fuck.” The older man swore, looking at the value, then, hurriedly, “I mean – sorry – I mean – I just, wow, this is a lot of money.”

“You have it.” Cronus said quickly. “You have it – I don’t want it.”

Mr Vantas looked at him sharply, “It’s your money Cronus – if you have a bank account I’ll get it cashed for you if you like. But I’m not taking it…“ His face changed suddenly, a look of knowing settling over his features, “What were the conditions?”

Cronus blinked – How did he know? – Then hung his head.

“Can’t go home.” He whispered, still feeling curiously detached about the whole thing.

Vantas nodded, “Well don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you need – until the police contact your next of kin and sort something out.”

That hit him. He feel his stomach sink like it was full of lead.

No fucking way am I going to go live with the Empress. Even if she’d have me – which I doubt. It’d be ten times worse than with dad…

Misinterpreting his stormy expression, the counsellor chuckled softly,

“Don’t worry – Porrim won’t always be this frosty – she’s a very empathic girl at heart. She just… has strong feelings about things. There’s no grey areas for Porrim.”

When Cronus didn’t answer Mr Vantas continued smoothly, “Are you going to be okay on the sofa again? I could ask Kankri to share his room-?”

“No it’s okay. It’s fine. Actually I’m tired now – can I..?”

Thankfully Mr Vantas nodded and Cronus escaped to the living room, pulling the borrowed sheets over his head.

The next day no one pressured him into going to college – or even to get out of his makeshift bed. Cronus was allowed to mope and smoke for as long as he liked, it seemed. The police came and went, dropping off crates of belongings and talking in hushed voices with Mr Vantas. A week drifted by that way and Cronus only dully noticed that his hearing in his damaged ear didn’t seem to be returning. He also read each one of Horuss’ worried texts, without actually managing to summon the energy to reply.

He stopped reading the news and watching the television when it became clear that local channels would cover nothing but “the End of the Orphaner” – and particularly as people started to come forward to testify against his father. Watching TJ’s pinched face as he explained Dualscar’s extortion made Cronus feel sick. He hadn’t been named yet – but surely it was only a matter of time?

                And then everyone would know what I’d done – or at least some of it – oh god they’d find out the rest –

Except TJ was only mentioning Dualscar – not anything of the lads and lasses.

Viv must be controlling what he says… but how long will she protect me..?

The panic settled in as a dull nausea and Cronus focused on sleeping to try ignore it.

After a week or so of this Mr Vantas sat down on the sofa beside his feet and gently shook him out of his half-sleep.

“Cronus, if you can’t talk to me I need to contact the grief counsellors. You can’t hold everything inside yourself forever.”

Cronus squinted back at him from under the covers. Why did he seem so… far away? Like Cronus was looking at him from the bottom of a well. It took all the effort he had in him to formulate his response:

“Watch me.”

Vantas snorted.

“Okay well how about this, either you go back to college tomorrow, or we have to sit down and talk about your father.”

Cronus pulled the cover back over his head. That was an easy one.

“College.”

The next day Mr Vantas drove him into college, which felt… weird. Particularly as Porrim said she’d get the bus as usual and sneered at Cronus as Mr Vantas fussed around him like a mother hen.

It’s like I need supervision – like fucking Mituna.

Despite how dubious he felt about his return, the day started reasonably okay. Apart from some intolerably pitying looks from students and teachers alike, he managed to get through maths and politics just fine and found he had the appetite to eat a slice of microwaved pizza at lunch, despite how much it tasted grey and nothing-y in his mouth.

It was the five minutes before History that everything fell apart. Cronus had showed up a little early since he didn’t have anything better to do on his lunch break, and was once again staring at unanswered texts on his phone from Horuss with a dull twinge of guilt when a shadow fell across his screen.

He looked up and found himself face to face (well, face to chin) with Kurloz Makara.

The lanky boy was dressed in his usual oversized hoody, and today was worrying a sleeve between his teeth.

He didn’t say anything for a long while, just stood looking at Cronus and biting away at the sleeve.

“What do you want?” Cronus asked listlessly, hoping the lad would just fuck off and leave him alone.

Instead Kurloz tugged the hoody sleeve out of his mouth and looked away.

“What?” Cronus sighed, waiting for feelings of impatience to penetrate the weird grey bubble he seemed to be living in.

Kurloz looked up again, nervously. If Cronus had had the energy he might have wondered why Kurloz Makara was nervous, but as it was he just waited.

“Wanted to say. Sorry. For what happened.” Kurloz finally grunted. Then stood looking helplessly at Cronus once more.

Cronus blinked.

Sorry.

He said that before –

                                You don’t deserve… I – I can’t tell you. But…. Forget it.

Cronus blinked again, and nearly laughed as he felt an emotion – blisteringly hot and painful, clawing its way up his throat from his stomach – what was it?

“You knew didn’t you?” he snarled, shoving his face into Kurloz’s own, “That’s what you were trying to tell me – you knew Makara was gunna kill my dad-!”

His fist was already swinging round to smash Kurloz in the face before Cronus registered that what he was feeling was anger –

No – fury.

It was fantastic.

His fist connected with a loud crack, and as he raised it again he saw blood spurt from Kurloz’s nose. He also saw Kurloz’s hand come round – in slow motion, it felt – but he didn’t even try to dodge. This was about defence, it was all about attack –

Cronus rained down as many blows as he could on Kurloz before the taller boy could use his height as an advantage, using his fists to try block out what he was yelling –

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen -?” Kurloz snarled, fighting with his fists, his knees, his elbows, “Gangsters kill gansgters - it happens - ! I didn’t even have to try warn you at all!”

The last one distracted Cronus. But the blow to the gut Kurloz got in barely registered.

“Warn me? Some cryptic words after class? Nice fucking job.” He roared, shoving Kurloz back and wiping blood from his face. Whose it was he didn’t know. “Why didn’t you just tell me outright – I could have gone home – spoke to dad – I could’ve –“

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Kurloz yelled barrelling forward to knock Cronus off his feet and landing on him heavily, “He’d still be dead.”

“It would’ve made a difference to me you psycho bastard!” Cronus yelled back, kneeing Kurloz hard between the legs and flipping him when he curled in on his pain.

Cronus was dimly aware that the corridor had filled up around them and people were alternately cheering them on or looking around worriedly for teachers.

I’ll be expelled for this for sure –

                What the fuck do I care now? Dad’s not here to punish me –

Manic laughter came from somewhere and he was only slightly horrified to find that it was coming from his own mouth.

Before Kurloz could recover himself Cronus slammed his head back into the floor and put one forearm across his windpipe, leaning down heavily –

“What the fuck are you-? Fuck-?”

He heard the voice but only realised who it owner was when clumsy arms wrapped round his waist and threw him back into the wall.

“What’re you – what – stop stop!” Mituna Captor stood over Kurloz, his face screwed up in fear and anger, his fists clenched and shaking at his sides.

His carer was stood to one side, frantically talking on the phone –

“Move. Now.” Cronus panted, drawing himself up to his full height and sizing Mituna up.

He was small – but wiry - and he was a ball of frantic energy when wound up.

“Nuh-nuh-No” Mituna gasped, and Cronus sneered.

“Yuh-yuh-yes.” He replied, punching out in two quick snaps and hitting Mituna hard in the shoulder and the stomach.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Someone yelled from the crowd, “You can’t hit him –“

But Cronus’ world was narrowed to a tight red line of anger and oh yes he could-

Mituna looked up and his eyes were almost sparking with fury – he began lashing out wildly, crying and yelling as he did so – some blows connecting, some missing the mark altogether.

“Mituna – no, stop,” Kurloz croaked, getting to his feet and dragging Mituna behind him. “Touch him again and I’ll kill you.” He spat at Cronus -

Who laughed again, a raw, furious, awful laugh.

“Says the guy who just had to be defended by a div. Fucking try me.”

Kurloz’s eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted in fury. They lunged for each other.

Kurloz was slamming Cronus’ head into the wall – at the exact same time that Cronus was squeezing his hands closed around Kurloz’s windpipe – when a loud whistle broke screeched through the hallway.

“BREAK IT UP. NOW. OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE.”

Whipping round the two interlocked fighters saw their red-faced history teacher joined by their head of year and a security guard. They sprang apart and Kurloz sagged – while Cronus set off at high speed, shoving a path through the shocked onlookers.

After a minute it was clear that no one was following him, but he kept going until he was out onto the athletics field, chasing the adrenaline in his system as it numbed the pain from the fight, but also because it was the first time he’d felt something in a long time.

Before he could reach the far end, however, someone started yelling at him-

“Oi! Cronus!”

I don’t think so mate… He put on a burst of speed.

“Cronus Ampora don’t you dare fucking ignore me.”

Wait –

He whipped round and almost fell flat on his arse as he came to a complete stop. Porrim Maryam was flat-out sprinting across the field towards him, the heels of her boots flicking dirt and grass up the back of her woollen dress, but she paid it no mind.

“Shouldn’t you be in lessons?” He called to her as she approached.

She stopped a few feet away and took a second to bend over a get her breath back. Cronus stood, clenching and unclenching his fists, not sure what else to say.

“Shouldn’t you… not be beating the hell out of… Mob boss’ families?” She gasped, raising her head to look him in the eye, then, “You look like shit, do you know that?”

“I –“ Cronus raised a hand to his aching face, then decided he didn’t want to know what the damage was, “how do you know-?”

Porrim rolled her eyes and flicked the twists of her hair back over her shoulder.

“Literally everyone in college has been yelling about it at the top of their voices for the last five minutes. Also you ran past my classroom covered in blood. Which brings me back to my earlier point – you look like shit.”

Cronus flinched away from her when she reached out, but she huffed angrily and grabbed his arm.

“C’mon, we’re going for a walk.”

Cronus looked at her in bemusement.

“Why?”

Porrim sighed, and began tugging him along like an errant dog on a leash.

“Because you’re currently radiating crazy and I don’t think you should be left alone.”

“I’m not- “

“You need to go see dad.” She said, dismissing his protest. “Now. Before things get any worse for you.”

Mr Vantas’ stern eyes appeared in Cronus’ mind for a moment, then clouded over with disappointment. Cronus shuddered and dismissed the thought.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I’m expelled.” He grumbled as they began to walk the perimeter of the field.

“You should.” Porrim bit back, and Cronus looked at her incredulously.

“Why?”

“Because dad put his neck on the line for you! Because you might lose him his job!” She snapped, slapping his shoulder and catching one of his fast-forming bruises, “Could you stop being a liability to him for one second??”

“...Sorry.” He said sullenly, feeling her words stick in his gut like needles.

“Are you though?” She demanded, stopping to stand in front of him, and jabbing an authoritative finger at his chest, “Go and see him. Help put this right.”

“I don’t want to.” Cronus growled, feeling his hackles rise as she got into his space again.

“Why? What’s your problem?” She yelled, her hand curling to a fist at his chest.

“I – I let him down okay? I’m fucking ashamed!” He yelled back. The anger had returned, only he couldn’t figure out whether it was directed at himself, or Porrim – or what he could do about it – was she trying to provoke him because it was fucking working -

Porrim cut off his whirring thoughts by doing something Cronus couldn’t have predicted in a million years –

Grabbing his shirt she yanked him down and pulled him into an insistent, hungry kiss.

Cronus was so surprised that for a moment he just froze, then instinctively kissed back.

The kiss was clumsy, with teeth clashing and lips being nicked and bruised – but for a moment there was nothing but their gasping breaths and the voracious need to feel the others lips – hands – something –

Just as a tiny voice in Cronus’ mind whispered you realise that’s Porrim Maryam you’re snogging, the same voice seemed to bring Porrim to her senses and they broke apart, looking away and flushing.

“Uh…” Cronus began, trying not to stare too obviously at how he had ruined her lipstick.

“Not a word.” Porrim whispered, her horror plain in her voice, “Don’t say a word. Don’t mention this again. I… I don’t – Look, we need to get you cleaned up, come with me.”

She tugged him insistently, and he followed wordlessly, trying to process the last few minutes.

Porrim led him into the sports hall disabled bathroom, which was thankfully empty, and locked them in so she could scrub blood from his face.

She gestured for him to sit on the toilet lid, and then demanded his jacket so she didn’t have to kneel on the bare tiles. It was easier to comply, but Cronus felt a spike of annoyance at the sight of his leather jacket on the damp tiles of the bathroom.

Annoyance. That’s another feeling! Maybe everything will stop feeling like I’m underwater all the time -

“Ow,” Cronus hissed as Porrim dabbed the blood from his lips and nose.

“Don’t be a baby,” she snapped back, “actually, no, don’t be a violent lunatic. I think your nose is broken.”

“Great.”

The tension wasn’t greatly helped by having Porrim kneeling between his legs, Cronus thought, trying to occupy his mind by counting her numerous piercings.

Porrim sighed, “Don’t worry. If you don’t want to draw attention to this I can cover it with makeup.” She didn’t look at him while she made the offer.

 “…Yes please.”

Oh god we live together. Is it going to be this fucking awkward all the time?

Cronus thought of the kiss, then tried not to flush as she leant in to work, her elbows resting on his thighs and her perfume almost making the cubicle pleasant.

So yes then.

Porrim worked in silence for a while, wiping blood and holding cold soaked paper towels against the worst of his bruises. Cronus said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever entity had granted him an uneasy peace with Porrim – needed especially since the comfortable numbness had fled his mind and his thoughts were beginning to swirl once more. He didn’t feel like fighting again…

“So what exactly happened?” Porrim finally asked, putting aside the bloodied paper towels and reaching for her makeup.

Cronus sighed, of course the peace couldn’t last for long…

“I don’t know. Kurloz mentioned dad….” He found he didn’t really want to go into it now that the adrenaline from his anger had worn off- but since he’d started thinking about it he remembered something else.

“Oh no.”

“What.” Porrim gaze was like a laser cutter and Cronus flinched away from it, suddenly feeling trapped rather than safe in the locked stall.

“I – Mituna – “ How do I put this without sounding like the biggest piece of shit in the world?

“What did you do?” Porrim reflexively squeezed his knee with her long fingernails and he slapped at her hand.

“It was an accident!” The protest tasted lame and childish in his mouth, and it didn’t appease Porrim at all, who stood up to loom over him. Her hair swinging forward and making him think for an awful moment of Medusa’s snakes swinging forward to attack -

“What the fuck did you do?”

When he didn’t answer Porrim rolled her eyes and crouched a little so she could talk to him eye to eye.

“He’s coming round with Si at the weekend,” she said slowly, a bright artificial smile on her lips, “you better tell me so we can figure out how much Si is going to want to kill you.”

Cronus swallowed.

“I…may have punched him. And called him… Something not nice...”

Porrim’s look of disgust shut him up.

“Every time I think you might… just when you…” Porrim scowled and pinched his knee again, “Can you try and not be so horrendous a fuck up for like, one day?”

“Let me guess, I’m acting like my father again,” Cronus muttered, trying not to acknowledge the burning shame in his chest.

“No!” Porrim snapped, “You’re acting like a bully because you can’t handle what’s going on around you. Go talk to dad. Or call the therapy people the police told you to. You can’t hold everything in forever.”

Oh god why does she have to sound so much like Mr Vantas -

“Watch me,” Cronus replied, but his heart wasn’t in it.

*

Cronus went home after Porrim deemed it was safe to leave the disabled toilet – lesson time had changed but everyone was back safe inside classrooms, and the witch-hunt for Cronus seemed to have died down.

“I’m going to go explain things to dad, see if he can do some damage control,” she said, reapplying her lipstick and shooting him a pointed look that clearly threatened death if he dared tell anyone about the kiss. “Go home. Go to class. Do what the fuck you like, I’ve wasted enough of my day on you for now.”

Cronus took the proffered house-key and left, feeling a strange mixture of anger, sadness and shame swirling in him. After so long just feeling nothing the mixture was heady and disorienting. He hoped it would go away soon – but after he’d made the tube journey home, had a shower, and sat calmly watching television for an hour and still felt the same, he realised it probably wasn’t going to.

He felt like someone had ripped a plaster off of his brain – like his whole body was an exposed nerve – everything seemed too intense…

Fuck you Kurloz, he thought bitterly as the flashbacks started.

Cronus gripped the edge of the sofa and gritted his teeth as the memory of a gunshot rang in his ears –

Crack

The axe came down on the dead man, severing his arm

Crack

A lad’s fist caught him in the jaw

Crack

TJs face twisted in agony as his kneecap shattered

Crack

The girl’s eyes rolling back in her head as the blood erupted from her chest

Crack

His father’s lifeless eyes and the trail of blood and brains staining the office wallpaper

Cr-

“Cronus?”

Cronus’ eyes flew open. Kankri Vantas was stood in front of him, wringing his hands.

“You’re shaking, should I call the doctors?”

Cronus opened his mouth – but his throat felt too thick to force out any words.

“Are… are you alright?”

Cronus swallowed and tried to say “I’m fine,” but all that came out was a strangled sob, and suddenly he was crying like a dam had burst, his body racked with each moan that tore its way out of his throat.

“Ah! Oh no! Stop – don’t-!” Cronus was vaguely aware of Kankri panicking, but was helpless to stop his choking cries, instead curling in on himself so his head touched his knees and putting his arms like a protective shield over him.

“Please stop, it’s okay,” Kankri said weakly, sitting down and putting a tentative hand on Cronus’ shoulder – but the light touch somehow made things worse and Cronus couldn’t stop his sobbing now if he tried.

“Please, Cronus? It’s going to be okay – uh, should I call dad? Uh…” Kankri awkwardly put his arm round Cronus’ shaking shoulder and squeezed him.

“Cronus?” Kankri sounded on the verge of tears himself and that thought was enough to help Cronus get a grip on himself, but it was another five minutes of sniffing, hiccupping and muttering “sorry” before he felt able to properly speak.

“Here,” Kankri handed him a packet of tissues with shaking hands, and Cronus took one gratefully, wincing as he blew his broken nose.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, unable to look Kankri in the eye, “Sorry I just – I dunno what happened, sorry about that. Freaked you out, didn’t I?”

“A bit,” Kankri said shakily, “Are you…. Okay?”

Cronus tried to answer the question honestly,

“I have no idea.”

Kankri looked at him for a moment, his big brown eyes troubled and his teeth biting unconsciously at his lip, then,

“…Do you want to watch university challenge?”

Cronus snorted, “Yeah go on then.”

Kankri gave a visible sigh of relief, then came to sit down next to Cronus on the sofa, leaning against him a little every now and then like it was the Kankri Vantas version of a hug.

Still, Cronus wasn’t complaining as the light shoulder touches were all that were keeping the flashbacks at bay.

Just as Cronus was preparing his thoughts on what to say to Mr Vantas when he got home – and, perhaps more pressingly, what to say to Si when he came round with Mituna at the week-end – the doorbell rang.

Kankri jumped up and bustled to get the door and Cronus continued trying to find a good reason for screaming hate-words at Mituna, assuming it was a delivery or something, when a familiar rumble caught his attention.

“Cronus – it’s for you,” Kankri said primly, coming back into the room.

“Who is it?” Cronus asked, the guilt in his stomach telling him he already knew the answer.

“Don’t know – a big guy. Long hair.”

Shit.

He approached the front door sheepishly, and Horuss’ big honest face made everything a hundred times worse because he didn’t even look angry that Cronus had been ignoring his messages – he just looked… concerned and  -

Wait –

“Is your arm broken?” Cronus asked, then blushed at the look Horuss gave him.

“That’s the first thing you want to say?”

“I- no – I’m sorry.” Cronus said, taking a step back, nice one idiot, way to ruin the one friendship you have, “I Just – “

“I was so worried!” Horuss interrupted, tugging his hair anxiously where it fell down over his overalls. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened!” Cronus couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just launched himself at Horuss, holding him tight and breathing shakily.

The huge arms that wrapped round him felt strong and safe. Cronus realised he’d missed Horuss more than he realised. The lad felt like… shelter.

“Don’t just bloody disappear,” Horuss whispered, “Christ do you know how hard it was to find you?”

Cronus pulled away but kept one hand on Horuss’ arm since he couldn’t bear to let go altogether, “How did you find me?”

“Told your college I was your cousin,” Horuss said, grinning crookedly, “from the Greek side of your family. They gave me this address right away. So much for confidentiality.”

Cronus snorted, “Nice. Well, actually, a little worrying, but it’s not like everyone who wants to find me would have a hard time of it – come in.”

 Cronus went to tug Horuss’ arm to pull him over the theshold and then remembered the cast on the other one,

“Wait – your arm-?”

“I, well – it’s a long story.” Horuus said, frowning. “Do you know someone called Rehin? Or Viv maybe?”

Cronus clenched his jaw.

“Fuck.”

“They wanted money,” Horuss said, shrugging, “Dad won’t give them what they want, but they’re really, uh, putting the pressure on.”

Cronus looked over Horuss appraisingly. The other boy looked… tired. His eyes were shadowed with heavy bags and his brow was creased in worry. A fading bruise was still visible on his jaw, and when Horuss gave him an anxious grin Cronus noticed he had a least a few teeth missing.

Fuck fuck fuck -

“Don’t fight them.” Cronus said, his voice going dead and cold, “They really won’t hesitate to kill you if you keep this up.”

Horuss laughed nervously, then saw Cronus’ face.

“I know,” he mumbled, “but dad says we shouldn’t give in to bullies. That way they win.”

“No mate.” Cronus said, pulling Horuss inside and closing the door behind them, as if that could protect his friend somehow, “If you don’t do as they say then they still win. Because they win if you comply, but they also win when you and your dad are dead and they’re dividing your business up between them.”

Horuss gaped at him and Cronus was about to find some platitude he could say to lessen the blow of his words – when his phone rang, making them both jump.

“Gimme a sec?” Horuss nodded and, since Kankri poked his head round the living room door Cronus added, “Kankri, can my friend have a cuppa?”

Kankri nodded and motioned down the hallway. Cronus answered the phone when Horuss and Kankri were safely in the kitchen.

“Hello?” Is this Viv? Sara? – oh god it could be Ms Pyrope -

“You ‘right, cuz?” came a familiar voice through the speaker, “Mum sez you’re in a bit of trouble. Uncle Ampora’s dead, in’he?”

“Yes,” Cronus croaked back. Cuz. Meenah. The Empress’ only daughter, and her successor. A more dangerous teenager could not be found in London.

“Ah well” Meenah continued blithely, “Shit happens. He always gave me crap Christmas presents anyway.”

“What do you want Meenah?” Cronus forced himself to keep his tone polite. No need to antagonise his volatile cousin unnecessarily, particularly if the police pushed them into, well, at least meeting with him, if not adopting him - 

“Two things,” Meenah continued in a lazy drawl, “one: mum sez you might be moving in with us. Lemme just say now that I’m not on board because she’s thinking about giving you the spare room. Which is my wardrobe. You ain’t having my wardrobe, you get me?”

“Yep.” Cronus looked wistfully up the hallway at the kitchen, where tiny Kankri was handing giant Horuss a cup of tea. He would join them – but Meenah’s sharp voice still continued in his ear.

“You’re nearly eighteen anyway, right? Mum could just buy you a flat – you’d like that better wouldn’t you? You’ve got that whole lone wolf thing going on… Or should I say lonely wolf?”

Her laugh grated on his nerves, but he wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

“What’s number two?” He ground out, his polite tone sounding strained in his own ears.

“Well you’re not gunna like this,” Meenah said, yawning loudly down the phone as if the whole conversation was an incredible bore to her, “but mum wants to drive that Viv woman out of E2. Sez she didn’t have the authority to take over. Sez she shouldn’t have banished you – she didn’t have the right… Mum wants you to help in the operation. Sez she wants to hand over that patch to the Frenchie. I said you wouldn’t want to get involved…”

“No.” Cronus interrupted quickly, catching sight of Horuss’ broken arm as he carefully sipped tea in the kitchen, “No, I… I’m in. Viv has to go.”

There was a pause and then,

“…Alright I’ll tell her. You know, I’m almost impressed. Almost. Catch you later cuz.”

Meenah hung up. Cronus stared at his phone.

Did I just agree to get involved in a turf war?

“Cronus, would you like a cup too?” Horuss’ deep voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah go on then.” He replied absently, seeing the bruises on Horuss’ jaw and thinking of how much worse the lads and lasses could make things for the mechanics on Canrobert Street.

Yes I did.

Chapter Text

Horuss and Kankri had been chatting amicably when Cronus re-joined them, but after a little while Kankri seemed to sense their need to have a proper talk and retreated to his room, making an excuse about homework.

As he left Cronus flashed him a grateful grin, then motioned for Horuss to join him in the living room.

They sat, perhaps a little stiffly, on the sofa while Horuss finished his tea. The second he put the mug down Cronus cleared his throat and Horuss looked at him warily.

“What?”

He looks so tired, god half his face is a mess and he’s just fine with that??

Cronus felt the urge to touch Horuss’ poor battered face, to comfort him in some way, to let him know he was sorry he’d been dragged into the awful mob world, to say sorry for ignoring him -

Cronus shook himself before his staring could drag on too long.

“I just…” What do I even say?

Horuss sighed, “Come here,” reaching out with his good arm he gently pulled Cronus into the hug he realised he’d been craving, sinking back into the sofa so they were lounging comfortably and letting Cronus nestle his head into Horuss broad chest.

Horuss didn’t speak for a long time, just breathed slowly, letting his good hand draw patterns on Cronus’ back. Cronus for his part felt safe for the first time in he didn’t know how long the moment Horuss’ huge arm had closed around him and just lay contented, feeling soft locks of long black hair tickling his cheeks.

He’s like a mountain –

                What do I mean by that-?

After an age Horuss spoke, his words soft but the rumble Cronus could feel against his cheek was low and strong. “I really am sorry – about your dad… Cronus?”

Cronus started, realising he’d got lost inside his own thoughts.

                That wasn’t losing time though, so that’s okay

                                Isn’t it?

He scrambled for a reply, clutching instinctively at Horuss’ side for comfort.

“Uh, yeah, thanks…” He began, his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth, “It’s his own fault isn’t it, really?”

That startled him.

What do I mean by that?

Words his brain must have been cultivating for a week start rising up in him, “Like, what did he expect? In that line of work you can’t live forever – and he ordered killing of Makara’s clowns on his patch – fucking stupid-”

“Cronus,” Horuss said again, just as softly, his words accompanied by a gentle stroking motion on Cronus’ neck that made him shiver, then relax a little.

“I know.” Cronus sighed, worrying his head into Horuss’ chest until the other boy tutted and squeezed him tighter to make him stop. “I know… This is hard. N’ Weird. But, like - He was my dad. But I – it’s like I – I need someone to be angry at,” Cronus let the words flow out before he could stop them. Somehow he knew Horuss would understand, “in my head the only person it makes sense to be angry at is him. I can’t even be mad at Makara and he fucking deafened me, but-”

“Wait, what?” Horuss interjected, shifting to make Cronus sit up, and clutching almost painfully at his arm, “The other mob boss - he did what?”

“Oh,” Cronus suddenly felt sheepish under the intense scrutiny of Horuss’ concern. “Yeah. Gunshot. Right by my ear. Right one. It’s been a week now and no sound’s come back so…”

Horuss’ eyebrow sloped in horrified concern then he reached out gently to Cronus’ temple and stroked over his new scars,

“He did this too?”

“Yeah.” Cronus said, marvelling at the causal nature of the touch. At how easily he accepted and expected Horuss’ affection.

He’s my friend. It’s what friends do. Don’t act weird we’re always like this.

                When I’m upset. When I’ve done something bad. It’s different this time.

                                Why?

“S’fine though.” Was all he said.

Horuss snorted and went to cross his arms – then found himself hindered by his cast. It was Cronus’ turn to snort.

“Yeah, don’t give me all that – Viv broke your fucking arm.”

Horuss suddenly blanched and looked away, and Cronus bit his lip.

                That’s it. That’s what’s different. He’s the one upset. I have to help him.

                                                                                                                                                How??

                Oh god for starters watch your mouth. He’s not used to violence you fucking idiot – that was probably the worst day of his life or something -

“It was a young women, actually.” Horuss said quietly before Cronus’ thoughts could spiral down too far, “Not Viv. I know she’s old, you mentioned… And I’m fine. This will heal – your hearing though-”

“Fuck my hearing,” Cronus snapped, then bit his lip. “Sorry, it’s just…”

But he couldn’t seem to find the words, so instead he positioned himself back against Horuss’ chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his barrel-like chest, and listened to the other lad’s steady heartbeat through his overalls.

The tiny living room didn’t feel too small when Horuss was there. Even if the ancient sofa was crushed up against the wall so the door would open, and the huge antiquated television took up most of the far wall…

“Can you tell me about the people who came into your shop?” Cronus said after a while.

Horuss grumbled quietly but did as asked after a moment, “The first time they just came to talk. It was a tall, slender Indian man with a scar above his lip; a short, quite, um, curvy girl with very large curly hair – it was dyed blonde at the ends I remember; and then the woman I assume is “Viv”. She was an old gaunt white lady with short grey hair – slicked back.

Yep that’s Viv – and Rehin and Sara. No Mikey.

Cronus told himself that Mikey was probably just off sick or on another job that night. He refused to think of the alternative just yet.

“And the second time they came?” Cronus asked, concentrating on Horuss’ heart beat – had it sped up? It was hard to tell when it was so constant.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump…

“The second time it was just the girl with the big hair and the Indian man.” Horuss began slowly, “It was just me and Jinan working because Matt had his kids that night and Layla’s on holiday. When they came in they closed the shutter behind them and I told them we weren’t closed. They said we were. Jinan went to open the shutter and the Indian man said something to him in Bengali that scared him. Really scared him. He went grey and didn’t move.

They asked where my dad was – I told them he only came to the shop floor if there was an emergency or something we couldn’t fix. They said they’d make something he couldn’t fix. It went over my head at the time but that was a warning.”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump -

The heart beat was definitely speeding up.

“The girl pulled out a metal bar” Horuss continued, his voice steady as ever, but his hand was clenched a little too tight on Cronus’ upper arm now, “not a crowbar but like a length of metal pipe or something. It was heavy whatever it was. She reiterated the terms Viv wanted – twenty percent of our profits each month – and when I said no she smashed up the front of the car I was working on.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-

“When she did that Jinan and I protested – Jinan went to call the police I think – he had his phone out – and the Indian man slammed his head into the wall. The girl – I didn’t want to hurt her, I was just trying to get the pipe off of her – well I went towards her and she swung the pipe-“

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump-

“And then?” Cronus prompted, looking up at Horuss’ face.

“It broke my arm, obviously,” Horuss said, trying to smile weakly but wincing as his bruised face protested. “And I slammed into the floor pretty hard hence the lost teeth.”

Horuss forehead was sporting a cold sweat and he looked like he might be sick. The heart beat wasn’t slowing down.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump-

“And what did they say after that?” Cronus said as gently as he could imagine while fury twisted in his guts.

How dare they? – How fucking dare they hurt him?? He’s off limits – dad never touched the mechanics before, never anyone who provided a valuable fucking service – what does Viv think she’s playing at-?

“The girl – she said-“ Horuss had to stop and closed his eyes for a moment. He tensed like he might just bolt out of the room. Cronus hugged him tightly – half comforting, half restraining.

                I’m sorry mate but I have to know -

“She said the next time they came round they’d kill me.” Horuss croaked, his hand like a vice on Cronus’ arm. “Actually ‘we’ll pour petrol over you and set you on fire’ was her exact phrasing. They said that was the sort of message my dad might deem important enough to listen to.”

Cronus looked up at Horuss again, he was still trying to smile, but his face was grey and Cronus could feel the tremor in his limbs.

“What did your dad say?” He asked, sitting up properly and tactfully extricating himself from Horuss’ grip. His arm would be bruised purple in an hour or so.

“We can’t cave to bullies.” He said slowly, trembling all the while.

Cronus sighed and tentatively took his good hand, stroking it. Horuss didn’t seem to notice.

“They’re not bullies mate, they’re the mob.”

“I know.”

Horuss was silent. Cronus edged a little closer to him on the little chintz sofa, the subtle movement ruined by the creak and groan of the rusty springs.

“Tell your dad you have a big essay or something.” He suggested, shrugging, “Tell him you can’t work for a week.”

“I can’t leave Matt and Jinan to that,” Horuss whispered, pressing his eyes shut, “and Layla’s back soon, what if she-?”

“They’re targeting you because you’re the owner’s son.” Cronus said with a sigh, tugging his long legs up under him so he could turn to face Horuss, confident enough now to put his hands on the other boy’s broad shoulders.

 “I have to work… but…”

“But?”

Horuss took a tiny, shaky breath and pulled Cronus close, burying his head in his shoulder.

“I’m scared.” Horuss admitted in the smallest voice imaginable.

Cronus sighed and hugged him tight. “…I know.”

Two more cups of tea later and they sat chatting idly on the sofa while the Paul O’ Grady show played on the telly in the background. The room dimmed as the wan sun slipped down the horizon. They stayed away from the subject of Bethnal Green and sat carefully on their own sofa cushions, something Cronus tried not to be disappointed by.

Just when Horuss was checking his phone and looked like he might get up to leave, Cronus couldn’t help but ask –

“Mate… can I ask…? You said the shop never closes – but on the night dad – the night it happened, the shutters were down…” he trailed off awkwardly and Horuss’ lips twisted in – what?- agitation?

                Shouldn’t have mentioned the shop – idiot.

“It was – I had a-”Horuss twiddled his fingers and Cronus suddenly realised he was embarrassed.

“What?”

“I had my art featured in an exhibition in Shoreditch. Dad insisted everyone had to go see it.” He mumbled, flushing deep red, “Dad likes to be, uh, supportive.”

Cronus laughed delightedly and punched Horuss in one huge bicep, “Horuss that’s – that’s fucking incredible. Can I come see the next one?”

Horuss groaned and tugged Cronus into a hold that was half-headlock half-hug.

“Not you too!” He wailed, while Cronus laughed and strained to get out of the impressive one-armed hold-

A car rumbling up the drive jerked Cronus from the game and found himself automatically disentangling himself from Horuss’ arms.

“That the counsellor person?” Horuss said, looking equally guilty and immediately standing up and twiddling his fingers again, “I should probably go – need to get some sleep before my shift anyway.”

Cronus thought back on the events of the day and suddenly needed his friend to stay – as a shield from Mr Vantas’ wrath.

Before he could react Horuss was pulling him into one final hug and slipping out the door. Cronus heard him introduce himself politely in a low voice, and then he was alone.

There was a moment of silence and then Mr Vantas’ yell came from the hallway.

“Cronus Ampora! Front and centre!”

Cronus felt his stomach go to water.

Oh no oh no

He stood frozen in the living room, trying to hunch in on himself to the point where he could implode and cease to exist. He could hear Mr Vantas hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes in the hallway which meant that any second now –

“Cronus I swear to god.” Vantas growled, poking his head round the living room door, then leaning on the doorframe. His posture looked exhausted but his lips were drawn tight into an angry line. “You said you wanted to go back to college. I assumed you meant to study not to beat the living hell out of your classmates.”

“I-” Cronus found panic had sealed up his throat.

He’ll move soon, he’ll get closer until he’s six inches from me, he’ll jab his fingers into my chest.

“Let me finish.” Vantas snapped, piching the bridge of his nose, “You’ve been expelled. And I’ve been put on probation for defending a dangerous student.”

Shit. Fuck.

He’ll hit me. Why wouldn’t he –? His fists are clenched – he’ll give me a clip round the ear at the very least.

“I’m so-”

“Given the circumstances,” the counsellor barrelled on, his words raw with unmistakeable ire, “your expulsion isn’t being put down on your permanent record, they’ll put compassionate leave or something – but my probation comes with a lot of sanctions that are going to make things harder for my family-”

He looked up and his eyes were burning -

He’s got to move soon – he’ll push me up against the wall, slam my head back and hiss his anger into my face.

God why did I do that today? Why didn’t I just walk away -

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Cronus was shaking uncontrollably now, expecting any second the violence, the snap that would unleash the counsellor’s obvious fury at him.

“I could-”

“I’ve done everything I can to offer you the help you need – why won’t you let me fucking help you?” Vantas finished, flinging himself down into the armchair and seeming to shrink in exhaustion, the lines on his face like gouges, his eyes deep sunken and bruised.

Cronus started at him. The counsellor’s eyes were already closed, like he planned to fall asleep there and then.

…That’s… it?

“A cup of tea would be nice considering the trouble you’ve given me.” Vantas added tiredly, his jaw cracking as an enormous yawn ripped its way out of him.

“I-” Cronus blinked. “Aren’t you going to… punish me, or…?”

“You’re going to therapy. That was the deal. College or therapy. You’ve made your choice. Milk, two sugars. Thanks. Oh and I deposited your cheque for you, your bank is very happy.”

Cronus stared some more, then slunk out of the room, to make tea with shaking hands

*

The small pseudo-family couched in the living room that evening. Kankri and Porrim shared the sofa, Mr Vantas dosed lazily in the armchair and Cronus sat uncomfortably on the spindly stool he’d taken from the kitchen. He wouldn’t mind just going to bed, but since the living room was also his bedroom, and he couldn’t imagine asking them to leave, he just sat and fiddled with his phone.

A re-run of QI was on in the background but no one was paying it much mind. Porrim was texting on her phone, Kankri was half watching, half reading his German textbook and Cronus was stewing in various levels of guilt, fear and determination.

Guilt for what he’d done to Mr Vantas’ reputation, fear for Horuss’ safety and determination to help Empress and her lot kick Viv out of E2 with as much insider knowledge as he could give them.

If only she’d phone or text or –

Outside the lights of a car briefly illuminated the dim room, and then a car door slammed and the click of heels was heard coming up the pathway.

Porrim looked at Kankri with sudden excitement written plain on her usually stoic face.

“Kanny – is that-?”

“Amma? Maybe!”

They both rushed to the door, playfully shoving each other to get into the hallway first. Cronus stayed perched on his stool, feeling safe in Mr Vantas’ presence even if the older man was asleep. He didn’t know who “am-arhh” was, but judging by the squeals Kankri and Porrim were making she was –

Kankri poked his head round the door, his face flushed with excitement and his thick curls ruffled.

“Mum’s home!”

Cronus stood then, and clutched at his phone for comfort.

What do I say? Hi, I’m Cronus. I’m living on your sofa because my dad got his head blown off-?

Porrim returned next and flung herself back on the sofa.

“Amma’s just taking her shoes off, she’ll come say hello in a minute.” She looked him up and down and scoffed at his discomfort, “Sit down. She doesn’t bite.”

Cronus sat and then looked at Mr Vantas’, with his creased brow and rumpled clothes. It would be cruel to wake him but –

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll let amma wake him up, “ Kankri said, grinning in a way Cronus had never seen – eager, childish, even – then dropping down next to Porrim, his textbook forgotten as he gazed at the doorway.

“I’m coming!” A low voice called, and then she swept into the room.

Cronus blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more striking woman. She was of middling height, but her stance radiated such poise, and her face- with its dark twinkling eyes and sharply sloped nose- was captivating. Her gaze was not penetrating like Mr Vantas’, instead she seemed to radiate a welcoming – a peace – that manifested like a physical warmth Cronus could feel.

She wore an expertly pinned black headscarf that fell down over a smart white blouse and long wide-legged trousers that were cinched in at the waist but an emerald green belt. She looked… commanding, that was it, but without ever being intimidating or scary.

Cronus almost fell off the stool as her eyes fell on him.

“So, I see abba’s been picking up more waifs and strays?” She said, and her voice was low and sweet, with an underscore of gentle laughter that wasn’t at all sarcastic or mocking.

Seeing how off-centre Cronus was, she took pity on him and introduced herself, crossing the room with three quick strides and holding out a hand to shake.

“Kai’s told me all about you, don’t worry. You can call me Diti, or amma if you like, although maybe we should get to know one another first.”

Kai-? Oh. Mr Vantas. Cronus nodded, then frowned. If her name’s Diti, “What does – “

“Amma means mum,” she said, laughing that low, delicious laugh, “And I already have three children so-”

“About that -” Kankri interjected quickly, seemingly jealous of the attention she was paying Cronus, “Did you give Meulin my present?”

Diti laughed, adjusting the drape of her headscarf. “Yes, shona, she says thank you and that you should skype her more.” Catching Cronus’ baffled look, she took pity on him and explained, “We had our eldest when we were very young – she’s all grown up and living in the ‘States now.”

Cronus just nodded helplessly.

“Wake dad up,” Porrim spoke up, “He’s been dying to see you.”

“Okay – everyone be quiet,” Diti said, laughing again softly, then approaching the armchair where Mr Vantas was snoring gently, and dropping to her knees.

“Wake up āmāra bhālabāsā,” she murmured softly as the room held its breath, “Kai darling, I’m home,” Diti shook his leg gently and Mr Vantas groaned himself awake.

“What is it, wha-?“

He froze, and then his cares seemed to melt off of his face,

“You’re back! You said you weren’t back til next week,” He cupped his wife’s face in his hands, then stood and lifted her bodily, to swing her around – his face transformed into that of a lovestruck teen as she laughed giddly –

“Kai! Stop – no!”

He collapsed back into the armchair, tumbling her onto his lap and laughing helplessly while she peppered his now radiant face with kisses.

Porrim and Kankri groaned in mock-disgust but the happiness on their faces was unmistakable.

Cronus regarded the scene with bewilderment, and a pang of - of something hit his chest.

He’d never known his mum. She’d died a little after he’d been born and his father had effectively purged her presence from the house – perhaps because the recollection of her face was too painful.

After that a few lovers had come and gone, but they were all interchangeable, all replaceable.

And then there was Spinerette, who didn’t remotely try to hide her open contempt for his father –who reciprocated her sentiments. Their relationship had been… spiky- harsh and sterile. They were each other’s stress relief. But there was no love there.

But this family…

He swallowed the thick lump pushing its way up his throat and sat back down on the stool.

After a little while Diti stood up and stretched theatrically, “Well I’m exhausted. How about we give our guest his bedroom back and get some sleep?”

Cronus flashed her a shy smile and she winked back. As they traipsed out of the room Kankri threw a “goodnight!” over his shoulder, but predictably Porrim just ignored him. Diti and Mr Vantas lingered.

“Cronus, you might remember I told you my wife was a psychologist?”

Cronus blinked. Of course. The brilliant psychologist wife.

Diti smiled gently, “I’m not about to ambush you tonight – book tours are long, exhausting journeys and I need to sleep this one off before getting back into client work anyway – but sometime soon… Well I think you and me should have a little chat.”

The offer was given softly, but beside her Mr Vantas nodded meaningfully.

College or therapy? You’ve made your choice.

It would be better than talking to the police liaison officers surely.

Cronus nodded curtly and, once they had left, threw himself down on the sofa to sleep off the day.

*

Saturday

Cronus spent his Friday preparing himself for the Saturday to come. The football was on – Tottenham Hotspur and Arsenal were going head to head again and this was a big match. Apparently. Cronus didn’t care much for sports – but he was told it was a big thing in the Vantas household – staunch Spurs supporters.

Kankri explained that Mr Vantas’ best friend - that is, his cranky secretary, Si - and his little brother, that is, Mituna – always came round to watch the footy. Which meant that he would have to come up for a really good reason why he’d beaten Mituna up the other day. And called him a div.

“Rise and shine,” Porrim sang out early on Saturday morning, strutting into the room in a thin shirt and pyjama-shorts that showed off her impressive thighs. Cronus was too tired to make a comment on this, though, and then any inappropriate thoughts he may have had were driven out of his head as she pulled open the living room curtains and stood smirking as he squirmed in the beam of Spring sunlight.

“Can’t I have a lie-in? It’s Saturday,” he growled as she flicked the telly on and plonked herself down on the armchair with a cup of tea.

“Nope,” she replied with obvious relish, “We’ve got guests coming later so we’ve gotta clean the place up. Amma’s orders. Also,” she added with a smirk, “since you don’t have college you can have a lie-in any day, right?”

“Fuck. You.” Cronus ground out, tugging his pillow over his head and moaning loudly as Porrim steadily turned up the telly until he couldn’t drown it out anymore.

“Do you really have to-?” he began, than caught a glimpse of what was on the news.

“-scenes here in Bethnal Green as local pub “the Shakespeare” has been severely burnt in a suspected arson case-”

“Aw c’mon, not the Shakespeare,” Cronus muttered, sitting up and leaning forwards intently, “you gotta give Leanne an extra day sometimes, you know that.” Porrim gave him a look.

“It was an arson case.” She said, one eyebrow arched, “Random.”

Cronus snorted. “Yes. No.”

“What -?”

Porrim was about to ask more, when the news item changed.

“Already a group of eager reporters and onlookers are crowded around the Royal Courts of Justice this morning as Detective Inspector Berrybaith opens her posthumous case against the East-End gangster Elias Ampora, known locally as the “Orphaner”, with acclaimed criminal lawyer Leiko Pyrope at the high Court.”

And there was his father. A candid shot snapped by some PI no doubt, as his father was scowling and raising a hand to block his face.

But there were those familiar features. The strong jaw, the thick brows, the huge scars tugging at his lips and eyes –

                The stain his blood left down the wall, the crumpled body once so strong and vital now little more than a ragdoll, the pieces of brain in the carpet and that huge ragged hole –

Cronus winced, then forced himself to focus on the words.

“Now the case has reached the High Court the team hope to bring forward some further key witness to take down what is left of the Orphaner’s crime ring and maybe shed some more light on the activities of other known bosses in the Greater London area.”

“I’ll turn it off-” Porrim began awkwardly, and she was reaching for the remote when the reporter added.

“One key witness Berrybaith and Pyrope hope will take the stand is the Orphaner’s son, Cronus Ampora, as they believe his testimony will be crucial to cracking the case wide open.”

There he was. His picture appearing next to the reporter on the television. A school picture from when he was about twelve. His hair a mop of black curls and his pre-brace smile crooked.

Cronus gaped.

“The Orphaner’s son is reportedly not in custody, and there’s no news yet on whether he’ll cooperate in this case, or-”

Porrim shut the telly off and Cronus blinked.

They just showed half of London my mug. “The Orphaner’s son”.

I have to help now – I bet Pyrope did that on purpose –

“I didn’t realise – shouldn’t have put the news on – stupid.” Porrim muttered, jumping up with her cuppa, clearly anxious to be away from him in case she had to deal with any emotions – so Cronus hit her with the best lecherous grin he could muster that early in the morning.

“Nice pyjamas Porrim, is it cold in here or it that just me?” He drawled and she glanced down, before scowling at him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fuck off Ampora, and get dressed. I have to hoover in here – so Si has a nice clean room to smash your face in.”

Cronus scowled and Porrim smirked. Their games of petty one-upmanship were irritating, but took the edge off their festering dislike for one another. He told himself let her have the gambit on that one and went to the little utility room behind the kitchen where most of his belonging were piled in boxes to tug out fresh clothes for the day.

He wore a black t-shirt. Just in case Si really did want to hurt him. A bloody nose would heal but his shirts were name branded and top quality, thank you very much.

Cronus laughed nervously to himself and reached for his hair gel, the image of his schoolboy curls fresh in his mind. This was going to be a difficult day.

*

With the addition of the Captors to the small living room, there was hardly room to move. Luckily, neither Kankri nor Diti had any interest in football, so after welcoming their guests they removed themselves to the kitchen to talk and cook dinner for later. Porrim said she had homework, and supported Man U anyway, slipping upstairs after giving Si a hug and saying hello to Mituna.

Cronus wished he had a room to escape to, but Mr Vantas had made it quite clear that he wanted Cronus to apologise and then to try and socialise – since he did too much brooding and couldn’t really go anywhere unchaperoned what with things as they were.

Five minutes to kick-off, Si and Mr Vantas sat on the sofa. Si had abandoned his usually prim secretary look and was lounging about in black skinny jeans and a lurid red Arsenal shirt – next to Mr Vantas in his blur Spurs shirt they looked like a reflection of Si’s stupid mis-matched tinted glasses. Mituna perched next to Si on the edge of the sofa absorbed in whatever game he was playing on his DS, and Cronus sat pariah-like on the armchair, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt nervously and wondering what the earliest time was he would be allowed to escape.

At four minutes to kick off Kankri came in to deliver beers and bowls of crisps.

At three minutes Si and Mr Vantas were arguing good naturedly about the prowess of the new Spurs manager.

At two minutes Cronus thought he was off the hook. And then Si turned to him and said:

“You know, if you were eighteen, I’d press charges.”

Cronus flinched, then recovered himself.

“It was an accident – the other day – well not an accident, really – I just-” he floundered and looked at Mr Vantas imploringly for help. Mr Vantas just gestured with his hands: keep going.

“I’m… sorry.” He said clumsily, “For fighting with Mituna. And shouting at him. I won’t do it again I was just – I’m sorry.” He finished lamely and looked at his lap. Si’s gaze burned though him like a lazer.

“You do know he’s sitting right here, don’t you?”

Cronus froze, and felt Mituna’s discomfort too, suddenly finding himself a part of the situation.

“No don’t,” Mituna whispered, nudging his brother with his shoulder and refusing to look up from the safety of his game.

“It’s important mate,” Si said, keeping his gaze fixed on Cronus, “What do you do if you do something bad?”

“You suh-say suh-sorry.” Mituna returned softly.

“That’s right.”

There was a pause.

Cronus stood up and crossed the room, then wished he hadn’t as, with Mituna perched on the sofa, there was no other way to describe his bearing than “looming”.

He shrank in on himself.

Should I kneel down? No, fuck, that’d be so patronising.

Giving up he just faced Mituna and spoke slowly, feeling shame and embarrassment burning in his chest.

“Mituna. I’m sorry I said nasty things to you the other day. And I’m sorry for hitting you. And sorry for making you upset by hitting Kurloz. I won’t do it again.”

He held out a hand and Mituna looked up from his DS tentatively.

“Go on mate,” Si said gently, and Mituna reached out and shook his hand.

“Alright, that’ll do,” Si said sternly, then sighed and handed Cronus a beer. “You better get a hold of that anger, that’s all I’m saying. If I don’t press charges, someone will.”

Cronus nodded and slunk back to his seat, snapping open his beer and sipping quietly.

Kick-off had begun and the two adults were immersed in the action, when suddenly Mr Vantas look round, something clearly nagging at him.

“I’ve just had a thought – what you said earlier, Si - When are you eighteen, Cronus?”

Cronus shrugged, “The 17^th, why?”

Si turned round at that. “It’s the 21^st.”

Cronus looked down at his beer. He was drinking legally. How bloody weird.

“Oh,” was all he could say, “I… I guess I lost track.”

At half time the score was 3 all and Si and Mr Vantas had been yelling and pounding their feet on the floor in appreciation of the apparently mammoth struggle playing out before their eyes. Mituna had joined in the cheering, but was pretty much ignoring everything except his game – and Cronus was baffled by the whole spectacle but was three beers down so he didn’t mind too much.

Mr Vantas was just stretching and saying he should go see what Diti was up to when Cronus got the phone call.

An unknown number…

Would it be Meenah?

At any rate he had a valid reason to not be left in the room with the two Captor’s – so he skipped out, waving the ringing phone in Si’s direction to validate his hasty exit.

In the hallway he answered, then almost flung the phone away in shock.

“Yo Cronus. What’s up? It’s Auntie P.” Empress.

Cronus swallowed.

“Hello Auntie P,” he managed, “How’re you?”

“Fucking great darlin’,” she drawled back, “But I’m not wastin’ valuable time talkin’ about me. This is about you. Your situation innit. Meenah ain’t too happy but Meenah’s not in charge. I’m gunna adopt you innit. You can come live with me. Heard your dad started trainin’ you up too – which is good ‘cuz you can start earnin’ your keep straight away.”

Cronus felt something twist in his guts,

“That’s… very kind of you auntie,” he said carefully, “but I’m eighteen now. I – I’m an adult, you don’t have to adopt me.”

“Oh shit you’re eighteen? How time flies,” she said breezily, “When anyway you ain’t got nowhere to live so you’re gunna come live in the City. EC1 yo. A step up from that E2 shit. Gunna get you working nighttimes at first but if you’re good imma let you climb the ranks a little quicker. Once you’re outta that legal court-house shit. Don’t need no police crawling over my business, you get me?”

“I – yeah.” Cronus said falteringly. “Thank you Auntie. You’re – you’re the best.” He whispered miserably.

Empress just gave a throaty laugh.

“I know darlin’. Somone’ll call you next week to sort out the move. Where you livin’ right now anyway? Since that upstart wrinkly bitch kicked you out of E2... Oh she gunna pay for orderin’ my family about…” Empress hissed – actually hissed in anger and Cronus shuddered.

She’s ten times worse than dad. I’ll be killing for her every night. Every fucking night.

                                                                The flower blooming in the girl’s chest –

“I’m living up Finchley way…”

“Lame. We’ll get you moved in next week don’t worry. Aiight bye then, things to do, money to collect you know how it is,” she laughed wildly again and hung up before Cronus could reply.

He looked down at his phone then wandered on wooden legs into the kitchen.

Diti and Kankri were chatting to Mr Vantas, but the second he walked in Diti knew something was wrong.

“Who was that, dear?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“My auntie.” Cronus said slowly, “Wants me to go live with her. Work for her.”

“That’s great-” Kankri began, but Diti cut him off.

“And why has that upset you?”

“She’s worse than my dad.”

Kankri shifted uncomfortably and looked back down at the textbook he had spread out on the countertop. His parents kept their gazes fixed firmly on Cronus.

“Explain.” Diti’s voice was soft, but with an undertone of iron.

Cronus opened his mouth, then shrugged. There was no use lying.

“Have you heard of the Empress?”

Mr Vantas’ bemused half-smile dropped off his face like a mask.

“Cronus – Empress – Does your aunt work for the Empress?”

His tone was so hushed and afraid that Cronus blinked, then nearly burst at laughing at the ludicrous nature of the situation.

“Mr Vantas, my auntie is the Empress.”

“What?”

Kankri looked startled at his father’s outburst and Diti patted his arm absently, not taking her eyes from Cronus.

He shrugged uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

“I.. she’s my mum’s sister – I don’t know what to tell you. We’ve never had much contact but she’s my only relation – so she’s the one the police contacted…”

Mr Vantas swallowed. Then flicked his eyes up to the kitchen clock.

“Ok. Well. You are definitely not going to live with her if I’ve got anything to say about it. But let’s talk about it after the footy. Half-time’s nearly up.”

Diti slapped his arm and he yelped in mock pain.

“Kai!”

“What?” He protested, a little shame-faced, “She’s not going to be any more his aunt in 90 minutes, is she? And do you really want to bring up the Empress around Si - particularly while he's having a great time crowing about how Arsenal are slaughtering Spurs?”

They shared a significant look and then Diti sighed.

“Fine.”

She stuck her hands back in the dough she had been working before her husband had come in, and Kankri studiously ignored Cronus – so he trailed back down the hallway after Mr Vantas, then decided against going back into the front room. Instead, he threw himself down of the stairs and huddled over his phone, willing Horuss to text him.

After a moment he became aware of someone watching him and looked up – to meet Porrim’s glare from where she was leaning over the banister.

“What?” he growled.

“You’re related to the fucking Empress as well?” she moved to the top of the stairs, standing there with her hands on her jutting hips, her short top pulling up enough to show a sliver of stomach.

“Yes!” Cronus hissed, climbing a few steps to try level the height disparity between them and wary of drawing attention from the kitchen or the living room. “Not that I chose my family! Not that I fucking decided to be related to criminals!”

“I’m just saying – I can see where you get your charming nature from – blood will out and all that.”

                Blood will out.

They weren’t her words to say.

Fury propelled Cronus up the last few stairs but before he could do anything – open his mouth or raise a hand – Porrim was grabbing him, spinning him by the shoulders and shoving him back into the wall, her lips already on his.

“Wha-?”

“Shut up.” She growled against his mouth, digging her thumbs into his hips and making him gasp.

Their fierce kisses were as clumsy as they had been that day on the field, but there was a new intensity as Porrim pushed her warm body up against him and hooked her fingers into the loops of his jeans.

“Porrim-” Mr Vantas is just downstairs- Diti’s in the kitchen – what if Kankri comes upstairs -?

She stopped him by biting his lip, hard, then kissing him again, letting them both taste the iron of his blood on her lips.

“Are you complaining?” she whispered, pushing her hands up to feel the planes of his stomach. Cronus shivered.

“No-”

“Good. Shut up. Come with me.”

She tugged him into her room and he followed helplessly, not quite sure he was caught up with the situation yet.

The second they were through the door she shut and locked it, then pushed him against the door, catching his head on the doorhooks there.

“Ow.” He hissed, but Porrim just smirked.

“Your fault. Don’t be so tall.”

As he reached up to rub his head she yanked his t-shirt off over his head, then captured his mouth again hungrily, suffering Cronus to grab her waist and arse as she slid one possessive hand up his chest.

“You taste like an ashtray you know that?” she mumbled into his mouth, and Cronus pinched his fingers into her side, making her yelp and squirm against him –

Cronus suddenly realised that the situation either had to escalate or he had to leave and take a very cold shower right now.

Porrim came to the same realisation too and took the matter into her own hands, tugging him to her bed – which took up most of the space in the cluttered room-  and shoving him down, before straddling him roughly.

“One sec-” she leaned over him to scrabble in her bedside table drawer and came back with a packet of- what-? Oh -condoms.

She slapped them on the bed next to them and yanked off her top, the sight of her red lace bra making Cronus’ eyes widen. Her cheeks were flushed and her face triumphant when she dragged him up for a kiss next. I’ve got you right where I want you, it said.

Before he could react she was already unbuttoning his jeans and reaching down inside them -

 Cronus found himself suddenly panicking.

                Holy fuck she actually wants to -

                                What do I do-?

Porrim seemed to be reading his mind because she pulled back for a moment, her face serious.

“Not a lot of time in between being a thug for this sort of thing huh?”

He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but thought that was probably ruined but the flush in his cheeks and the tent in his pants.

“Not really.”

She snorted, “It’s easy. Follow my lead.”

*

Porrim kicked Cronus out of her room the second he had his clothes back on, explaining that she had homework to do, and if it was awkward in the living room it was his own bloody fault.

Taking a second to splash water on his face and smooth his hair back Cronus slunk back into the living room, trying to not look guilty or think too hard about his… activities with Porrim in case they showed on his face.

It was hard not to daydream however, and he came back to reality only when the football was over and Si was finishing his victory dance in front of Mr Vantas - who huffed and rolled his eyes.

“5-4 take that,” Si yelled, then noticed Cronus’ carefully5 blank face. “Was that not entertaining enough for you rich-boy? Sorry we couldn’t have arranged some fox-hunting or-”

“Don’t be rude,” Mr Vantas said exasperatedly, then, more seriously, “Actually mate, do you mind making a move earlier than usual – like straight after dinner? Cronus and I have some important things to sort out?”

“How important?”

Vantas hesitated.

“Empress important.”

Si crossed his skinny arms and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re pulling my leg – just trying to distract me from how hard we just thrashed you.”

“5-4 isn’t a thrashing!” Vantas protested, then caught himself, “And I’m not kidding. Cronus is her nephew. She wants him to work for her.”

“…fuck.” Si sat down, and clasped his hands. “Fuck,”

“Yeah.”

The words “how do you know about the Empress?” pressed against Cronus’ lips, but he couldn’t bear to let them out. It would be another awful story, he knew, another awful thing he’d had to bear the weight of.

Nevertheless Si seemed to hear his unasked question and looked at him, thoughtfully.

“I used to work for her, you know. I was a hacker. London’s most fucking wanted, me. Now I do poncy admin shit for a fraction of my old salary…. But if I’d have stayed she would’ve killed me. Or made me do something a lot worse than I was already doing… Huh. Maybe I should cut you some slack.”

Si glanced back at Mituna and then back to Cronus.

“Some slack. …But if Kai hadn’t have helped me get away, got me fake papers, found me this job… seems we’re in the same boat.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Mr Vantas said softly, “Because I was hoping-”

“You want me to hack the police system? Destroy evidence of their family link? I won’t go bigger than that mate – if she finds me again I’m dead. I won’t risk my life to expose her business-”

“Not what I’m asking,” Mr Vantas said firmly. “As we’ve found out Cronus is 18 now – a legal adult, so she can’t make him do anything. Technically. I just need to make him a bit safer – hide where he’s staying for now. We’ll think of long term solutions later – but can you disable GPS and any tracking stuff on his phone… mine too actually. The fact that I got put on probation defending him at the college is probably on the staff intranet – and not particularly protected, and if her people make that link she might guess where he’s staying.”

Si nodded, his mind already racing, “Sure. I’ll also flush out mentions of you from the college website, get rid of your address and phone number – and do that on any other sites you might pop up on…”

They started talking elaborate schemes for keeping Cronus hidden, but Cronus zoned out.

If Empress wants me found I’ll be found.

I’m hardly hiding anyway – Viv could come round and kill me anytime she wants – it’s obviously she knows where I am.

The thought made him think of the hollowed remains of the Shakespeare pub, and then Sara’s threat to burn Horuss.

He shuddered.

Just as he was thinking about going to chat with Kankri and Diti – or going for a walk and thinking about Porrim’s body press up against his- to make himself feel better, his phone rang again.

Unknown number.

Meenah? Empress?

He slipped back out into the hallway and answered the call.

“Hello Cronus,” came Ms Pyrope’s mischievous voice, “How much longer do I have to wait for you to cooperate with my operation? I’m sure seen the news – don’t you look cute in your little school uniform?”

Cronus ground his teeth, “Why did you do that? You’ve made me a target.”

“Now don’t be dramatic.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “You know as well as I do that you’re already a target. But help me now and you’ll get the public on your side. Poor little lad forced into a horrible life of crime is an angle I can sell.”

In the silence that followed Redglare gave an exaggerated yawn.

“Put it this way, if my investigation turns up any dirt on you – I’m not saying it will, but if – then it will be a darn sight easier to defend you in court if you’ve cooperated. You don’t want another trip to the slammer do you Cronus? For real this time?”

His mouth was dry. Oh.

“No.”

“Excellent! Then I shall meet you bright and early tomorrow morning. My offices. Toodles.”

Chapter Text

Sunday

Cronus bought cigarettes in the tiny little offie next to East-Finchley station and listened with half a mind to the song on the radio as he waited for the old man to pull aside the screen and peer with bleary eyes at cigarette packets until he found Marlboros.

Get on my threat level and step into a nightmare

Everything the checkpoint looking for

Right here

Right hand to God I'm a god-damned citizen

Trace the fingerprint, the privilege and the pigment

Raising suspicion and a nation of snitches

Surveillance is the matrix we are trained to exist in

Gamma rays shot through the body, Non-fiction -

He shivered as he took the packet from the old man’s liver-spotted hand. The radio station wasn’t the one the lads and lasses used to send coded messages with in the East End, but the song still spoke to him – reminding him of just what he didn’t want to think about today. Being watched.

As he walked away the dreamy sing-song chorus followed him

                We're here when you need us, we're here when you call

Look out and you'll see us, looking back…

Keeping watch…

He shivered again and tapped his way through into the station, trying not to think about Empress or Viv watching him through the lenses of every security camera he passed.

Ms Pyrope’s offices weren’t quite the luxurious glass-and-steel modern digs Cronus had been expecting, considering the Temple address. Instead, he jumped off the tube at Blackfriars and wandered around with his newly GPS-less phone (thanks, Si). It was a Sunday, so Temple was slightly less full of highly strung lawyers and vulture-like paparazzi trying to get pictures of the rich and criminally stupid. Slightly. Cronus was still sure a camera flash he’d caught out of the corner of his eye was aimed at him.

Just what he needed. More media exposure – after Pyrope’s little stunt he’d have to become a hermit to avoid being plastered across newspapers and magazines the way his father was currently being.

Eventually he found tiny little Shoe Lane off of Fleet Street – and the pokey little door that announced “Leiko Pyrope: Prosecuting Lawyer, Organised Crime Division”. Below it was another plaque, in ancient clouded brass: “Veritas Vos Liberabit”. Whatever that meant.

After pressing the buzzer he was let in by an invisible hand, and he was about to climb the rickety steps to get to the office when Ms Pyrope’s voice came over the intercom, making him jump almost out of his skin:

“Well close the door then, can’t be too careful about who I let in here.”

Cronus blanched and closed the door, climbing the stairs to find himself in a tiny waiting area, replete with peeling lino floor and faded floral wallpaper.

Ms Pyrope opened her office door by about an inch and poked her head round, the flash of her red-lensed glasses making it look for just a moment as if her face were aflame.

“Sit down, make yourself comfy – there’s a kettle on the bookcase if you want a cuppa – just finishing a conversation. Skype. Family member. I’ll be with you.”

Cronus sat on the only chair in the little room that wasn’t suspiciously stained and twiddled his fingers, trying not to think about how he was going to avoid being taken to live with Auntie P. To distract himself, he sent a message to Horuss, then stared at his phone screen, willing the huge lad to text him back.

It’s 9:30am. He’ll be asleep.

                Yeah, or Viv’s fucking murdered him.

He shook that thought away, and decided on making himself a cup of tea, to give himself something to do.

He had just poured the kettle when Pyrope’s door banged open and he almost threw the boiling cuppa down himself in shock.

“Whoops! Sorry, silly me – I forget the spring on this door’s broken.” Said Pyrope, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “Or maybe I just like unsettling my clients, you decide” she added as Cronus slipped past her into her office.

Pyrope’s office was a little more like what Cronus had expected of a prominent prosecuting lawyer, with walls lined with numerous intimidating books and a modern wood-and-glass desk replete with a double-monitor mac computer. A muted flat screen television mounted on the wall was running a 24 hour news service, currently playing a re-run of the moment Cronus’ old school photo had flashed up while the newscaster pondered whether or not he’d cooperate.

“Pretty swish, don’tcha think?” Pyrope grinned as she took a seat.

Cronus nodded mutely, intensely aware of the small blinking light that indicated a camera just above and behind her desk.

Pyrope followed his gaze and shrugged.

“It’s for safety purposes, forget about it.”

                Look out and you'll see us

                Looking back…

Keeping watch…

Cronus shivered. Whatever he said in this room was set in stone.

Pyrope let him fidget and take tiny sips of still-scalding tea while she shuffled some notes. After a moment though she leant back in her chair and regarded him through her red-tinted lenses.

“So. Cronus. Here’s the thing. My case against your father is already at the high court – so we have a lot of evidence already in the bag - a lot of sentences pending. What we need you for is to verify some testimonies, to verify some identities, and most importantly give a run-down of the night your father was murdered – as we’re currently assuming in-fighting but you’re the only witness.”

Cronus glanced up at the camera again, then put his cup down on the desk before his hands started to shake too bad.

“You don’t… know… what happened?”

Pyrope’s glance was at once sympathetic and hungry.

“Forensics put together what they could, but you are the only eye-witness to his murder. We know someone’s taken over your father’s territory. If you could tell us what happened that night, we could put them away – you’d get justice for your father’s murder and we’d close down the E2 territory. Win-win.”

“That’s not –“ Cronus swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “That’s not exactly what happened…”

How the fuck do I explain without implicating Serket – without mentioning fucking Makara? If I testify against them so many people will want we dead I won’t live to make it home from the court house.

Pyrope seemed to sense his imminent panic.

“Look, Cronus,” she said frankly, removing her glasses and looking at him with dark eyes. “I understand that there are things you’re not going to want to say to me. And I understand there are names you are not going to want to drop. But I’ve been working too long on this case to just let it drop because one teenager feels uncomfortable.”

“It’s not-” Cronus began, but she raised her voice over him, the glare she was so famous for turned upon him in full force.

“Don’t make me turn this case against you. I have a recent testimony that will either get you sent to prison, or have a murderous gang come down on you like a wave. I don’t think it’s fair to use this against you given your age and circumstances, but I will if you don’t give me the information I need to close this case. Justice must be done.”

The fervour in her eyes was intimidating. Cronus hunched in on himself, defeated.

“What do you need to know?”

***

Pyrope’s glasses had flashed red at him every time she turned her head to make a note on her computer, and he had spent most of the interview trying to force down the image of the red flower blooming in the girl’s chest.

She knows. She’ll make me tell her. I’ll go to prison. I deserve to go to prison.

His thoughts had spun in his head, making him feel nauseous, but Pyrope had kept on and on – asking quiet questions, or just staring at him in silence until words had bubbled out of him to fill the void. With every word he felt himself hammering a nail into his own coffin, and by the time Pyrope was done with him, Cronus could feel fear prickling in his veins like ants were crawling beneath his skin. He’d managed to avoid talking about Makara and Spinerette by their names, but he’d spoken of at least thirty lads and lasses, Viv included.

As he mumbled goodbye to Pyrope and tripped down the stairs, Sara’s warning - you ain’t to testify - kept ringing in his ears.

Just as he went to close the door behind him, Pyrope’s voice came crackling out of the intercom box, causing another lightning-bolt jolt of fear to spike through Cronus’ stomach.

“That was a good start Cronus. I know this is scary but veritas vos liberabit. I’ll call you for the next meeting soon – sooner if we get a court date through.”

Cronus made his way back to East Finchley while expecting to be knifed any second but any number of passers-by. He felt like his skin was sewn on too tight. Like a million eyes were upon him at any one second.

Look back and you’ll see us…

He shook his head and determined to just have a nap when he got in – to stop his thoughts from overloading his brain -

But when he got in Porrim was in the living room, eating a Pot Noodle and idly flipping through a French textbook as some music channel played in the background.

“What are you doing here?” Cronus blurted out, before he could bite the words back.

Porrim looked him up and down, then snorted.

“Well I actually live here – unlike you.”

“No I mean – wait what time is it?” Cronus tugged his phone out of his pocket and blinked at the screen. Four o clock? Okay the journey to and from Temple was no picnic – but how had he spent five hours with Pyrope? Unless he’d lost time…

“What happened today?” Porrim snapped her fingers to jolt him out of the reverie, “Did you see a ghost? You look like shit.”

Cronus scowled and threw himself down on the sofa.

“Meeting with the lawyer prosecuting my dad. M’tired. Can you turn that shit down?”

Porrim made direct eye contact with him while turning the television up a few more notches, then grinned wickedly when he flicked her the V sign.

“I’ll turn it off if you explain something to me,” she said through a mouthful of noodles.

Cronus didn’t bother to respond, just cocked an eyebrow.

“Well if this lawyer’s prosecuting your dad – or his operation, or people or whatever – isn’t she also prosecuting you? Shouldn’t you have a defence lawyer?”

“I’m not on trial. I’m a witness.” Cronus said quickly. Which will last just as long as she doesn’t have official proof that I was a part of the gang... “Co-operating with her will look good if… if anything came out or…”

“Which it will, surely?” Porrim frowned, voicing his fear, “Cronus I don’t know the extent – but you did… work for your dad a bit didn’t you?”

“I… yeah.” Cronus suddenly remembered Pyrope mentioning her key witness with dirt on him. Don’t make me turn this case against you. He swallowed.

Porrim put her pot noodle down and switched off the TV – coming over to sit facing Cronus from the other end of the sofa. She fiddled idly with a twist of hair, then sighed.

“It sounds like this woman is exploiting you, if I’m honest. You need to get a defence lawyer.”

Cronus blinked at her. “I…how…? I don’t know how this works really.” Cronus admitted, ducking his head and pretending to find the state of his nails fascinating so he wouldn’t have to meet her eye.

This isn’t the side of the law I’m used to dealing with.

“Yeah. And I think this lawyer knows this too. …I’ll talk to dad tonight.” She said firmly. Cronus hated feeling like a helpless child, but if he was being honest with himself, in this situation…

“…Thanks.”

That’s exactly what he was.

There was an uneasy pause, but when Cronus looked up, Porrim was looking at him curiously and sucking gently at the piercings in the corner of her lip.

“What?”

“Dad and amma took Kanny out to the pictures. They won’t be home til at least eight.”

“So?”

Porrim crawled across the sofa with catlike grace and caught his lower lip between her teeth, rolling her body expertly against his and forcing him back onto his elbows.

“What do you think I’m getting at, numbnuts?”

***

Later Cronus fidgeted uncomfortably as Porrim explained the legal situation to Mr Vantas, then listened in to the call he made – put on speakerphone at Porrim’s demand – to Pyrope.

“I understand your concerns, but I have Cronus’ best interests at heart.” Pyrope’s tone had been breezy, but Mr Vantas was insistent. “He’d be in danger anyway after the trial – but with his testimony we can get most if not all of the dangerous people put away-”

Cronus had tried not to snort. There’d always be dangerous people.

“And he’d be entitled to witness protection. He’s a legal adult now – and he’s agreed to give his statement – once we’ve worked through exactly what that statement is… But if it would make you feel better, I’ll get my associate to act as his defence lawyer should the need arise.”

After a few more minutes questioning and allaying fears Mr Vantas hung up, then grimaced at Cronus.

“That’s as good as we’re going to get for now Cronus – maybe I should come along to your next meeting with Ms Pyrope..?”

“No.” Cronus shot back quickly, then added a belated, “Thank you,” as Porrim kicked him in the shin under the table. Mr Vantas knew too much about him already. And of course, the more Vantas knew about his father’s operation, the more of a target he and his family were.

“Okay, well, dinner’s in an hour.” He said, reaching across to ruffle Cronus’ hair almost absent-mindedly before going back to stir the curry he was making.

Porrim caught his shocked look, though, and for once didn’t snort, just looked at him with a half-frown creasing her brow for a moment, then swept out of the kitchen.

Cronus went out for a cigarette, and called Horuss on the off-chance he wasn’t at work. In fact, Horuss picked up after two rings, with an exuberant “Cronus!” and Cronus couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face.

“Hey chief, how’s things? No work today?”

“Dad decided it would be safer if I stayed out of the garage on the weekends for now. Apparently the crime rate spikes Friday to Sunday. …Wish he’d decided that yesterday, actually, I could’ve had a few more hours sleep.” He grumbled good naturedly, but Cronus bit his lip remembering the severity of Sara’s threat. “Oh – and I got your message earlier - meant to reply but… well I assume you’ve seen the news?”

Cronus froze.

“No – what? Is everything okay?”

Horuss laughed again softly, “Yes - I’m fine, no one’s touched the garage or anything, don’t worry – but your father’s old gang are seriously making themselves conspicuous."

“What’s happened?” Cronus took a long drag on his cigarette to prepare himself for whatever it is.

“Three people were murdered earlier – in broad day light. Just on Bethnal Green High Street. Apparently they had notes pinned to them but the police covered it up really quickly. Everyone knows it’s mob related though.”

Cronus gaped. In broad daylight. That’s not how it was supposed to go down – you kept your business away from the civilians. You put on an amicable façade. The people had to trust you to protect them against other gangsters. They had to have respect – not just blind fear…

“Cronus? Cronus are you there?” Horuss’ voice sounded tinny and far away for a moment, then Crnous pulled himself back together.

“I – uh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just….” He kicked the garden wall in frustration, then regretted it as stabbing foot pain got added to the already pressing anger issue. “This isn’t how it should be done.”

“You think there’s a way mob business should be done?” Horuss shot back, a strange sharpness to his voice.

Of course. He wasn’t born into this like you were. And the last gangsters he met broke his arm.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.” Cronus mumbled, the other emotions draining away, “It’s just – it’s not the way dad did things…”

“Mm.” Horuss grunted in a non-committal way – but before Cronus could get too worked up about upsetting his friend, Horuss spoke up again.

“Anyway, look, sorry for bringing up such horrible news – would you like me to come round to visit tomorrow? I know you can’t come to mine – but I, uh, miss you. Enough to skip a lecture which you should know is a very big honour.”

Cronus smiled to himself as he stubbed out his cigarette.

“Yeah that’d be great, actually – and you’re a genius, ain’t you? You can catch up. ... Miss you too.”

***

The curry at dinner was great, and the kitchen table was big enough so he didn’t feel like an intruder there. Diti and Mr Vantas sat at either end with Porrim and Kankri sat opposite him. The spare seat next to him was set “in case of a visitor” and a huge dribbly candle in the middle of the table added a warm homely feel to the setting.

Nevertheless Cronus couldn’t stop thinking about the three bodies lying on Bethnal Green High Street.

Were they lads and lasses? Spinny’s informants? Shopkeeps that hadn’t paid up in time? How had they been killed? How had the murderers gotten away amidst the crush of people and the market stalls?

“You don’t eat much, do you Cronus?”

Cronus looked up to find Kankri looking at him critically across the table.

“Kankri, shona, don’t be rude.” Diti said softly, reaching over to gently tweak his ear. “Focus on your own dinner.”

“I’m just pointing out a fact,” Kankri grumbled, “We’ve all nearly finished and he’s eaten, like, two grains of rice.”

“None of your business Kankri.” Mr Vantas said through a mouthful of curry, and pointing at his son with a spoon. He swallowed and looked over at Cronus sheepishly. “You take your time Cronus.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Cronus looked down at his plate. He’d actually been about to leave the table. Now he had to eat more. And the thought of Viv in E2 and the bodies in the street and

                The blond lass in the kitchen with her poor head all caved in –

The nausea that followed him everywhere reared its head and Cronus played for time by pushing curry and rice around the plate.

“You know, if you don’t eat enough your body can go into “starvation mode” and-”

Porrim reached over and slapped a hand over Kankri’s mouth.

“Kanny are you talking for the good of Cronus’ health or because you wanna tell us what you learned in college recently?”

Kankri made an outraged “mmmph” noise, and then Porrim yelled as he bit her hand.

“Enough!” Mr Vantas cried. “Enough, dinner’s over, go to your rooms for the love of god!”

Porrim laughed and strutted out the room and Diti coaxed Mr Vantas into the livingroom, leaving the plates and detritus of dinner on the table for later. Kankri lingered though, looking back at Cronus from the doorway.

“What?” he asked with a sigh.

Just leave me alone.

“I just. Sorry. I didn’t mean to – I just mean.” Kankri twisted his hands in his jumper, a little flustered. “You should look after yourself. That’s all. You smoke so much… It’s. Not good for you.”

Cronus gaped. Why the fuck did Kankri care about his health of all things?

“Sorry.” Kankri said again softly, “Porrim says I’ve got about as much tact as a brick. But, uh, yeah. You should try to look after yourself more. If you can.”

Cronus was left staring after him. First Mr Vantas ruffling his hair and now this utter bullshit.

It made him feel like a balloon was being inflated in his chest, although he didn’t understand why.

***

The week passed slowly with nothing but news of the impending mob-boss trial and the chaos in the East End updating almost hourly on the telly.

He managed to avoid proper therapy with Diti as she was busy catching up on work after taking time out for her book tour – but she still made him tell her how his day had been everyday, to the point where he started studying and reading books purely so he didn’t have to reply “watched telly, smoked, had a nap” when she asked him what he’d done.

Horuss came round on Monday – and Wednesday and Thursday too. He got on well with Kankri since they could play chess at the same time as chat with Cronus (who wouldn’t know what to do with a chess board, apart from maybe bash someone in the head with it) and he knew a lot about politics and current events, so they got into animated debates that made Cronus’ head swim.

Still, he liked hearing their excited chatter – and delighted in throwing out spurious ideas and comments just to watch their reactions.

“The problem is primarily a financial one, as ever. By cutting the NHS’s budget so harshly – and passing off these budget cuts as legitimate, Hunt is creating a situation in which the NHS is failing – and he can then turn around and ask why we should support a failing system-”

“But can you call it primarily financial? Surely it’s political classism at its roots – as the Tories are re-cementing the class system by putting pressure on institutions which help the less wealthy – and which will hardly affect the wealthy as they have other support systems. It’s not just the NHS, but the benefit cuts and-”

                “But classism stems from wealth – ergo financial-”

“Yeah maybe we should just kill Jeremy Hunt.” Cronus had said loudly at this point. The look of horror on Kankri and Horuss’ faces had been priceless.

“…Cronus…” Kankri had said slowly, “you do realise Hunt isn’t a dictator, right- he’s not even the PM! And his measures would still stand if- ”

“It’s like the heads of a hydra,” Horuss had said, grinning once he realised what Cornus was playing at, “kill one Tory and another two appear to take its place-”

Porrim didn’t seem to get with Horuss as well. It wasn’t that she disliked him, since he was the model of decorum and was almost unbearably polite around her - but she could never seem to keep a coy half-smile off her face whenever he came round.

“What’s your problem with him?” He’d snarled on Monday after Porrim had been wry and stand-offish all evening.

“I’m not the one with the problem,” she’d said in reply, “You’ll figure it out.” She threw over her shoulder, leaving Cronus muttering to himself furiously.

He didn’t think he could stand it if Porrim made fun of Horuss, but if it made her happy to play her stupid little head-game with Cronus, then fine.

Ultimately Cronus got the idea that Horuss didn’t feel comfortable in Bethnal Green while gun crime and arson soared and Viv sent messengers round the mechanics shop nightly.

“They’ve given us an ultimatum.” Horuss had confessed quietly on Thursday night, when Kankri had popped out of the room to make more tea in the middle of a debate on the positives and negatives of abolishing the Shengen zone. Whatever the hell that was.

“Which is..?

“We pay up half our yearly intake before the first of March or they – they-”

“Kill you all.” Cronus finished softly.

Horuss shivered, hugging his huge arms round himself and ducking his head miserably.

“Dad says we’ll go to the police – that we should have done that straight away.”

“They have people in the police – they’d have killed you.”

“Well that’s why we didn’t the first time – but – but extorsion’s a crime so-”

“Yeah so’s murder. That don’t stop them mate.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth – Horuss flinching in on himself wasn’t a sight he’d forget easily.

“Look, chief,” he said gently, “you probably don’t have to pay the whole thing – Viv’s just blowing it out of proportion because you won’t cooperate. Just get your dad to talk to her – negotiate. She might be reasonable…”

Cronus only half believed that himself, but they couldn’t talk more as Kankri had returned with tea and a pack of jammy Dodgers on a tray, already rattling off his counterargument.

Saturday

On Saturday Cronus was woken up early but Diti and Mr Vantas crashing around the kitchen as they looked for their grocery bags.

“We’re going to the big Tesco – be back in a few hours.” Mr Vantas explained as he emerged from the cupboard under the sink with armfuls of reusable “Bag for Life”s. Cronus just blinked blearily at him and Diti laughed.

“Sorry we woke you up-go back to sleep.”

But he was awake now, which meant all the usual thoughts and stress that plagued him during the days had started up again. Instead, Cronus got himself a glass of water and drank it slowly at the sink, listening to the sound of the Vantas’ little car pulling out of the drive.

As he stumbled back to the living room, Porrim reached out from the bannisters of the stairs and grabbed him.

“You want to go back to that lumpy old sofa, or come up to my bed?”

Cronus barely got his answer out before he was being dragged up the stairs by the front of his tshirt.

“What if we wake Kankri up?” he hissed as Porrim shut the door behind them and pushed him down onto her bed.

“We’ll be quiet.” She said with a shrug, climbing over him lightly and running firm hands up and down his sides, before tugging the tshirt over his head.

“Why do I have to be more naked than you?” he grumbled as she got to work pulling off his trackie bottoms – pausing to mouth lightly over his crotch and making him gasp.

“My bedroom, my rules.” Porrim said with a shrug. Her nightie was short and covered her in the most enticing of ways. She leant in over him to kiss and bite at his neck. “So what’s eating you up? I can see your brain ticking from here.”

“None of your business,” Cronus hissed, groaning softly as she straddled and pushed herself down on him.

“I got you a defence lawyer, so in a way it is my business,” Porrim hissed back, rolling her hips and sighing in pleasure.

“Yeah jog on,” Cronus threw back, losing any ability of repartee as their rhythm came together.

“If you did something awful for you dad you should admit it to Pyrope straight away, get it off your chest.” Porrim gasped as they sped up, frustrations building into a furious rhythm.

“Oh yeah, genius, tell them everything I’ve done so they can just throw me in prison – wonderful.” Cronus spat out, as parts of his brain began to overload.

“I knew it – I knew you were in deep – it’s going to come out sooner or later.”

“Why are you so obsessed with confessing?”

“Because your father never did. He fucking laughed on the stand. Denied everything. You want to be like him or you want to have a fucking soul?”

“Fuh –fuck you.”

Porrim’s suggestion that they be quiet went out the window as their movements became urgent -any talk became lost in panting breath and the sound of skin of skin –

- When they lay, sleepy and sweat-slick, entwined in Porrim’s sheets, Kankri banged on the wall.

“I hate you both – don’t ever make me wake up to that again!”

Porrim turned her head and caught Cronus’s eye - and neither of them could stop the spontaneous bubble of laughter that rocked them both.

“Oh – ow my stomach muscles-” Porrim gasped, the exclamation only redoubling their laughter.

Kankri pounded on the wall again.

“Shut up!”

“Love you Kanny.” Porrim called, slapping Cronus to stop his laughter as she barely controlled her own.

“Argh!”

***

Just as Cronus was pulling his pants back on - and Porrim had begun scrolling through her phone and kicking him to make him get out of her room faster - his phone rang.

An unknown number. Brilliant. Who would it be this time?

“Give me a fucking second!” He growled as Porrim’s foot almost toppled him as he dragged his tshirt over his head.

“Take that outside,” she said in reply, throwing his trackie bottoms after him as he slunk out the door, “I wanna go back to sleep.”

He stumbled out of the room and snapped a curt hello into the phone as he started walking back downstairs.

He half-wished it could be a phone scam or a charity caller, but no luck.

“Is that any way to talk to your auntie, Cronus?”

Empress.

And I was having such a good morning…

“Sorry auntie P, I thought you were… uh, someone else.” He said quietly, sinking down to sit half way down the stairs.

Empress cackled, “Yeah, spose it don’t help that I can’t have any of that caller ID shit poppin’ up innit. I’ll let you off darlin’. Anyway you should know that I’ve sent a few feelers into E2. The shit that’s going down is crazy! That bitch Viv is killin’ off her gang quicker than she can recruit ‘em. A lot of your dad’s old faithful lot are gone cos they objected to her taking over. Just blam. That’s no way to control people issit?”

“...No.” It was what he’d suspected from what Horuss had said. Didn’t make the news any more palatable.

Shit I hope Mikey’s okay.

“No. Exactly.” Empress continued in a drawl. “I could just let her run herself into the ground, but I can’t stand to lose the East End racket your dad built up for so many years. It’s a bangin’ patch. Also there’s a chance she’ll get a hold on things and I don’t fancy another war like with the Medigo lot in China Town, you get me? Absolute fucking mayhem that was…”

Empress seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Or she’s checking up on business on another phone. Auntie P doesn’t stand still. That’s why she’s the Empress…

“Um. Was there anything else?” Cronus asked tentatively, willing the conversation to end before she mentioned moving in with her and Meenah.

“Oh yeah, well nearer the time we’ll bring you in for a strategy meeting innit - but we’ll be using you as the liaison with Serket. My informants say you had a decent relationship with her… well, I mean, she didn’t kill you when you when awol on her patch. Which was fuckin’ stupid by the way.”

“Uh yeah.” Cronus stammered, wishing he could have prepared for the conversation a little more. “She, uh, likes me, I think. A bit.”

“Well whatever darlin’,” Empress continued breezily, “we’re gunna make our move after the trial – cos with any luck a lot of her gang will go down. Doubt she’ll be bovvered as she’ll just get a load of ‘em to take the fall for her on pain of death or somethin’. That’s what I’d do. But it might thin the ranks a bit… When is the trial anyway?”

“The date hasn’t been set yet. But soon I think.” Crnous was suddenly painfully aware of movement from Kankri’s room.

Don’t come out now – don’t listen to this, please Kankri-

“Good. We need to get her out the way. For now I’ll work on softenin’ Serket. She needs to know that if I give her this patch she works for me. No move rogue pirate bullshit. Hey - maybe you could work on getting’ back in contact with some of your old muckers in yer dad’s gang. Carefully, obviously. But it’d be good to have some insiders on our side, too, when the time comes…. Although Makara had promised me a lot of his clowns too, so it’s not like we’ll be short-handed when it comes to driving her out…”

Cronus froze.

“Makara? But he… he killed dad.”

Empress gave a dismissive snort.

“Ain’t done nuffin’ wrong in my books darlin’. Was protecting his peeps. I can’t fault that – yer dad shoulda known better.”

’Dis is an important lesson.

 Cronus tensed for the flashback but it still bent him double when it hit –

the deafening crack; his father’s body slamming backwards into the wall; his glazed eyes still staring out at him as bits of brain trickled into the carpet –

“Cronus?” Empress’ voice was exasperated. “Oi you still there? Look don’t get your knickers in a twist. Makara’s on our side. Good bloke. Gets shit done.”

Your face.

That awful laugh.

You should see your face.

“Don’t you want to get back at the woman who fucking evicted you from your home?” She continued, her tone suddenly vehement, “Actually set foot in Bethnal Green again?”

Cronus thought of Horuss then, of the noisy, greasy mechanics shop and the scent of oil and soap and sweat as strong arms wrapped round him –

“Yes.” He croaked.

“Good.” She sighed again and Cronus almost believed that would be the end of the conversation, but – “By the way as soon as everythin’s done with the lawyers and bobbys we can get you moved in here. Meenah ain’t happy about it but she’ll come round. Or I’ll confiscate her phone until she comes round. That’s the one thing that always works.” She cackled again and Cronus took a few deep breaths to get himself sorted again, fidgeting on the steps

“Uh… okay. Thanks.”

“Good lad. I’ll be in touch soon. Good luck with the trial and everthin’. I’d get involved, but me and the legal system don’t exactly mix, you get me? Catcha later.”

“Bye.” He mumbled, staring numbly at his phone screen for a minute while his brain worked.

 First thing to deal with is the trial. Then the raid. Then try to find a way to make Empress forget about moving me in or having me involved in her operation…. Right. Yeah. Simple.

A small cough from behind him made him whirl round, but it was only Kankri.

“Look, Cronus,” he said as he stepped around where Cronus was hunched on the stairs, “I’m sorry I said hate a minute ago. That’s a strong word and it shouldn’t be thrown around lightly. …But… but… c’mon.”

Cronus had to smile at the exasperation in Kankri’s tone.

“Sorry chief, won’t happen again.”

Kankri paused and nodded, a prim little martyr expression on his face.

“Well then. That’s alright. Tea?”

 “Tea.”  

As Cronus followed Kankri into the kitchen he realised why interactions with Mr Vantas and Kankri had been making him feel so strange.

They’re more my family than my own fucking family ever was… They… give a shit.

The balloon in his chest swelled again.

***

Monday

Sunday was gloriously boring, the whole day passing without a report of any more violent crime in the East End, and Cronus didn’t even have a flashback or any time loss.

In the evening however, Pyrope called and demanded he come in first thing Monday, and by 9:30am Monday morning Cronus was fidgeting uncomfortably before Pyrope’s red-tinted gaze.

“Alright, I’ve had time to think and sort out my other evidence and witnesses. This is how we’re going to do this.” She said, slurping a cup of milky tea and munching on a bacon sarnie, “You’re going to give me the spiel for your defence, and I’ll record it and send it over to my associate. Once that’s out the way – and you tell can that nice Mr Vantas we’ve done this, and there’s measures in place to keep you safe after your testimony – we’ll get down to the nitty gritty. I need to know what you’ve done for your father as it will further implicate him, his associates – and frankly it’s going to come out anyway thanks to my new witness so you’re better off admitting it yourself. Any objections?”

Cronus looked away. Her masticating was making him feel sick, and his empty stomach was roiling with a mixture of fear and nausea.

“No. That’s fine.” He muttered.

“Excellent.” She grinned widely and slapped a mini-microphone down between them on her desk, and clicked record.

“Pyralwski, the following recording is from Cronus Ampora, son of Elias Ampora, who will be one of my two key witnesses in the High Court case vs Ampora and associates. As discussed you may be called to defend Cronus so listen up.”

She paused and nodded seriously at Cronus. He nodded back and gripped hard into the fabric of his jeans.

“Cronus, how old were you when you first understood your father was involved with criminal activity.”

“Um… maybe 9? 10?”

“Okay, and when were you called upon to partake in this activity yourself?”

“First when I was about 15, and then again when I was 17. Several times.”

Okay this isn’t so hard.

“And how was your relationship with your father.”

Fuck.

“Not… great.”

Pyrope made a give me more gesture with her hands and he returned a gesture he hoped conveyed: what do you want me to say?

“Did he ever neglect you – were you without food or company or shelter for long periods of time?”

“No.” Cronus said confidently, then frowned, “Well, um, sometimes I couldn’t stay in the house so I had to walk around at night. But he looked after me other than that.”

“Did he ever verbally or physically abuse you?”

“He-“

                WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

“He shouted, um, a lot. And he hit me sometimes. But, um, nothing major.”

Pyrope rolled her eyes and paused the recording.

“You don’t need to defend his actions Cronus. We have him on verbal, physical and neglectful abuse. And for the record hitting and screaming at your son counts as major. Shall we continue?”

She clicked the mic back on, and Cronus dug his nails in harder to his thighs.

“How about his associates? The so called “lads and lasses”? Did you have a lot of friends among them? Did they make you a part of the group, lead you astray that sort of thing?”

“Um… no. They were… I was always scared of them, actually. There was this one guy, Mikey-”

The corner of Pyrope’s mouth twitched down, just for a second, but Cronus saw, and the question came out before he could stop it.

“Do you know what happened to him? Is he okay? The last I knew my dad was mad at him for botching a –a task-”

“Nevermind about Mikey.” Pyrope said, a little too sharply, then reassumed her calm, but firm, questioning voice. “So you were scared of the lads and lasses. Why? Were they just intimidating? Did they hurt you?”

Cronus fell the tremors start in his hands.

“Cronus?”

“Well… well… this one time….”

“Yes?”

The staring – why does she have to look at me like that -?

                Just get it out quickly.

“I was suspended – from college – in early January. Just for three days. But dad had said – he said that if I got suspended again he’d set the lads and lasses on me. And he doesn’t – he didn’t go back on his word. Ever.”

Cronus paused. His throat had dried up. Don’t make me remember this.

Pyrope didn’t say anything, just drummed her fingers on the desktop.

Da-da-da-DUM, da-da-da-DUM

“Dad went out.” He started, his tongue crackling in his dry mouth. “I don’t know where. But a big group of the lads and lasses were home. At my home. And I was in my bedroom, just listening to music, um, I think, and they came in and pulled me out – threw me down the stairs, lots of them just like punching and kicking an’ that.”

His words were speeding up –

the quicker I say it the quicker it’s done.

“How bad were your injuries after that?” Pyrope said quietly, her fingers ceasing their drumming.

“I don’t know because – well I mean I was concussed, some ribs were broken, my eye socket was cracked, nose was broken, loads of bruises and cuts – but that might have been the fall.”

“The fall? Down the stairs?”

“No.”

                Nearly there. C’mon.

 “… After that, some of them took me – in a car. Said they were taking me to dad to show him they’d done what… what he asked them to do. But they stopped on a bridge over the Thames – might’ve been Lambeth or – or Vauxhall I don’t know. It was dark, I was concussed – I’d know it when I saw it but I don’t – I don’t go across the river any more-”

“Cronus. Stay on topic. On the bridge, what happened?” Pyrope’s voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes burned into him from behind their firey lenses.

“They said-”

                how do you like that kiddo?

His fingernails were almost drawing blood through his jeans.

                Hold his legs – hold his legs tighter-

 “Dad had told them to toughen me up.” He forced the words out, trying to drown out the memories and ignore the lurch of falling in his stomach. “I fought back. I – I was in a lot of pain but I fought back – but there were too many of them-”

 “They threw you into the Thames?” Pyrope stared at him incredulously. “But you could have died.”

“I don’t think they were supposed to actually drop me. It was an accident.” Cronus mumbled, trying to force down then memory of Kurloz hissing -

maybe Dualscar sees weakness and filth like I do when look at you. Maybe you weren’t supposed to survive that little accident.

“How long were you in hospital?”

“Just a few days.” Cronus loosened his grip on his jeans and took a calming breath. “Dad didn’t want college getting suspicious. Said I had a throat infection – which worked because my throat was so sore after the got the water out of my lungs – got one of the lasses to cover up the worst of the bruises with makeup. Said to tell people I got my nose broken in a fight…”

Cronus trailed off. There was a long silence, then Pyrope clicked off the microphone.

“Thank you, Cronus. That’s plenty for the defence. A case for child abuse and coercion is basically rock solid. Let’s have a tea-break then move on to your involvement.”

Fear was suddenly replaced by guilt and the lurching in his stomach dissipated to be replaced by a sinking hollowness.

Oh good.

***

Cronus said as much as he dared – even admitting to being the one who smashed TJs knee-caps, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the dead girl with the purple lips.

Pyrope had picked up on his reticence – thanking him for his cooperation so far, but leaving him with a stern word.

“Cronus, may I remind you that this is a federal fucking issue. Whatever shit it is that’s you’re working through, work through it faster. I need the truth and nothing but the whole fucking truth or you won’t be protected against anything else that comes out in court. They’re deciding the court date this week so you have until Friday to work up the nerve and get that last little thing off your chest.”

Off his chest…

                The girl, the blood oozing up from the wound in her chest steaming in the cold air, her purple lips parted in shock –

                Trace the fingerprint

The privilege and the pigment

Raising suspicion and a nation of snitches

Surveillance is the matrix

We are trained to exist in

Gamma rays shot through the body, Non-fiction-

Pyrope knew. As he walked on unsteady legs away from her office he was suddenly certain –she knew… Maybe it was her other witness. Maybe he’d been caught on fucking camera – or, or they had a match with his DNA, or –

His phone rang and he nearly flung it from his hand in shock.

An unknown number.

Not now.

He rejected the call, but the caller rang again before he could light the cigarette he’d slid between his lips.

He moved to hang up again – but what if it was Empress? You don’t ignore the Empress…

“What?” he said, more tremulously than he would have liked.

“Hello? Is this Cronus?”

Cronus blinked. Had he finally got lucky – was it just going to be someone asking him to donate to the RSPCA or something?

“Yeah. Who is it?” The voice was deep and gravelly… why did he recognise it?

“Hello Cronus, it’s Horuss’ dad – we met that weekend you stayed over.” Oh.

“Yeah of course – can – can I help with something?” He asked, putting on as polite a tone as he could manage.

“No its-” Mr Zahak hesitated, and coughed uneasily.  “I thought I’d just better let you know, what with you and Horuss being such good friends. Uh.”

The man’s deep voice was hoarse and cracked on his sons’ name. Cronus felt his stomach sink like lead.

Don’t say it.

Not now, not today

“Can you come to the hospital? There was… an incident.”

No no no no no –

Horuss’ tremulous voice spoke in his mind unbidden - ‘we’ll pour petrol over you and set you on fire’ was her exact phrasing.

Cronus dropped his cigarette and stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the dirty looks of busy passers-by.

“Is he going to be okay? Mr Zahak? Please - is he going to be okay?”

Chapter Text

Tuesday

Horuss had been taken to the Royal London Hospital, which was just far enough outside of Bethnal Green that Viv shouldn’t be mad at Cronus for entering. Just. Although with Viv’s track record there was no saying what she would do.

When he gave Horuss’ name at the reception desk Cronus was ushered up a flight of stairs and along a series of long, twisting corridors until he reached a dingy ward of patients admitted from A&E. The unmistakable Mr Zahak cut a huge, hulking figure against the far wall, hunched as he was over a cup of coffee next to a bed at the far end of the ward. Cronus could only assume the heavily bandaged figure in the bed beside him was Horuss.

He muttered his thanks to the orderly, who was already striding away on plimsolled feet to deal with the next patient, and approached Mr Zahak attentively, not looking too closely at the figure in the bed.

“Mr Zahak?” he said quietly when he reached the man, then repeated himself once more as Mr Zahak continued staring vacantly at the floor.

Zahak looked up with a start, “Oh! Cronus. My apologies.” He said gruffly, holding out a huge hand for Cronus to shake. “Please, take a seat. Horuss is not awake at the moment. …Which is probably a good thing.”

Mr Zahak scooped up the collection of food wrappers and coffee cups from the seat next to him and pushed them into a Tesco carrier bag at his feet.

“What happened?” Cronus asked as he lowered himself onto the cheap plastic seat, still not able to look properly at Horuss in the bed.

“Arson attack. Gutted the shop.” Zahak sighed, scrubbing at his face, “Horuss made sure Matt and Layla got out okay – but they think someone was there – held him down. He… won’t say.” Zahak caught sighed of Cronus’ horrified expression and hurried on. “It could have been much worse but his overalls and gloves protected him a lot. As it is he has got second degree burns across most of his torso and legs. And third degree burns up the side of his neck and scalp.”

“But he’ll be okay, won’t he?” Cronus asked, a little dazed. Whether or not it could’ve been worse it still sounded fucking awful.

Mr Zahak dipped his head.

“Eventually.”

Cronus swallowed. “I- I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Mr Zahak rumbled, his arm twitching like he wanted to reach out to Cronus. “Your father… Horuss doesn’t know – but we had an agreement. Our shop – we do valuable work for the community and your father respected that. Never asked for money, never forced me to flip stolen cars or give discounts or anything like that. He was a… well if not a good man, certainly an honourable one. He had principles and I can… respect that. Even if I cannot support organised crime.”

Cronus stared at Zahak’s broad, honest face.

“…I didn’t know.”

Zahak lips twitched.

“Your father was always discreet. Not like this – this woman, Viv.” Here Mr Zahak looked over at his son. “I should have – I didn’t realise how serious her threats were – I should have at least agreed to talk-”

“It’s not your fault.” Cronus mumbled.

                It’s my fault. I should have talked to you directly – I could see Horuss wouldn’t persuade you.

The conversation petered out and the two sat in an awkward, burning silence.

                I should have bought flowers or – or – bought him a coffee or something. He looks exhausted.

Cronus was just about to offer to go buy the older man a hot drink or some food – anything to escape the horrible atmosphere compounded by Horuss’ inert body – when Horuss moved, shifting a little under the bedsheets and making a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Mr Zahak stood abruptly.

“Do we get a nurse or -?” Cronus began nervously, but Mr Zahak waved the idea into silence and beckoned Cronus over.

“Talk to him, he will be happy to see you.”

Cronus froze for a second, then walked over on leaden legs, fearing what he’d see.

Just as he reached the bed Horuss turned over, and Cronus saw his face. His eyes were bleary and pain-filled – but his face was mostly unaffected, the burn having licked his right cheek, searing mostly his neck and ear, and burning away a lot of his long hair. The wounded areas were covered in pristine white gauze, so it was impossible to guess the severity of the damage.

“Cronus?” Horuss whispered hoarsely.

“Yes mate I’m… I’m here.” He took Horuss hand and stroked it gently, while an awful, selfish relief flooded through him at the fact that Horuss’ face had escaped the worst of the blaze.

                And it’s meant to be worse on his neck and scalp – so maybe the burns to the torso aren’t that bad..?   

Horuss coughed, then squeezed Cronus’ hand back. “I should’ve listen’d to you – they came in – they-”

“I know,” Cronus whispered, perching up on the side of the bed so Horuss didn’t have to turn his head to see him, “Horuss I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright. Wasn’t you. And I’ll be outta here in no time.” He slurred, turning his head to see his dad. “No time, right mpampa?”

Mr Zahak folded his arms sternly, but couldn’t supress his relieved smile at hearing his son talking with such confidence. “You have to stay here at least five days. At least. There is no rush. You can catch up at university. I would rather you stay here two weeks than leave early and have anything get infected.”

Horuss nodded, then a spasm of pain flickered across his face. “Ok. Can I get more morphine please?”

“I think you have had… Hmm I will check with the nurse. We do not need an overdose on top of everything else.”

Mr Zahak pressed a kiss to the top of Horuss’ forehead – to which Horuss shrunk back in protest and pushed his father away with his left hand – then winced and lay very still for a moment, suddenly grey faced and exhausted.

Mr Zahak sighed. “I will get the nurse.”

When he left Horuss let out a shaky breath.

“Hurts?” Cronus asked, then kicked himself for his stupidly.

“Yes a bit,” Horuss chuckled weakly. “I can’t feel the worst of it though. No nerves left.”

Oh shit of course. Third degree burns. The worst damage but no pain… Which means it’s the rest of him that’s killing him…

“And you’ve uh, at least got a cool new hair style out of it.” Cronus added, while his stomach clenched with fury – at Viv, at Sara, at anyone involved in this attack.

“Yes.” Horuss laughed again, then winced. “Hope dad hurries up.” He whispered.

Cronus flinched in sympathy. For someone so huge, Horuss looked so horribly shrunken and small in the hospital bed.

“Thanks for coming.” Horuss said, grabbing harder at Cronus’ hands – but lacking his usual crushing strength, “But… Cronus…”

“What?”

“Can you, uh, not come again?”

Cronus’ mouth dropped open a little.

            He does blame me. Bet he never wants to see anyone involved in mob shit again.

“Nonono,” Horuss gasped, seeing his reaction and grabbing at his hand. “Not like that it’s just. I don’t want you to see me like this. It’s… it’s bloody embarrassing if you’ll excuse my French.”

Cronus laughed weakly. “Okay, well – like you said. You’ll be out of here in no time. You should come round the Vantas’ and hang out with me and Kankri while you recoup.”

“Yes – sounds perfect,” Horuss smiled, but the pain was obviously eating at him, as a sheen of sweat covered his face, and he let out a sigh of relief when the harangued nurse returned with Mr Zahak and adjusted the settings on the morphine drip.

“I’m going to increase your allowance, since you’re such a big guy,” the nurse said, in what he obviously thought was the right tone for addressing a teenager, but came across as awfully patronising, “I won’t get into technicalities but you’re body burns through it quicker than most.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Horuss was barely listening, just watching the drip, waiting for the painkiller to enter his system.

“That should do it!” The nurse said, then bustled off.

Horuss smiled up at his dad and mumbled “’fharisto”, his eyes already glassy and half-focused.

“He’ll hopefully sleep for a few more hours now so there’s no need to stay.” Mr Zahak said quietly, as Horuss’ hand slid bonelessly from Cronus’. “Thank you for visiting, Cronus. When you’re able – I mean, if things are cleared up in Bethnal Green – you’re always welcome at ours.”

Cronus murmured his thanks and endured a bone-crushing handshake, before leaving the hospital as quickly as he could, a searing hot rage settling in his chest.

            How dare Viv do this?

Viv had aimed to kill Horuss – and it was only sheer luck that he was alive. He was going to be scarred and in pain every day because one vengeful woman didn’t know how to run her business.

Until she’s gone Horuss will never feel safe in his shop – in his home again –

            And I want her gone -

In the car park he found himself calling Meenah almost on autopilot and when she answered he didn’t let her talk, just blurted out his message:

“Tell Auntie P I want to know the plan for getting rid of Viv. I want to be involved – give me all the details and I’ll tell you everything I know about the lads and lasses and the set up. I want to kill them all. I wanna kill Viv.”

He hung up just as Meenah began to cackle delightedly.

***

Remembering what Empress had said about getting in contact with some of the old lads and lasses, he tried to phone Mikey – but either he wasn’t around or he wasn’t picking up for the old boss’s son.

Just as he was getting on the overground, however, Cronus got a call from an unknown number.

Mikey? Or Auntie P?

“Hello Cronus, we‘ve got a court date set. Monday the 9^th aka next Monday.” Leiko Pyrope said briskly down the phone, not stopping to allow him a reply. “You have until Friday to complete your statement about what you’ve done with your father’s gang. Because if it comes out in court – and please do imagine me giving a knowing wink here – it will be a lot harder for Pyralwski to defend you. The sooner you come to me the better- as we need to work on your court presentation… Oh and I hope you have a suit. If not: get a suit. Capiche?”

Cronus froze. His dad’s stern face flashing before his eyes. Capiche?

“I..uh…yeah.” He sighed shakily, “Capiche.”

“Excellent – see you soon Mr Ampora.”

Monday?? He only had until Monday before he was to be hauled up in front of a jury… He felt the sweat start on his forehead and dashed it away.

Ampora’s are smart, Ampora’s get the job done. You can do this.

But as he sat on the train, thinking miserably over his testimony, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

***

Back at the Vantas’ Cronus paced restlessly from living room, to hallway, to kitchen and back, stewing in anger and fear and guilt. His bunched fists longed to punch out at something but he couldn’t bear to think what Mr Vantas or Diti would say if they came home to wreckage. Instead, he ground his teeth and paced quicker.

The front door opened when he was in the kitchen and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths – but it wasn’t enough to calm him down before Porrim stepped into the room.

“Wow, what’s up with you? You’re tense.” She drawled, dropping her bag onto the kitchen table and crossing hers arms to regard him critically.

“Horuss in hospital. Court date set.” He managed to grind out, feeling furious, helpless tears building in his eyes that he tried to blink away.

“Horuss in… is he okay?” Porrim asked, unfolding her arms and staring at him incredulously.

“Arson attack Sunday night.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I.. I don’t know.” Cronus said honestly, shrugging his shoulders.

What would that have achieved?

His head wasn’t quite right. He could feel the abyss of flashbacks and disassociation like the pit below a tightrope he was walking on. And the strange emotions of the day had knocked him off balance…

“When’s the court date?” Porrim asked, trying to keep her voice casual even they both knew how monumental a day it would be for Cronus.

“Monday.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Porrim sighed and walked over to pull him into a close into a hug.

“Okay. Freaking out’s understandable. Deep breath. Relax.”

Cronus tried - earnestly drawing in a shaky breath and breathing out into Porrim’s neck, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to absorb some of her balance.

“I don’t think I can do it.” He mumbled into her hair, and she stroked his back soothingly.

“Court?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

                I have to stand up and tell everyone I’m a murderer.

“It’s gunna be shit, I agree.” She said levelly, “But we’ll support you.”

“No you won’t.” He whispered back, “Not after-” He couldn’t finish the sentence but Porrim seemed to take his meaning.

                A steaming body in an alleyway. The blood pulsing up and over her chest like a rose.

She paused for a moment, evidently thinking, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“C’mon, I know what’ll make you feel better – at least for a bit. We’ve got a few hours before anyone else comes home – “

Cronus blinked. Porrim was wearing purple lipstick. Wy hadn’t he noticed before? It looked incredible on her full lips but –

                The girl’s wild laughter. Her bruises matching her lipstick. The gunshot –

“No. I can’t,” Cronus shook his head, but Porrim captured his mouth again and rolled her body up against him.

“Come on-” she crooned.

“I really can’t,” He protested, a frightened tear escaping as visions of the girl swam before his eyes.

Porrim froze, and then took a small step back, keeping a steadying hand on his chest.

“Sorry. Didn’t realise you-” She bit her lip, considering, then took his hand, “New plan, come with me – no funny business.”

Porrim pulled him up the stairs and into her room, where she lay down on the bed and flicked on her telly to some mind-numbing daytime TV show.

“C’mon, I don’t bite.”

Cronus frowned, then realised what she wanted.

It felt strange to curl up quietly by her side, stranger still when she pulled him over to rest his head on her stomach so he could listen to her slow, even breaths as the contestants on the inane game-show prattled about what they would do with their winnings.

“I’m not a police officer, I’m not a lawyer, and I’m not a therapist.” Porrim said after a while, using one hand to thread through his thick hair, and the other to scroll through her phone. “I can’t send you to prison – I can’t even kick you out of this house – so practise with me. Tell me what you’ve got to tell that lawyer.”

Cronus pressed his eyes shut.

“You’re gunna hate me.” He whispered.

Porrim snorted. “I already hate you, numbnuts. …And I’m no stranger to mob business, remember?”

Cronus nodded against her stomach, weirdly grateful she’d put him in a position where he didn’t have to look at her face.

“I… you know I did some stuff with the gang…”

“The old extortion racket. Yeah.” She sounded half-bored, which somehow made it easier to talk.

“Well… look there was this whole thing with dad trying to shut down another boss’s operation – and he got another boss involved. For backup, kind of thing.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well the deal was this other boss’ gang could come onto our patch for like strategy meetings and that – but this boss specialises in drugs and the gang started selling on dad’s turf. Which wasn’t part of the deal.”

“So you got into a fight…”

“Not quite.” Cronus swallowed.

                The girl had been on her knees, her face bruising from the crack Mikey gave her with the gun –

“There were these three, uh, gang members we found while – while out on the streets. A huge guy with dreadlocks. Viv knocked him out with a crowbar. He might’ve died – might’ve been okay. I didn’t – we didn’t stay behind to-”

“Alright. Dreadlocks guy. Who else? I can feel your heartbeat speeding up so I know this is leading to something.”

Cronus swallowed the bile rising in this throat.

“A skinny white guy with this – this shitty little goatee…”

“What happened?”

“Sara she – she cut his throat. Just slashed it wide open like a –like- ”

Poriim cut him off again, her hand clenching in his hair for just a moment, “No poetry, just the facts, please. The last one. Go on.”

Her questions were coming too fast for him to find his balance.

You’re nothing like your father, you couldn’t-

                I didn’t hesitate for a fucking second-

“I had to – dad made me-” Cronus whispered into the ribbed black material of Porrim’s shirt.

“He made you?” she said sharply, her stomach muscles clenching beneath him, “You mean like physically threatened – or-?”

“Sort of.” Cronus felt hot and feverish all over. Her hand had stilled in his hair. “When I didn’t… before he got the lads and lasses to – there’d be punishment if I didn’t do what they wanted – what he wanted.”

“But you had a choice?”

He wanted to protest.

                But she’s right. You didn’t hesitate. That poor fucking girl-

                                You’re a murderer. Just say it.

“I… I didn’t feel that way at the time.” He managed.

Porrim took a deep breath. “So. the third person.”

                The girl. Tights jeans stretched over thick legs. A band tshirt or something and a lairy metallic bomber jacket. Her fringe cut just a little too high above her eyebrows. Those dark, mocking eyes and painted purple lips. Her laughter –

“It was a girl. Our age or maybe a little older. Maybe a little younger.” He began, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

“Okay. So.” Porrim paused and then spoke with a cold, almost clinical voice, “….Cronus if it’s eating you up this much you either raped her or killed her. Better tell me which.”

“I killed her.” Cronus said as clearly as he could. He felt Porrim’s whole body tense up and he pulled away to sit with his back to her at the edge of her bed so he could wipe the panicked tears from his face. “Excuse me I have to go throw up.” He muttered, bolting from the room before she banished him herself.

Porrim appeared in the bathroom doorway as he was retching miserably over the toilet.

“I… might need some time to figure out how I feel about this.” She said softly. Cronus didn’t look up. He could feel her judgement burning its way into his back. “But you have to tell the lawyer, because if it comes out you’re fucked.”

“I know.”

“…We’re going to be there for you on Monday. So you might want to warm amma and dad and Kankri before they have to hear it in the public gallery.”

“Yeah.”

“Does Horuss know?”

“I… he knows I’ve hurt people. I didn’t say exactly what-“

Another wave of nausea redoubled him over the toilet bowl.

Porrim sighed and got him a glass of water. He flushed the toilet and sat shivering on the closed toilet lid for a moment while she stared down at him.

“Okay.” She said after a moment, retreating to the doorway, “Gameplan: calm down. Have a shower or something if that’ll help. Call the bloody lawyer. …Have you had any therapy with amma yet?”

“No. She’s been busy. Getting back into work after the book tour.”

“Okay, well, I’ll talk to her. I think you need it.”

“…Thank you.”

“Call the lawyer.” Porrim shot back, as she returned to her room.

***

Pyrope hadn’t been surprised by his confession. Which meant that her witness had already told her what he’d done. Whoever that was.

She finished by reassuring him that he’d probably get off lightly – since they were arguing coercion, child abuse including psychological abuse – and he had still been a minor at the time.

“You can come round tomorrow afternoon to meet Pyralwski and go through your statement and the kind of questions I’ll be asking you on the stand.” She finished, hanging up with a not unkind “Goodbye Mr Ampora.”

Cronus put his phone in his pocket, then after fidgeting for a few minutes, propelled himself out the door in search of cigarettes and beer… or something stronger.

He couldn’t seemed to shake the action-replay of that night from behind his eyes-

                The girl laughing – The gunshot – her collapse and the blood that bubbled up – Sara’s kiss branding his cheek –

As he walked to the shops he realised he was physically shaking his head and he hissed as a sharp pain registered behind his eyes.

The shopkeep didn’t raise an eyebrow at the rattled-off shopping list of cheap vodka, expensive cigarettes and migraine-strength painkillers – but asked for his ID. It wasn’t a problem, as he actually was 18 now and his crappy little provisional driver’s license confirmed it, but the name Ampora, Cronus was printed across it.

Please don’t know who I am, please be the one fucker in London who doesn’t know the name Ampora, please don’t say anything-

But the shopkeep only gave the shiny plastic a cursory once over before handing Cronus his items in a blue and white stripy bag.

“Have nice day.” He muttered, turning back to his TV which had the football on mute.

“Cheers boss,” Cronus muttered in return, barely waiting until he was out the door to take two pills with a swig of the vodka.

The walk home was a blur of disassociation, and he couldn’t remember if he’d eaten anything at dinner, but by 8pm Cronus was watching telly in the livingroom with the Vantas’ - sat on his little pile of pillows and bedding, while Kankri and Porrim shard the sofa and Diti sat on the floor in front of Kai on the armchair so he could massage her shoulders as they watched old reruns of You’ve Been Framed!

“Are you sure you’re comfy there Cronus?” Diti asked as she saw him looking around, “We could always get Kankri and Porrim to shove up.”

“Amma!” Both Porrim and Kankri protested immediately, and Diti cracked up, her peals of laughter infectious enough to draw a grin from Cronus – who stretched out of the bedding like a cat, poking his tongue out at Porrim and Kankri.

“I’m good – this is way more comfortable than the sofa – and I would know.”

“Ok shona,” DIti said, wiping her eyes with the corner of her headscarf, “But if you change your mind we’ll work out a sofa-rota or- or something!”

Kai joined in laughing then, his deep voice golden when infused with amusement.

Cronus wanted to live in that moment for forever – the golden laughter, Diti calling him “shona” with nothing but kindness in her eyes, the room full of happiness and family - the balloon in his chest inflated to capacity-

And then Porrim spoke up.

“While we’re all here there’s something Cronus needs to tell you all.”

Diti and Kai looked at him curiously, Kankri nodded to show he was listening while watching the telly – but Porrim shut it off.

“Hey-”

“Shhh. Listen.”

“Now?” Cronus asked weakly, feeling like he was suddenly under interrogation lights as every head in the room turned to look at him curiously.

Not now not now not now – they’ll kick me out. Where the fuck will I even go?

“Get it over and done with.” Porrim said pragmatically. The troubled look in her eyes suggesting that she still hadn’t decided how she felt about him.

                She’ll use their reaction to measure hers.

“What’s this about? Have you got a court date?” Diti asked softly, sensing his distress.

“Yes. Monday.” Cronus said clasping and unclasping his hands anxiously. He felt strange sat down on the pillows now – everyone was looking down on him except Diti. But if he stood up he’d have to stare down on them and tell them-

                I’m a murderer.

The very thought made his headache spike again, but he couldn’t get to the tablets he’d bought since he’d hidden them along with the vodka down the back of the sofa.

“Okay, well, we can hire you a suit – I’ll take the day off work, drive you-” Mr Vantas began, but Porrim interrupted him.

“Dad wait. There’s more.”

Cronus genuinely thought he might throw up if he opened his mouth.

“It’s the last thing he has to tell the lawyer – hasn’t confessed it yet,” Porrim began impatiently, but Diti raised her hand.

“Give him a second, Porrim.” She ordered quietly, then, to Cronus, “When you’re ready. …I can tell by your hesitation that whatever you’re about to tell us isn’t good, but we’re not about to turf you out onto the street if that’s what you’re worried about. We took you in and we’ll keep you safe until we can figure out more permanent living arrangements after the trial, okay?”

“’Kay.” Cronus mumbled, then spoke quickly, trying to give the basic facts with no embellishments. “Pyrope already knows everything I’ve done for dad. But she has to hear it coming from me so she can prepare the defence lawyer for when it comes out in court. I… hurt people. For dad. I didn’t want to but I did. And I… killed someone.” His breath hitched but he pushed forward, pressing his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see their faces. “A girl. My age. Shot her. Didn’t want to. No choice. But I didn’t hesitate when they put the gun in my hand. Have to say that in court. Be worse if it doesn’t come from me.”

He took a deep shaky breath them opened his eyes before he could hesitate.

The balloon burst.

Kankri had turned ash grey, his mouth was hanging open slightly and his eyes were wide with horror.

Diti had her hands over her mouth, her dark brows furrowed.

Mr Vantas

– kind, stern, supportive, passionate Mr Vantas –

His face had crumpled, his mouth twisted downward, his eyes troubled and distant.

“You… you didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t want you to… think of me like…” Cronus took another shaky breath, then pushed himself up, choosing to ignore how everyone in the room had flinched backwards, just for a moment.

“’M going out.” He said hoarsely.

Porrim grabbed his arm as he fled the room, but he brushed her off.

                They let a murderer into their home – they looked after me, fed me, kept me safe – put themselves at risk-

                For me.

                                I didn’t even hesitate.

As he walked briskly down the road to the high street his thoughts started spinning in that way they did before he lost time.

                Good. Fucking good. I want to lose time – all of it – I don’t wanna think – I don’t wanna be me - don’t wanna be here for this-

His hands were shaking too hard to light his cigarette. He didn’t know where he was going as he walked down past the nursery, past East Finchley station.

                Get me out of here, I can’t go back to them now – they’ll hate me-

He managed to put his headphones in. The group he had only downloaded because Mikey had liked them started playing, their cryptic lyrics adding to the confusion in his head

“Bobby bananas foster/ Intense like a campers crossword/ Slicker than some pants he bought for/ Dinner with the Manson lawyers”

                                Why did I do it?

                                                you had a choice

                                Porrim got me a fucking defense lawyer – do I even deserve to be defended?

“Spit take the tobacco cancer/ Switch blades with a pack of panthers/ Just wait 'til the captain answers/ And we all give way to the jack-o-lanterns”

                                Oh god Kankri. He’s so fucking – fucking – good

                                                And Horuss – I should have told him, he deserves to know

                                                His poor fucking face

                                Diti…

“Naughty nurses cursing loudly/ Gassed up from the bourbon bounty/ Like she don't give a burp about me/ But she still get low by Bergen county”

I have to say it all in court. They’ll be paparazzi outside the courthouse. Everyone in the fucking world will know who I am and what I’ve done

“Let me clear my name and bury/ This hatchet in your caged canary/ With a cape and hair piece/ Buenos Aires like ‘Collect call for Agent Clarice’”

                I… can’t do this.

Veritas Vos Liberabit right?

I deserve everything that’s coming

                                Maybe Viv will just kill me

                                                That’d be alright

The beautiful mist descended and Cronus felt himself fade out and–

- He was in Archway. Unchartered territory. No mob here that he knew of… He looked around. It was dark but the kebab shops were still open so…

He checked his phone. Six missed calls. 2:05am. Why did he feel like the outline of a drawing of a person?

He walked to the nearest bus stop and checked the map. Alright. Night bus – Except when the N20 came Cronus realised he didn’t have his oyster card with him. He patted his pockets in a hopeless sort of way but the grizzled bus driver just waved him own, rolling her eyes.

By the time he got in it was almost 3am. They’d left the door on the latch though, which was a promising start. At least, that’s what Cronus told himself as his stomach dropped reflexively at the memory of their horrified faces earlier.

The house had felt safe for a good few weeks... That’s more than you’ve had before. Be grateful it lasted that long.

He tiptoed into the living room, and found his bed on the sofa had been neatly made up; pillows plumped and duvet folded back invitingly. There was a now-cold cup of tea on the coffee table, with a note slid beneath it.

Cronus swallowed the lump in his throat. The note was in Mr Vantas’ messy hand.

Cronus,

I wish you hadn’t run off. We’re not angry at you, we just needed a moment to process that information you gave us. A little warning would have been nice, but I appreciate that Porrim put you in a difficult position. She says she’s sorry for that, by the way.

Diti and I would like to talk to you about what you told us tomorrow. I hope you know that we’re still here for you, and you’re still very welcome in our home. I spent four years untangling Si from the Empress’ hold so I know that in that line of work people are often forced or coerced into doing things they would never normally do.

My offer to come with you to meet the lawyers also still stands.

Try not to take your past out on yourself so much. Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning.

K

Cronus stared blankly at the note for a moment, then re-read it, tracing the thin biro lines with his finger to make sure he’d read it right.

His legs gave out almost with him noticing, and the next moment he found himself crying weakly on the sofa, clutching the letter like a lifeline.

When he had recovered himself he smoothed the letter out and put it back on the table. Then stared ahead blankly again, trying to process the information. His thoughts had stopped swirling; now they were frozen on We’re not angry at you and the image of the dead girl he still couldn’t shake.

His headache was back. Pounding.

He shucked of his jacket and kicked off his trainers, finding the vodka and migraine tablets where he’d left them down the back of the sofa. He took two with a swig of the vodka and laid down, pulling the duvet up over his head and trying to take calming breaths.

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten, One two three four five six seven eight nine ten, one two three four five six seven eight nine ten, one two three four five six seven –

No good. His head was killing him.

Cronus sighed and sat up, taking another two pills and another swig.

If his head would just stop pounding maybe he could sleep this feeling off. Just stop the fucking chaos in his mind.

Another two pills. Another swig.

When the fuck do these kick in??

He felt… strange. Woozy.

Water.

Heaving himself up, Cronus walked slowly to the kitchen, pills and vodka in hand, using his free hand to steady his clumsy steps as the house blurred and bled like a painting in the rain –

                Like blood seeping through a shirt-

In the kitchen he steadied himself over the sink and took a gulp of water straight from the tap.

Better. The room focused –

                -His head pounded.

“Fucks’ sake.” He muttered, the words slurring oddly.

There were 8 pills left in the packet. What was even in them?

“You’re supposed to stop headaches,” he growled drunkenly at the packet, taking another swig of the vodka, the sharp taste at the back of his throat focusing him enough to read the packet: Active ingredients: Codeine, paracetamol.

say a prayer for me

I feel that mystifying times have gotten ugly –

• Dad’s brains trickling into the carpet

A pain so bad his stomach heaved.

“Hurry up.” He hissed, popping the rest of the pills from the foil packet and scooping them up and pouring them into his mouth.

As he lifted the almost empty vodka bottle his teeth chattered and he involuntarily crunched down on some pills, their acrid taste flooding his mouth. But the vodka would fix that.

He finished the bottle and sighed with relief as the pills seemed to finally do their fucking job. His eyelids sagged and his brain stopped flashing up images – instead beginning to darken and shut off.

He lurched then, as his knees collapsed. As he crumpled to the floor his arm knocked a cooking pot off the drying rack and it clanged almost comically as is bounded across the floor.

The noise didn’t hurt though – no more pounding.

Cronus smiled as he felt the cool lino on his cheek. Felt good. No more noise. No more memories. No more Cronus fucking Ampora. Deep breath and –

-

-

I saw a dead fish on the pavement, and thought "what did you expect?"

There's no water round here, stupid, should have stayed where it was wet...

-

-

-

“Cronus?”

The voice came from far away. Like someone calling down a deep well.

“Cronus can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? Kai! Get down here now!”

Were hands touching him? Or was he imagining it.

I’m tired. Let me fucking sleep.

“Back to bed. No. Go upstairs. Both of you. … Kai get an ambulance.”

That roused him a little. “Noambulnace.” Did he say that out loud? Did they hear? “Nohospital. M’okay.”

 Strong arms wrapped around him.

Horuss?

No. Not right.

He was vaguely aware of being lifted and then –

                Fingers in his mouth- pushing – insistent -

Nonononononono-

His throat burned like it had been scorched as he threw up in the sink, lights coming back on in his brain, his bleary eyes managing to catch glimpses of images he could almost process.

A pool of bile and pills in the stainless steel drain.

“What did you take Cronus? – Is this the packet?” Diti’s voice sounded panicked. A blur of blue and white was pushed in front of his face.

What was-?

Oh the migraine pills yeah.

“Mmm,” was all he could manage.

“How many did you take?”

A harder question. He struggled to think.

“All of’em.”

“Kai how many has he thrown up.”

“Uh… four, I think.”

“Get him upstairs – it’ll be easier over the toilet. Cronus I have to call an ambulance.” Cool hands brushed sweat-slicked hair from his forehead, and for a moment the outline of a face appeared in front of him.

Diti. Worried. Her hair free from her headscarf and curling loose around her shoulders –

                He felt guilty about that-

                                Wait. Focus. Hospital.

“No. Nohospital. Please no hops- hospital.”

“Diti they’ll put it all over the news – we can’t-”

“Ok. Fine. Get him upstairs. If we can’t make him bring them up though I have to.”

Another awful lurch and Cronus felt the world flip.

Thuds, a hand protecting his head from the banisters.

The fake-tiled lino of the bathroom.

An awful, sharp light.

“My head,” he moaned, and then he was crumpled back over the toilet and fingers were thrust in his mouth again.

Nono-

“What’s happening – is he okay?”  

Kankri. Worried.

“Back to bed. Now Kankri. I mean it.”

“But is he going to be okay?”

Kankri. Crying. Crying? Why crying?

The next few minutes were a nightmare of retching and burning pain that went from his stomach all the way up to his teeth-

And then it was over. And a cold flannel was pressed to his pounding head.

“Can you get him showered? I’ll get a change of clothes.” Diti’s voice left and firm hands heaved him up and moved him into bathtub. The shower was cold at first, then lukewarm.

Cronus opened his eyes slowly. Mr Vantas’ stricken face came into focus.

“Cronus? Can you talk? It’s going to be okay-”

“I had a headache.” Cronus whispered, the effort of lifting his head to look at Mr Vantas almost too much. “I couldn’t – I just wanted to sleep. Sorry I woke you up.”

Mr Vantas froze, then burst into laughter that quickly became tears.

“Cronus- Jesus Christ you scared me so much. I wish you hadn’t run off we – we care about you – do you understand?”

Cronus just blinked at him, the water soothing on his burning skin.

When he was dressed, Mr Vantas helped him stand. And then Porrim was in the doorway.

“Doesn’t he need to go to hospital? Dad he needs to go to the psyc ward. He just tried to kill-”

“Shh. Porrim. I have to get him back downstairs.”

Kankri appeared in the hallway too.

“He can have my bed – I’ll use the spare mattress. Someone needs to watch him – you and amma need sleep.”

Mr Vantas paused, and Cronus found his legs giving way again.

“Shit. Okay. Good idea.”

“I’ll help too.” Porrim said, taking Cronus other arm and looping it around her neck. “I’ll top and tail with Kanny. We’ll keep watch over him - don’t worry dad.”

There was more movement, then Cronus was lowered onto something soft and then

                and then

                                and

Wednesday

“Good morning Cronus, how are you feeling?” Diti’s voice was soft and lilting, her fingers gentle as she pressed them into his neck to feel his pulse and then his temperature.

How am I feeling?

“Like I’m the most hungover person who ever lived.” He whispered, unwilling to move from the safety of the bed.

“I want you to drink this water, then come downstairs to talk to me, okay?”

Cronus hadn’t opened his eyes yet

“Okay.”

He found he could only move at a glacial pace – slowly opening his eyes; slowly moving his limbs; slowly sitting up – or stabbing pain would attack his stomach and head. But he managed to sit up eventually and began to sip the water gingerly, wincing as it hit his empty stomach.

Getting downstairs was worse, but he made it into the kitchen where Diti was cooking something and sat at the dining room table, resting his head on folded arms.

“You really scared us last night.” Diti said matter-of-factly.

“Sorry. Accident. Headache.” Cronus whispered, his throat feeling burnt and itchy.

Diti slid into the chair opposite him.

“Cronus no one takes that many pills or drinks that much vodka for a headache. And you know that, logically. So what was it in your head that you were trying to get rid of?”

Cronus didn’t lift his head from his arms; just whispered his answer into the crook of his elbow: “…Everything.”

“It’s a lot to process isn’t it?” Diti said conversationally, never raising her voice from a soft murmur, “Your father’s death, your guilt at what you were made to do, the thought of alienating everyone around you when it comes out at trial.”

“…Yes.”

She paused for a moment, then began speaking, seemingly at random. “You know, Kai grew up in a foster home. He was orphaned as a child and he was a very lonely kid. But then one day the house got sent an older girl, who really took him under her wing. She was both sister and pseudo-mother to him, and they were extremely close growing up.”

Cronus lifted his head and squinted at her with interest.

Why is she telling me this?

“That woman, Dolores, would grow up to be Porrim’s mother.” Diti continued, looking at Cronus intently with her dark eyes, “When she was killed Kai fought her aunt for custody of Porrim – as he knew the aunt would want to take Porrim back to Jamaica, and London was her home. And once he won custody Kai knew he wanted to make the streets safe for her – safe from the mob.”

Diti re-adjusted her headscarf and stood up.

“I’ll make you some tea. And then you’re having breakfast.”

“But- wait. What about Si?” Cronus managed, his brain not quite making the connections she had hinted at.

“Kai met Si when he started out as a social worker helping families who had been affected by the mob.” Diti explained, boiling the kettle, “Si came to him – begging for help – to get away from Empress. I met Kai shortly afterwards, actually, and I helped fund the operation to get Si out of there. You may have noticed that we don’t live in the luxury I should be able to afford at this stage in my career and with my books.”

Cronus nodded dumbly.

“Our money goes towards helping those we can. It’s Kai’s mission and I’d like to think it’s mine too. Obviously we keep some money back to pay for Kankri’s college – and before you ask yes we did offer Porrim private schooling, but she said no. Said the money needed to go towards helping those affected by the mob.”

She paused to sit down and push a cup of tea at him.

“So…” Cronus began, staring down at his tea.

“So we want to help you Cronus. Of course we do. It’s not your fault you got swept up in this and we don’t blame you.” She sipped at her own tea and motioned for him to do the same. After a moment he looked up to find her staring at him.

“What?”

“We don’t blame you Cronus, but you obviously blame yourself.”

“I did those things –“

“Stop.” She held up a manicured hand and sighed, “We know. So take a deep breath and tell me one thing that’s eating at you aside from the things you did.”

Cronus thought long and hard for a moment, savouring the sweet tea that actually felt good on his hoarse throat and empty stomach.

“My dad.” He said finally.

“What about your dad?” Diti pushed gently, when he didn’t seem forthcoming.

“I… I never said.. I almost. Wait. Fuck. Sorry.” Cronus pushed the half-empty teacup away and lowered his head back down on his arms, closing his eyes and attempting to drown out how much various parts of him were screaming in pain by talking. “It’s just… he never really spoke to me – like about me – it was just… business-like parenting. But when I started getting involved in the gang it’s like he was finally… proud of me or something?

                Blood will out.

“And I… threw that in his face. I basically told him I hated him. And then that night he died.”

Why did I have to do that? Why couldn’t we just be normal people? I hate this job – I hate your business. I hate this stupid family and – and –

I hate you.

                I didn’t say it but I fucking well meant it at that moment…

“And how does that make you feel?” Diti asked, touching his cheek gently to coax him upright.

“I don’t know…guilty I guess,” Cronus mumbled, raising his head but avoiding her gaze. “But then… he was doing bad things and I couldn’t…I didn’t want any part of that… But I should have wanted to be. As an Ampora.”

Diti regarded him critically, then stood up.

“Why don’t you focusing on being the best Cronus you can be. And we’ll tackle the Ampora side of things after the trial?”

“…Okay. That sounds good.” Cronus said weakly, then realising with a jolt that he meant it. Diti had somehow lifted a weight of his shoulders.

“Good.” She said with a wry smile, “Does breakfast also sound good? Because you can’t go see the lawyers on an empty stomach. And as much as I’d rather have you resting today, that’s what you’ve got to do.”

***

Pyralwski was a short, slight, older man with albinism and a skin condition that left his skin scaly and paper-thin. At the meeting Diti drove him to Pyrope took everything Cronus told her in her stride – while Pyralwski “hmmm”ed and “hah”ed as they went through his full statement.

When Pryope called time on the meeting Pyralwski told Cronus simply that he’d “do his best” when it came to defending him. Which wasn’t as encouraging as Cronus would have liked. Still, having Diti in the waiting room when he came out made him feel a little better, and on the drive home she didn’t insist on practising the statement or even talking about much, just let him rest his aching head.

“Drink some water and go to sleep.” She said simply when they made it back home, “I’ll take you for a checkup with the GP tomorrow if you don’t improve.”

Back in the cramped little living room with the curtains drawn Cronus began to feel a little calmer.

Work on being the best Cronus you can be.

Okay, go to trial. Give the statement. It’ll be okay. And if it isn’t it’s still the right thing to do…

Just as he was dropping off to sleep his phone buzzed. A message:

Just heard from Meenah.

We’ll have a meeting the day after the trial.

If ur still a free man.

Auntie P

Chapter Text

Monday

Cronus perched uncomfortably in the kitchen while Porrim squinted critically at his hair. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline on the border between proper and provocative and had pulled the thick twists of her hair back into an elegant chignon.

Look smart. Pyrope had said. Look respectable. Everyone was trying their hardest to obey and so the morning had become a strange flurry of dressing up and preening usually unheard of outside of Porrim’s room in the Vantas household.

Cronus’ shirt was well fitting – one of his old ones from home, so naturally it was tailored stylishly – but now it was sticking to him with nervous sweat. He hadn’t had a suit jacket or trousers, but Porrim had taken his measurements and bought him a decent looking Primark set. Anything but pinstripes had been his only stipulation. His dad had always dressed in pinstripes and he didn’t need another thing to remind him of his family connection to the infamous Orphaner.

Nevertheless when he had examined himself in the mirror that morning all he could see was his dad’s reflection. The hair, the jawline, the sharp suit – and now the fucking scars Makara had given him.

“Why don’t we just leave it curly?” Porrim said, and Cronus scowled.

“Can’t I just slick it back like normal?”

“Gives the wrong impression,” Diti said softly, entering the room in an emerald green trouser suit, replete with shimmering gold headscarf and stiletto heeled boots to add a powerful boost to her diminutive stature.

“I’m going to try sweeping it over to one side.” Porrim said, running the comb through his tangled hair and making Cronus hiss in annoyance.

“Fine. Whatever. As long as you don’t part it in the middle – or scalp me in the fucking process.”

“Watch your language.” Mr Vantas said, entering in a shabby brown suit that Diti immediately tutted at and went to fetch the iron to smarten up.

“Sorry.” Cronus muttered, wishing the butterflies in his stomach would stop fluttering around and making him more queasy than usual.

While Diti carefully pressed Mr Vantas’ suit jacket Kankri entered in his college uniform – the smartest clothes he had.

“It’s quarter to nine – we should be leaving.” Kankri said, twiddling his fingers and glancing anxiously at the clock.

“Nearly done,” Porrim said, giving Cronus’ unruly hair a few more licks with the brush then standing back to admire her handiwork.

“Amma? Abba? What do you think?”

“Perfect.” Diti said, giving Cronus an encouraging smile.

“I think we’d better get in the car.” Mr Vantas said, pulling on his newly ironed jacket. His voice was strained as he tried to keep his agitation under wraps.

“Get I just go to the loo real quick?” Cronus asked quietly, his head beginning to spin.

“Yes – be quick. Kids in the car.”

Porrim and Kankri left and Diti gave Cronus’ upper arms a squeeze as he slunk past.

“Deep breaths.”

“Yeah.”

In the bathroom Cronus leaned over the toilet for a moment, but nothing came up, so he took a second to look at himself in the mirror.

He looked… haggard. His usual brown complexion bleached to grey by fear and anxiety. The circles around his eyes were deep and sunken.

Worst of all though was his resemblance to his father. It was unmistakable. The last few weeks of constant fear and guilt had stripped away any remaining baby fat from his features, and the gaunt face that stared back at him in the mirror had his father’s features down to a tee. The thick brows; the sloping, broken nose; the sharp jaw and the fucking scars.

The suit completed the picture and Cronus found himself wanting to smash the mirror.

Maybe anger could get him through the trial. He didn’t know what else could.

Just look at me. Porrim had said. Just find my face and say it to me like we practised.

That was probably going to be easier said than done.

The car journey was going to be at least an hour – maybe more if the traffic was bad, which it always was. So Cronus sat hemmed in the back seat of the Vantas’ little car, with Kankri, the smallest, on the middle seat and Porrim on the other side.

Mr Vantas put the radio on and Cronus was grateful that no one tried to talk about anything – even Kankri judged the mood well enough to keep his mouth shut.

As they neared Southwark Cronus suddenly realised where their route would take them.

Over the Thames.

His heartbeat started to increase, but he tried not to make his discomfort obvious.

Blackfriars. We’re going to drive over Blackfriars bridge…

He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to run through his statement for the millionth time, but it was like he could feel the hungry Thames swirling below him – through the car, through the sturdy bridge, through the awful drop of air –

He jerked and gasped, a small movement but instantly recognisable in the focused atmosphere of the car.

“Sorry.” He said quietly, before anyone could ask what was wrong.

Mr Vantas nodded at him through the rear-view mirror and shifted gears to speed up a little, the vibrations of the car not helping Cronus to settle.

Kankri silently put his hand over Cronus’ and he grasped at it gratefully. The thought of falling made him think of the lads and lasses – the blond lass with her head all smashed in just lying in his kitchen – of blood and pain and TJ pleading and the weight of a gun in his hands and the weight of guilt in his sto8mach –

He heard Kankri hiss softly and loosened his grip on the proffered hand. He felt cold and shivery, and found, as they arrived on the South Bank, that he was drenched in sweat.

Bile rose in the back of his throat.

“Can we stop? Mr Vantas – can you pull over?” He paused barely half a second before the urgency of impending illness made him snap, “Pull over.”

The little car swerved to the edge of the road amidst the cries of angry car horns and a number of vile epithets directed at Kai – but Cronus paid them no mind as he half ran, half staggered to the stone balustrade that separated the road from the river, and heaved emptily over the side.

When nothing came up he squatted down, keeping his hands on the edge of the stone and pressing his forehead into a cool stone pillar, ignoring the concerned mutters of the passers-by.

“Hey, um, are you okay? Wait –no – stupid question… Uh, can you come back to the car? You can’t be late…” Kankri faltered, the gentle pressure of his hands on Cronus’ shoulder suggesting concern while his words did nothing to calm him.

“Kanny go back, I’ve got him.” Porrim now –collected and authoritative.

Strong hands clamped round his waist and he allowed himself to be pulled upwards and turned around, but he wouldn’t take his face out of his hands.

“Just gimme a sec,” he mumbled into his hands, resisting her tugging.

“Cronus… it’s going to be a shit day, but once it’s done it’s done. You’re doing the right thing – your testimony will get a lot of bad people put away. And we’re here for you.”

He’d heard all of that before. And so it wasn’t helpful in calming the dizzying storm inside.

“I know. That’s great,” he muttered, then added, “I’m going to prison. I’m going to throw up.”

“Porrim get back in the car,” Mr Vantas said wearily, coming over to stand next to Cronus, leaning on the stone balustrade.

He waited a moment, not rushing, then said quietly, “Turn around, look at the North Bank.”

“No thanks,” Cronus whispered, but when Mr Vantas didn’t press him, he cautiously turned around, and gripped with a white-knuckled fury to the stone bannister lest some freak accident threaten to tip him into the turbulent water below.

“You know,” Mr Vantas said conversationally, “in Paris they don’t have a North and South bank – they have a Left and Right bank… which would seem to change depending on which way up you held the map – and which has led to more tourists being lost than you could possibly imagine.”

Cronus snorted, trying to keep his eyes on the stately buildings of the North bank even as they were inextricably drawn back to the river below him.  

“It’s strange though, isn’t it – perspective that is?” Mr Vantas continued, “My left bank could be your right bank… the scariest day of your life could be the dullest of that guy’s.” He jerked a thumb at a pedestrian walking nonchalantly across the bridge.

“It’s not the scariest day of my life…” Cronus began, uncertainly.

“But you are scared?” Mr Vantas asked, his voice frank, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes – but not, like, for my life…” Cronus barely understood his own protestations.  What am I sacred of-?

“What are you scared of then?” Mr Vantas’ words jolted the truth from him.

“…I have to tell everyone… everyone will know….”

“You’re scared of what people think of you?”

“Yes.” Only in saying it did Cronus realise it was the truth. He couldn’t stand to be known forever as the Orphaner’s son. The guy who shot that girl…

Let me clear my name and bury

This hatchet in your caged canary

With a cape and hair piece

Buenos Aires like ‘Collect call for Agent Clarice’

“Well think of it like this.” Mr Vantas said philosophically, “No matter what gets said today – no matter the verdict and no matter the media fallout of this case – there will also be a right bank and a left bank.”

Cronus squinted suspiciously at him, but he continued quickly, “There will always be those who think the worst of you, and there will always be this family who thinks you’re incredibly brave, who think that you have struggled time and again to keep your humanity while being forced to do the worst things, who have seen how the past has affected you and how you are trying to overcome it, and who can see that you are a good person, or at the very least someone who wants to be a good person, which is sometimes all that matters.”

Cronus looked up at him then with a mix of confusion and sadness and hope brewing in his chest, and before he could react Mr Vantas pulled him into a rough hug, clapping him on the back as he spoke.

“You want me to stop speaking in metaphors and come take a tour of the Royal Courts of Justice with us?”

“Yeah alright,” Cronus croaked back, trying to swallow tears that had welled up unbidden, “God you’re good at this – ever thought of being a counsellor?”

***

When they arrived at the Royal Courts of Justice a horde of paparazzi, news reporters and onlookers were gathered outside.

“Should we have gotten Cronus something to hide his face with..?” Kankri asked uncertainly as they parked and Mr Vantas twisted his lips in the rear view mirror.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “But it’s too late now and they already know who he is. Cronus – you ready?”

Cronus nodded and Diti added –

“Don’t talk to any reporters and keep going straight up the steps. It’s twenty seconds of flashing cameras – easy peasy.”

Except it didn’t feel easy peasy. Because the second he reached the neat tree-lined paving that lead up to the court someone yelled -

“Oi – it’s the Ampora kid – oi kid, look this way!”

- And the swarm descended.

Before he could properly panic he found hands being slide into his on either side and looked round to find Porrim and Kankri flanking him.

“Straight ahead, don’t stop, let’s go.” Porrim hissed, tugging him along.

“Is that your family?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“These your friends?”

                “Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

                                “Gang members?”

“Cronus is it true you worked for your father?”

“Cronus what do you think of the charge list against your father?”

“Are you scared of repercussions against you for testifying today?”

“Cronus are you on trial?”

                “Shouldn’t you be on trial?”

Kankri and Porrim helped sweep him up the stairs and into the large entrance hall, where Pyrope was waiting with a girl –

Wait was that –?

“Latula can you please guide the Vantas family to the public gallery?” Pyrope asked, holding out a hand for first Diti, then Mr Vantas to shake – taking apparent relish in how Mr Vantas flexed his crushed hand afterwards.

“But-”

What the hell was Mituna’s girlfriend doing at the courthouse?

Whatever she was doing, she refused to look at Cronus, and instead alternated her gaze between the Vantas family and Pyrope – who crossed her arms in disapproval.

“Work experience means experience of how the job’s done. Not rubbernecking.” She snapped, and Latula, looking markedly uncomfortable in a tight suit and not her usual cropped jeans and vest top combo, hung her head and beckoned the Vantas family forward.

“Good luck Cronus,” Diti said, pulling him into a perfumed hug.

Mr Vantas clapped him on the shoulder and Kankri and Porrim hugged him at the same time, Kankri whispering “good luck” in one ear while Porrim whispered, “say it to me – ignore everything else” in the other.

They were swept off into the crowd of people – a mix of uncomfortable trial participants, bored jury, and obvious gawkers – with busy lawyers threading their way shark-like through the throng. Cronus found himself alone facing Pyrope’s red-tinted gaze.

“How you doing kiddo?” She asked, punching him lightly on the arm.

“Okay. Um.” Cronus floundered and looked longingly after the retreating backs of the Vantas’.

“Don’t worry they’ll be there for you in the public gallery.” Pyrope said breezily, pulling out her phone and scowling at the screen, “Balls. I need to get ready – the jury’s been selected and we’ve got a right rum’un for a judge – we call him His Honorable Tyranny… but you go ahead and call him “your honour”, gottit?”

Cronus nodded mutely.

“I’d usually just hand you over to Witness Service and have you wait outside the courtroom to be called – but given the delicate nature of the trial you’ll be put in a side room with a guard. The guard’s for your protection, not ‘coz we reckon you’re dangerous.” She added with a wink.

Another nod.

“Have you got your statement?”

Cronus pulled out his crumpled statement and waved it weakly.

“Great. You can just read from that – but remember me and Pyralwski will be throwing questions out at you. I have to play the bad guy, but Pyralwski’s there as your protection. Veritas Vos Liberabit, right?”

“Sure.” Cronus whispered, the predatory glint in her eye not making him feel too reassured.

What if she just throws me under the bus to get her convictions to stick? I’ve told her my fucking life story… Can she do that? Can you prosecute a witness??

It was too late for worry though, as a soft spoken pair from Witness Services who introduced themselves Ms Mundembe and Mr Rutherford were already leading him away to his room.

He was told the Ampora & Associates trial was taking place in chamber 3, but that they wouldn’t take him past it just yet as witnesses were gathering.

Just as they were nearing the side room set aside for him, an elderly woman came out of the ladies toilets, her face distinctly puffy despite the fresh layer of powder applied to her wrinkled face.

“You!” Her cry made Cronus whip around.

Edna stood before him in a tweed skirt suit and beehive hair, her pointed finger trembling with rage.

“E-Edna? Hi…” he mumbled, but before he could say any more – and before either Mundembe or Rutherford could intervene- she had belted him around the head with her handbag, and had to be pulled back by Mundembe before her nails could rake his face.

“What-?” Cronus spluttered, resisting Rutherford’s insistent tugging and murmurs to get you away safely.

“I’m going to tell ‘em all about you – you little shit!” she screeched, turning heads in the cool marble corridor, “I ‘ope you bloody hang. My Mikey’s dead cos of you! Told me hisself! Said you made ‘im look bad – had your dad’s goons sent for ‘im.” She was crying, big blubbery tears that dragged mascara down her cheeks, while still screaming and still trying to get at him.

“Edna – I didn’t-” Cronus tried to protest, while his dad’s dark words whispered in the back of his head -

you followed orders, didn’t hesitate, shot straight. Unlike that fucking liability Mikey.

I’d have him killed in an instant

 “Oh I know their angle yeah – poor little tyke didn’t know what ‘ee wos doing! Well bollocks to that! You knew exactly wot you were doing – Mikey said he saw you shoot a girl point blank! I hope you and your lot all go rot in the tanty for the rest of your rotten lives-”

Ms Mundembe managed to pull Edna away and Rutherford led Cronus into the little room and closed the door.

 “Sorry that’s ah, one of the people we were most trying to avoid.” He said a little sheepishly. “I’ll be right outside – I think you know PC Huang?”

PC Huang gave Cronus a tight smile and went back to listening to her radio.

“There’s water on the table. I’ll come get you when they’re, ah, ready for you.”

 Cronus sat down on the leather sofa and tried to stop his hands from shaking.

Mikey’s dead –

                You already knew that – deep down – you knew

                                So that’s Pyrope’s witness… no wonder you needed a fucking defence

His thoughts started to spiral and he dung his fingernails as hard as he could into his thighs.

Not now for fuck’s sake

He needed to be in control to testify – he couldn’t risk disassociating as much as he really fucking wanted to.

“You doing okay?” PC Huang asked, her voice cold and her straight white teeth looking more bared than smiling.

She probably heard you’re a murderer

Cronus nodded and smoothed out his crumpled statement. He’d read it a million times, but focusing on the words helped him drown out thoughts of Mikey.

The one lad who actually had a kind fucking word to say-

                No. Nope. Not now. My name is Cronus Ampora…

The time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, the tick of the second hand of the clock on the wall coming as slow as if it were dragging itself through treacle.

10 minutes.

20 minutes.

Half an hour-

“Do I have time to go to the loo?” He asked, just as the door opened, and Rutherford re-appeared.

“Show time, ah, as it were.” He said with a tight little smile.

Cronus swallowed. He knew most of the preliminary information and formalities had been dealt with at earlier stages of the trial, but now he suddenly wished he had longer. The tiny little pressure-cooker of a room feeling comfortable and familiar as he was pulled into the hallway and across to the huge courtroom doors.

As they were pulled open Edna was just leaving, and spat full in his face in front of the watching jury as she passed.

Cronus reeled and Rutherford whipped out a handkerchief to wipe his face even as he was being propelled towards the witness stand.

Nonononononononono-

The judge, an imposing elderly British-Pakistani man with wispy white eyebrows and heavily-bagged eyes, nodded at him implacably and a towering skirt-suited woman darted forward to press a bible into his hands and take his oath.

He climbed the few steps to the witness stand on leaden legs – almost stumbling but catching himself on the wooden railing. He knew when he looked up he’d have to see the full two-tiered witness gallery.

“State your full name for the record.”

His throat was suddenly desert-dry.

“Cronus Elliot Ampora.”

“How old are you Cronus?”

“18.”

“Prosecution. You may interrogate the witness.” The judge spoke in short, rasping phrases, for which Cronus was absurdly grateful, as the short questions were easy to answer.

As Pyrope sprang up, Cronus lifted his eyes and found a sea of judgemental eyes looking down on him.

They’ve just had Edna tell them I as good as murdered her son.

There – in the top left hand corner of the higher tier seating sat the Vantas family, with an uncomfortable Latula wedged in beside them.

“To me,” Porrim mouthed and Cronus gave a tiny nod.

His eyes continued to roam the audience – he didn’t dare look at the jury yet – and just as Pyrope began to speak he saw her in the back row.

                Short grey, slicked back hair –

Her face was largely obscured by a pair of oversized sunglasses but there was no mistaking her.

                Viv.

“Mr Ampora?”

Cronus jerked and stammered, “Suh-Sorry?”

“Your statement.” Pyrope said rolling her eyes.

“Uh, yes, um,” he flattened the little slip of paper out in front of him and began to read, his voice becoming a croak and words stuttering between his lips.

He’d barely reached the end of the first paragraph before Pyrope leapt in, firing questions at him about his father – the lads and lasses – their operation – her voice rattling like a machine gun.

When she reached the issue of the murder Edna had bought up, Pyralwski stood up to announce that his client was not on trial. And that was when things started to unravel-

“Cronus.” Pyrope said sharply,  interrupting Pyralwski, “We have had a very serious allegation from our last witness, “Did you, or did you not, shoot a member of a rival gang on the night of the 6^th February?”

“Yes.” Cronus said, and a hush fell over the court.

Too late, Pyralwski slammed his hand on his table and said, “Objection – Ms Pyrope you understand that in UK law any witness has the human right to not self-incriminate on the stand?”

“Bit late for that,” she shot back, raising her voice to talk over the shocked murmurs of the jury and watching crowd, and pointedly not looking at Cronus, who sagged weakly on the stand.

“Pyralwski you acknowledge that children between 10 and 17 are capable of committing offenses?”

“Of course but-”

The judge slammed his gavel into its stand. “Ms Pyrope you need to halt your line of questioning-” he began, his voice thick with fury.

“And you are aware that duress is not a defence for a charge or murder or attempted murder?” She continued over the banging.

“Yes but-“

“Ms Pyrope! Desist.” His Honourable Tyranny snarled, but Pyrope plunged on heedless.

“And you agree that witnesses who incriminate themselves in their testimony should be arrested and made to stand trial?”

Pyralwski stuttered helplessly, spreading his hands in a “what do I do?” motion at the judge and jury.

“Depending on the mitigating factors, Mr Pyralwski, you are aware that your client could stand to face 12 years detention at her majesty’s pleasure for murder?” Pyrope was almost shouting now above the growing susurration of muttering and objections from the courtroom.

 “Ms Pyrope I will hold you in contempt of court.” The judge roared and Pyrope shrugged, crossing her arms.

“Cronus Ampora has admitted to murder, your honour,” She said, loudly enunciating murder, to make sure everyone understood the full implication of Cronus’ admission on the stand. “He should be arrested and bought to trial in his own right!”

Pyrope looked at Cronus directly then, the wide smile on her face nothing if not triumphant.

Cronus felt his insides turn to ice. He sagged a little as his knees gave way and he sat heavily on the stool behind him. In the public gallery Viv grinned broadly, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Human right to not self-incriminate.

                But she told me to confess to everything – she got me a defence lawyer-

As the judge motioned for the jury and crowd to settle down Cronus caught the wink Pyrope threw at Pyralwski and the subtle nod he returned.

                They played me.

Veritas Vos Liberabit.

“Cronus I’m not done with you just yet, please stand.” Pyrope called, as the murmurs died down, and he tried his best, clinging to the rail like a lifeline, his arms and legs visibly shaking.

“Ms Pyrope, given the circumstances, perhaps it’s time to retire this witness and hand him over to the police.” The judge said icily.

“One last question?” She asked, with a cheeky half-smirk, and the he sighed.

“Make it quick.”

“Cronus, do you, or do you not know the identity of the person or persons who have taken over your father’s territory in the Bethnal Green area?”

Cronus raised his head with herculean effort and swallowed down the terrified tears building in his throat.

Viv removed her glasses from her seat in the observation gallery and stared down at him, her face impassive, but her eyes burning with hatred.

Cronus coughed, then looked directly into Pyrope’s eyes.

“No. I don’t.”

Pyrope scowled, and her expression was so childishly petulant that Cronus almost laughed.

                Did you think I would play ball with you after you fucked me over so fucking hard?

“Mr Ampora, in a recorded interview you gave a name and a clear description of the new order of your father’s gang.”

“I was… mistaken.” He said slowly, keeping his eyes locked with Pyrope’s. “There were lots of people vying for the position and I haven’t returned to the area or had any contact with my father’s gang since he was murdered.”

“Mr Ampora, you are aware that lying on the witness stand is a crime?”

Like misleading a teenager into forgoing his human right to not self-incriminate is?

“My father taught me to be honest,” Cronus ground out, finding the strength to speak through his sheer fury at the position Pyrope had put him in, “And I can say with all honesty that I would be misleading the court by giving a specific name when I cannot be sure. I hope the testimony I have already given you on the members of my father’s gang will be helpful in finding the new leader. I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

There was a moment of strained silence, where Cronus could see Pyrope swallowing her fury, and the sudden banging of the judges gavel made Cronus almost jump out of his skin.

“If there are no further questions we will retire this witness into police custody. Mr Ampora, you may step down.”

Cronus nodded, feeling the numbness crawling up from his stomach as PC Huang and two of her colleagues appeared to lead him away. At the last moment he tried to look round to see the Vantas’, but instead saw two things that chilled him to the bone.

Viv, glasses back on her face, shaking with silent laughter in her seat.

And Horuss, sat between his father and a surly east-Asian girl, shock written across his scarred face.

***

Cronus was led back into the little room he’d waited in.

“You’ll have a chance to see your friends and family, and then you’ll be escorted to… probably Charing Cross police station or West End Central… I’ll radio in to see and let you know.” PC Huang said, taking up her position outside the door.

Cronus nodded and sank onto the leather sofa like his bones has been liquefied, finding himself without the energy to even lift his head when the door swung open a moment later.

“Cronus…?”

It was Horuss.

He heaved his head up and found Horuss standing with the surly girl, who eyed him suspiciously and popped her mouthful of bubblegum.

Cronus felt a surge of jealousy seeing them standing together. The girl was standing too close to Horuss, too protectively –

“Uh, this is my step-sister Damara. I’m staying with my step-mum for a bit and she wanted to come along… Sorry. Should’ve warned you I was coming. I just – I just wanted to support you… Cronus?”

Cronus realised he’d just been staring blearily at him.

“Sorry. I. Don’t know what… to say.” He managed weakly.

Horuss strode across the room with three strides and pulled him up into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” he whispered, in direct contradiction to the evidence. The lie still making Cronus feel a little better.

He clutched at Horuss like a lifeline, and failed to control the sob that was torn from his lungs as the bigger lad threaded his fingers through his hair and stroked his back.

“I didn’t know what to do – she told me-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he heaved another sob and Horuss held him tighter.

“If she misled you there’s things you can do – sue her or- or – have her license rescinded or-”

“I’m going to prison,” Cronus said helplessly.

“You only said “yes”,” Horuss’ sister cut in, her tone suggesting the situation was perhaps the most boring of her existence, “That’s not a proper confession. On trial just say you were scared – or made a mistake or something.”

Where Horuss was wearing a suit, Damara wore a vest top emblazoned with the word “kawaii” in pink glitter, a mini-skirt and patent black Doc Martens. Her black hair was swept up into a messy bun, and her choppy fringe fell to her eyes – which were dark and sullen. Cronus didn’t know what to make of her, and didn’t have the energy to try figure her out.

The most he’d heard from Horuss was that she liked to talk to tourists in China Town in a broken Japanese-English accent, while her buddies robbed them. Damara’s behaviour was one of the many reasons Mr Zahak and Damara's mother had broken off their whirlwind-romance-turned-volatile-marriage.

“Cronus?”

Cronus turned slowly. The Vantas’ had arrived. Well, most of them.

Cronus scrubbed his face with his suit-sleeve and took a few watery breaths, disentangling himself somewhat from Horuss, but unable to let go of the big lad’s arm.

“Where’s Mr Vantas?” he asked shakily, as Diti, Porrim and Kankri edged into the little room.

“Having a screaming row with that snake of a lawyer in the foyer.” Porrim said, her eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. “We should’ve looked it up – the law – we should’ve known-”

“We trusted her. It’s natural – she’s in a position of authority and we’re trained to trust people like that.” Diti said wearily. “Cronus they can only hold you for 24 hours and then you should be released on bail until your trial since you’re not a danger to anyone.”

                Just girls in street gangs with purple lips and bar owners who are behind on their payments-

Cronus winced and clutched harder at Horuss.

“I take law.” Kankri said hollowly. “I take law and I didn’t even fucking realise-” he cut himself off and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry – I-” he stammered, and Cronus laughed, needing any excuse to vocalise some of the rage and fear and pain brewing inside him.

Horuss held him again and Diti suddenly grabbed at her pocket, withdrawing a buzzing phone.

“Abba’s been thrown out of the court house for causing a scene.” She said with a sigh, “kids, can you go meet him outside? I’ll stay with Cronus until he’s taken away.”

Kankri and Porrim lingered to ask Horuss if he was feeling better – he said he was doing fine, and his step-sister butted in to say he’d tanked up on pain-killers before coming to the court – and that he’d probably have to be knocked out tomorrow for doing something so stupid as leaving his bed so soon after the attack.

At that Horuss could only grin sheepishly and shrug, and Kankri shook his hand for coming to support Cronus. Porrim hugged him warmly - a gesture that might’ve cheered Cronus up if he wasn’t trying so hard to hold himself together.

Both gave Cronus a hug too, and then they were gone.

Cronus blinked. Had they said goodbye or-?

Come on, don’t lose it just yet – you can disappear as much as you like once you’re in prison…

“Well, this is boring, no offense,” Horuss’ sister said with another obnoxious pop of her gum. “I hope they get you off the charges. You seem…. Alright. I guess. …Bye.”

She left with a dramatic flip of her fringe, almost colliding with the entering policeman.

“Time to go matey.” He policeman said, wielding a pair of handcuffs menacingly, but pausing to speak softly to Diti. “It’ll be Charing Cross police station – the details are all here.” He said kindly, handing her a pamphlet.

The cuffs felt reassuringly cold on Cronus’ fevered skin, and the policeman wasn’t unnecessarily rough. Still, it wasn’t a good feeling – surrendering control of his body to someone who saw him as a heinous criminal.

“Good luck Cronus,” Diti said softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead and touching his cheek lightly. “I’ll make sure the police have all our contact details and we’ll come by the station the second you’re released. You’ve come this far, and we’re with you all the way. Remember: be the best Cronus you can be. Don’t worry about being an Ampora for now.”

Cronus nodded dumbly, and blinked away his tears.

Diti slipped out, and it was just Horuss and the policeman left.

The policeman sighed. “Oh alright - I’ll give you a moment alone, but make it quick, yeah? Thirty seconds. I’m counting.”

He stepped out and pulled the door shut, and Cronus suddenly felt awkward.

He wanted to reach out for Horuss but his arms were pinioned firmly behind his back. And Horrus suddenly wouldn’t meet his eye.

Why – ? Oh.

“Look Horuss I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before – about what I did I mean – you must think-”

Before he could finish the sentence Horuss has closed the gap between them.

“That can wait.” He said, his deep voice curiously gruff, “This can’t.”

Before Cronus could ruminate on what he meant, Horuss leaned in and captured his mouth in a soft kiss, dispelling every swirling thought in Cronus’ mind.

Horuss’ lips were soft and warm and the scruff of his stubble provided delicious friction. The smell of soap and sweat and cologne was intoxicating – and as Horuss wrapped his arms around him – just then, for a moment – he felt safe and-

Horuss pulled back.

“Is that – was that alright – of – of me to do, I mean – do you-?”

Cronus just stared at him.

“Cronus?”

“Yeah. Uh, yes. Good. Uh.”

Horuss grimaced, “Maybe now wasn’t the best time. I just-”

Cronus leaned into him and Horuss put his arms back round him gently.

“Look… Let me get through… whatever’s going to happen, and sort out what’s in my head,“ Cronus whispered, “And then I should probably tell you everything I’ve done. And then you can decide if you want to do that again.”

“Deal,” Horuss whispered back, kissing him softy on the forehead.

 “A-hem.” The police officer rapped on the door theatrically, and they parted. “You can walk ‘Im to the van with us, but then you’ve gotta go home, alright?” He said to Horuss, who nodded, taking Cronus’ other arm as the policeman began to steer him from the room.

Tuesday

Cronus was held in the Charing Cross police cells overnight, with no word about what was happening, or where his defence lawyer was.

He slept fitfully on the stupid little bench-bed – still in his crumpled suit and sweat-stained shirt, and picked miserably at the soggy egg sarnie proffered to him in the morning.

Finally, just before he thought he would go mad, the hatch to his cell opened and a pair of red-tinted glasses appeared in the gap.

“Wotcha Cronus.” Pyrope said cheerfully, shoving a crumpled Metro through the hatch, “You made front-page news.”

Cronus snatched up the newspaper.

Smooth Criminal

Cronus Ampora, son of the Orphaner, admits to murder on the stand, is escorted to police car by hunky boyfriend.

The picture showed him being walked down to the police car, leaning into Horuss for protection from the paparazzi. Horuss had a protective arm around him and glared daggers down the camera lens at the audience.

Oh for fuck’s sake -

“Smooth criminal? Hunky? What sort of shitty journalism -?" He began, blustering half with indignation and half because he was trying not to think about Horuss' lips on his own, "This makes it look like Horuss is part of the gang! That’s not fair to him-”

He paused mid-rant and scowled.

“Wait. No. This is a distraction isn’t it –? Fuck you. You played me.”

“Like a fiddle,” Pyrope agreed. “And you’re right. The newspaper ruse was a… distraction. Yes. Look we need to talk but I need a guarantee that you won’t just give me a knuckle sandwich when I open this door.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Cronus spat, the crick in his spine from his night in the cells not improving his feelings towards Pyrope. Which were murderous to begin with.

“Cronus I’m the only one standing between you and hard prison time.” Pyrope sighed theatrically, then added, “Which, by the way, you do legally deserve to do.”

Cronus swallowed. She was right. Even if her methods were shockingly illegal for someone who purportedly upheld the law…

Wait no – not the law… just her personal ideal of justice. Which allow her to fully justify locking you up and throwing away the fucking key. Clearly. So watch yourself.

“You can… get me off the charges?” He asked, aiming for meek, but only managing tired.

“Let’s discuss it over some tea shall we?” Pyrope asked, calling over an orderly to unlock the cell door. “They’ve got custard creams – my favourite.”

“So why did you make me incriminate myself- or whatever it’s called.” Cronus asked warily, flinching as an industriously-dunked custard cream sent tea splashing across the table between Pyrope and himself.

“Self-incrimination. When a witness admits to committing a crime on the stand.” She said lazily, licking out the inside of her biscuit obscenely.

“Yeah.” Cronus ground out the words, trying not to let her theatrical easiness get to him. “Why would you do that to me?”

“Cronus this is bigger than you.” She said frankly, scarfing down the rest of her biscuit before regarding him coolly, “It sounds cold but I can’t prioritise the life of one teenager – one murderer of a teenager, against the chance to crush the mob presence in all of the east end.”

Cronus just stared at her blankly. So what did she want? He was so tired…

“We need you to get a taped confession from Viv– by the way fuck you very much for lying to me on the stand about her. Very mature.”

“You just said I was going to prison for twelve years –“

“Anyway,” Pyrope slapped her hand on the table to silence him. “When I say confession I mean you will wear a wire and record her saying something incriminating. You can get close to her.” She paused, then spoke down to her teacup, “If you can do the same with a certain French tart over in the East India docks we’ll get any charges against you dropped. Which would obviate the need for further public trial too, natch.”

“I…. I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Viv’ll kill me. Or Spinny will. I’m gunna die. For real this time.

“Nope. Veritas Vos Liberabit.”

The latin phrase was the last straw.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He yelled, pounding the table with his fist.

“The truth shall set ye free.” Pyrope said calmly, waving back the police officer who had raised his baton at the outburst. “Or in this case, keep you free. Since the other option is carcerem.”

***

Once the deal had been made and the paperwork signed, Cronus was told he was being released and the police organised-crime team would be in contact. He was told his next-of-kin had been contacted, so he went outside to wait, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking and head was pounding for want of nicotine.

It was a grey, drizzly day so he pulled his jacket tighter around himself and sat huddled on the police station steps as cold rainwater dripped down his back.

As he stared at the ground a pair of huge hot-pink platform heels stepped into his field of vision.

“You look like a drowned rat darlin’” someone drawled above him.

Cronus looked up into the Empress’ fake eyelash-lined eyes.

“Well don’t just sit there, we’ve got a job to do, ain’t we?”

Chapter Text

Tuesday

Empress had escorted Cronus to her reinforced limousine and instructed the driver to take them straight home. Before he could call the Vantas’, she plucked the little bag with his personal effects in and slid it into her handbag.

“Jus’ being cautious babes.” She said with a dangerous smile when Cronus reached out instinctively for the bag. “You can make a phonecall later, aiight?”

“Alright.” He whispered faintly, then, because at this point he didn’t care about consequences he added, “How did you find me?”

Empress snorted and tapped out a beat with one gold-embossed nail, “Oh please little fishie, as if you could hide from me, got me a fly hacker who helps me see, all cus’ that’s the way I ball, in this business gotta keep grindin’ or you’ll fall-“

Empress paused and wrinkled her nose, “Never been good at freestylin’. Anyway yeah my peeps saw the news report and figured it could only be one of about five police stations you could’ve been taken to innit. Then got my hacker to shortcut those police station’s internal systems to find you. Pretty easy to change their contact details so they’d call me. Not… whoever you’ve been stayin’ with.”

She sniffed again, this time angrily, “Family not good enough for you eh?”

“That’s not…  uh, didn’t wanna annoy Meenah,” he protested feebly, but it seemed to work as Empress’ face split into a wide grin, her teeth pearly white against glossy pink-tinted links.

“Aiight, I’ll give you that. She’s well pissed off. But we look out for each other, don’t we?”

“…Yeah. Thanks.” Cronus managed a queasy smile and Empress ruffled his hair. He wondered if she’d be quite so affectionate if she found out about the deal with Pyrope…

Empress lived in a swanky high-rise apartment in Farringdon. As with much of the Square Mile, everything was steel and glass – but Empress’ apartment was trimmed with clunky gold furnishings that seemed out of place…. Empress liked what Empress liked, and no one was about to argue with her taste, least of all an interior designer.

“Hi. You look shit.” Meenah said, when he stepped in the doorway. She was lounging in the open plan living room/ kitchen-diner area. There was a sunken TV area replete with white leather sofas and leopard-print throws. Meenah was curled at the end of one, texting while MTV played silently on the screen before her - which much have been at least 50 inches across. She barely looked up except to insult Cronus, then went back to her texting.

She was the spitting image of her mother, except where Empress had impossibly long, flowing Mediterranean-black hair, Meenah’s Nigerian father had given her springy, tightly-curled hair that she preferred to wear in two thick plaits, tightly bound to her scalp. They had the same round faces and same wide cheekbones, however – apparently Cronus’ family genes were the dominant ones no matter what…

He tried to shake the ever-present thought that he’d never truly escape his father – as he saw him in every reflective surface he passed, while Empress kicked off her garish boots and snapped her fingers at her daughter.

“Meenah babes, up and at’em. Show your cuz where he’s sleeping and bundle ‘im in the shower, yeah?” Empress said, making a beeline for the spiral staircase in the corner of the room that had to lead up to a bedroom or office. She was curiously short without her boots yet still managed to give the impression of looming over everyone in the room…

After Empress had disappeared upstairs her thickset driver threw himself down on the sofa opposite Meenah - and Cronus jumped when two bodyguards seemed to materialise out of the walls to lurk by the kitchen area.

One was white, with ginger hair and a smattering of freckles, the other an Asian man with a bored expression on his heavily-scarred face.

“Meenah. Mum said -” the ginger man began tentatively and Meenah cut him off.

“I got ears, ain’t I?” She huffed and slipped her phone into her bra. “Fine. Come with me.”

She leapt up from the sofa and stalked towards the hallway behind the kitchen area.

“Well, are you coming?” she snapped, and Cronus almost tripped over himself in his haste to follow her.

At the end of the hallway was one door obnoxiously marked up with skull-and-crossbones “keep out” signs and pictures of scary looking metal bands.

“That’s my room,” Meenah explained redundantly, then shoved open the adjacent door.

“And this –“ she tugged him inside, “is your room. Now.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Cronus mumbled, looking around at the huge room in awe.

This was her wardrobe??

There was a bed and nightstand, a beech wood wardrobe and chest of drawers – and a pile of boxes and Styrofoam packing peanuts that suggested they had been procured and assembled not long ago.

A huge mirror adorned one wall, and the bed was made up with beautiful white sheets and huge pillows and –

“Is that my guitar?” Cronus whispered, hardly daring to hope.

Meenah shrugged, “Yeah. Mum got some of her cronies to sneak it outta your old house. Wasn’t easy but family’s family and all that.”

She didn’t sound too convinced.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom through there – got you a bunch of towels and shower gels and shit… mum got Benoit to pick you out a wardrobe too. ‘Ee’s good actually. You should like it. So…”

Cronus had barely been listening, just staring at his guitar propped up on the pillows of the bed.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. Really – thanks,” he said, looking in Meenah’s cold black eyes as earnestly as he could, “It, uh, means a lot to me. Sorry about your wardrobe…”

Mennah huffed again, but then looked at her feet bashfully, apparently mollified by his awestruck tone.

“Yeah, well. Your dad snuffed it, didn’t ‘ee? Gotta help out. …Anyway imma go back and watch my programs. And deal with this bitch,” she motioned to the phone in her bra and Cronus nodded helplessly.

He didn’t know who the “bitch” was and he didn’t care.

“Uh right. Yeah. I should shower. I look like shit right?”

Meenah snorted.

“Right.”

Cronus shut the door behind him, then looked across the vast expanse of cream carpet.

The room was twice the size of the one he’d had at home. And four times the size of the Vantas’ living room…

He realised with a pang that he didn’t know if he’d get to go back there – to sleep on the lumpy sofa, or get under Porrim’s feet as she tried to tidy up, or have Kankri make him a cup of tea…

He swallowed the lump in his throat and kicked off his shoes before walking slowly across the carpet, sinking his toes deep into the deep pile with every step as though it could ground him. When he reached the bed he found he didn’t want to sit down on its inviting mattress, and could barely look at his guitar, so instead he beat a hasty retreat to the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom was set up so the shower and the sink area faced one other. So Cronus saw himself reflected in the mirror as he silently cried and hugged himself as hot water beat down over his head and shoulders in the shower.

He let himself imagine it was Horuss’ strong arms wrapped around him…

My Mikey’s dead cos of you!

I hope you and your lot all go rot in the tanty for the rest of your rotten lives-

He allowed himself a few sobs, then pulled himself together enough to scrub himself raw with Imperial Leather shower gel. He couldn’t think about Mikey now. He couldn’t think about Edna’s anguish, or the anguish of the purple-lipped girl whose name he’d never known –

                Stop.

                Look forward, not back.

He remembered a phrase from a fantasy book he’d read a while back (ok, not read, but listened to on audiobook. Same difference): If I look back I’m lost. It seemed particularly pertinent right now.

                Get through the days ahead; the task at hand. After that there will be time for whatever breakdown it is you’re repressing right now…

Once out of the shower he cleaned his teeth with the brand new toothbrush left for him on the marble countertop and combed him hair.

Cronus dared to glance up at himself in the mirror once he was wrapped up in the fluffiest towels he’d ever encountered. His face was a little puffy but it would do. The ghost of his father smiled weakly back at him.

He found pants and socks neatly folded in the chest of drawers and – balking at the sight of dress-shirts and suit trousers hanging in the wardrobe – found a plain (though designer) tshirt and some trackie bottoms on the bottom of the dresser that made him feel comfortable.

Finally, once he felt a bit more human he confronted the guitar.

It was his all right. There was the exact pattern of wear on the fretboard that his fingers had worn away over years of playing. The exact dent where it’d dropped off his bed when the lads and lasses had attacked him that night. The exact little etching of “cronus a” he’d made when he’d first got it on his fourteenth birthday. He picked it up gently, almost cradling as he breathed in the wood and tangy metal scent. It smelled like home.

He adjusted his grip so as to play a chord…

Then walked to the wardrobe and carefully put it in the back, behind the foreboding suits, and shut the door tight.

***

Cronus woke from a much needed nap to the sound of rapping at the door.

“Oi Cronus.”

He was too tired to even jump, just sat up and stared blankly at the bodyguard in the doorway. A new one – an older woman with lined leathery skin and an awful perm.

“Empress sez if you’re ready you should come up for dinner.”

It was the last thing he wanted, still, it was the task at hand.

“Okay.”

“Ain’t you gunna eat anything?” Empress said, after watching Cronus push Chinese takeout around on his plate for ten minutes.

Cronus started, he hadn’t realised he was being watched – what with both cousin and auntie engrossed in their phones. (In Empress’ case it was literally phones – he had five different ones laid out before her that she was taking it in turns to use, while eating with her free hand).

Meenah looked up, her mouth full of noodles and spoke thickly,

“Called it. “Eating disorder or drugs” I sed. You looked dead sick at your trial and all the papers are talking about how you OD’d or something right before it.” She jabbed at Cronus with her chopsticks for emphasis and he scowled back.

“No – what? No I’m just – I haven’t had a smoke in a day and a half. And I never OD’d. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He took an obnoxiously huge bite of egg fried rice then immediately regretted it as it turned to eggy sludge in his mouth and he had no choice but to choke it down.

Empress snorted, “You ain’t smokin’ while you’re with me darlin’. A little detox will be good for you in the long run.” Cronus looked at her, dismayed, but she continued, “And some guy who used to be your college counsellor-person was apparently caught on camera after the trial – ravin’ about how the lawyer had no right to trick you like she did – said you were vulnerable and you’d tried to off yourself or something. That true?”

Cronus swallowed. Mr Vantas wouldn’t –

                a screaming row with that snake of a lawyer in the foyer

                                thrown out of the court house for causing a scene -

He sighed. Mr Vantas could get riled up. He might have said more than he meant to in his fury at Pyrope.

“I didn’t try to – look I got drunk. I’m 18 I’m allowed to get drunk.”

“Sure,” Empress said with a shrug. “But no smoking under my roof. And clean your damn plate. Aleesha went all the way to the good Chinese for this. The one that’s too fancy to deliver. Fuckin’ appreciate the effort, yeah?”

Cronus wanted to argue but Empress was eyeballing him, and Meenah’s eating disorder comment had stung a little. So he didn’t eat much. So what? No need to stick a fucking label on it…

Dinner was uncomfortable with both women watching him so closely, but he managed to force down the plateful. And once he’d cleaned his plate to Empress’ satisfaction she surprised him by pulling his phone out of her jacket pocket and handing it over.

“You can make a few calls while Jin sorts out some pudding and fixes me a drink. You’re staying here though, darlin’. Anything you have to say can be said in front of me.”

Cronus nodded, noticing that Meenah had lifted her phone again so as to seem disinterested – but wasn’t touching the screen, so she was probably going to listen in, too.

So be it.

He called Mr Vantas first, putting the phone to his good ear. Vantas picked up after two rings.

“Cronus – Cronus are you okay? We called the station and they said you’d been released-”

“It’s okay Kai,” He used his first name so Empress didn’t have his full name… although her hacker would probably get her that information soon enough. The name felt unnatural in his mouth, and Mr Vantas seemed to sense something was off, because he lowered his voice.

“Where are you?”

“With my auntie.” The important thing was to keep his voice cheery, no matter what Vantas said -

“Shit.”

“She picked me up from jail and took me to her flat. It’s really nice.” And I can’t tell you where it is.

“Okay, okay. Fuck. Okay.” Mr Vantas took a deep breath, “She’s listening to you talk isn’t she?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Cronus leaned back in his chair in what he hoped was a casual sort of way.

“Okay… well I’d better tell – uh – our Arsenal-loving friend to take his brother on holiday somewhere very far away. She’ll find us if she hasn’t already. And I can’t risk her finding him.”

“Yeah she’s being lovely. Gave me my own room and everything,” Cronus said, trying to keep his tone light. I don’t think she means you harm. Can’t vouch for Si though.

“Does she think you’re living with her forever? What about when you go to court, will she be there for you? God – Cronus – does she want you to work for her?”

“Yes; I don’t think so; yes. In that order. So… bummer really, but what can you do?” He laughed softly, even though the strain of trying to hold an acceptable conversation in front of his auntie was making his too-full stomach cramp.

“Is that Cronus? Can I talk to him?” Porrim asked in the background.

“Not right now,” Mr Vantas answered distractedly, “What happened at the jail? Do you have a court date yet?”

“It’s… all a bit complicated, but no – not yet.” He accidently caught Empress’ eye and looked away quickly.

Shit, shit – don’t panic, it’s fine, she can’t read minds for fucks sake.

“Okay, well, can you come visit us before then? Will your auntie let you out..?”

“I don’t think so.” Cronus couldn’t say anything he wanted too, but he also didn’t want the conversation to end, so he just listened to Mr Vantas thinking for a moment.

“Okay, well, assuming you’re allowed to use your phone-“

“Sometimes, yeah.” Although who knows when I’ll get it back after this.

“Well, whenever you have it – give us a call and update us, and in the meantime I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of there.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Porrim took the phone, “Cronus – you’re a bloody grown up. Tell your aunt you want to get your own flat or something-”

“Doesn’t work like that.” He said, cutting her off sharply. No point getting anyone’s hopes up, least of all his own, “Talk to you later.” He said, in a softer tone, then hung up.

Empress immediately stuck out her hand for the phone.

How the fuck is Pyrope gunna get a hold of me? She’ll think I’ve skipped bail. She’ll send me down so hard…

Get through the raid on Viv. Then deal with that issue. For now -

“One more?” He asked, with what he hoped was an endearing smile.

“Ugh fine,” Empress said rolling her eyes and taking a long sip from the cocktail Jin put before her. “Who knew you were so popular?” Meenah snorted under her breath, but Cronus was already dialling Horuss’ number.

“Hey,” He began, trying to sound casual – but Horuss immediately cut him off with a stream of questions.

“Cronus! Where are you? Kankri said you disappeared from jail – “

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just staying with family for a while.”

“Family – who?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re staying with your step-mum right now aren’t you?”

“Yeah-”

“Great, where’s she based? Roughly?”

“She lives right by Leicester Square but-”

“Awesome, that’s sounds great.”

The farther away from the East End you are, the better. As for Mr Zahak-

“Will your dad visit you?”

He could almost hear Horuss’ frown from the other side of the phone.

Come on chief, please realise what’s going on – you really need to understand the message…

“Probably not, I mean, they had quite a bad divorce – he really doesn’t agree with her work and-”

“Yeah he should, he should. Hopefully soon!” Cronus barrelled on, laughing happily as though Horuss had said “yes”.

Please get the fucking message. Pease get your dad out of the East End. If we don’t do it tonight it’ll be tomorrow.

“Uh, Cronus, are you um, drunk or something?” Horuss asked faltering, taken aback by the strange responses.

“Look, I can’t talk much right now, but don’t worry about me – and I can’t wait to see the pictures of your dad sight-seeing in the West End. Take him to a musical or something!” He wasn’t sure if he sounded cheery or just strained and manic anymore. The fact that Horuss thought he was drunk suggested the latter.

“Uh… okay… wait hang on you mean – somethings going to happen in Bethnal Green isn’t it?”

Oh thank the fucking lord.

“Absolutely. Alright, talk later!”

“Wh – no wait Cronus- talk to me – please tell me you aren’t –“

Cronus hung up and handed the phone back to Empress, who grinned.

“Now I know you were doing the ol’ “fake conversation” thing, but you ain’t half bad at it. Elias taught you well hmm?”

Cronus consciously forced his face to remain blank.

Empress laughed, “Oh don’t try an’ pull the wool over my eyes – you can’t kid a kidder!”

When Cronus didn’t respond she just shrugged and downed the rest of her cocktail.

“Meenah’s having some cheesecake biz Aleesha picked up in M&S. Want some?”

“I’m full, thanks.” Cronus said, hoping Meenah wouldn’t comment.

She didn’t; her mouth was already full of cheesecake.

“You can ‘ave tonight to sleep and sort yourself out.” Empress said, tapping away on one of her phones. “We’re going in tomorrow, so tomorrow mornin’ I’m sendin’ you to talk to the French bird to brief her on what’s up – you get me?”

Cronus swallowed. Spinerette. Ok, he could handle that.

“Oh – and Makara’s bringin’ his lot in to help – so the big man might be chillin’ here when you get back. Don’t freak out and embarrass me. He’s chill.”

Spinerette and Viv and fucking Makara all in one day?

Great. Yep. Fine. He could handle it. Fine.

“Can I go to bed?” He croaked, trying not to show how close he was to hyperventilating.

“It’s 8 o clock” Meenah said scornfully. “Come watch a movie or something like a normal human.”

“Meenah.” Empress snapped. “He’s had a stressful few days - leave the boy alone. If ‘ee wants to go to bed he can.”

“No it’s… I had a nap, I’ll watch a film.” Cronus muttered, feeling himself slipping as trepidation at talking to Spinerette and outright terror at facing Makara again began to set in.

“Hey look at me a sec.” Empress snapped her fingers and Cronus turned to look at her.

She examined him with narrow eyes, then leant back, folding her arms.

“…Maybe there wos somethin’ to those tabloid rumours, you know. You can’t smoke but I’ll get you to see Meenah’s therapist A-sap. She’s the best money can buy. Really helped with Meenah’s anger issues-“

“Mum oh my god!” Meenah slammed her fork down and buried her face in her hands.

“Hey – just tellin’ the boy he’s not alone. Have some fuckin’ empathy.” She turned to Cronus and put her phone down to give him her full attention, a rare honour. “Look babes, our family’s prone to the crazies. And you don’t get into this line of work without it having some sort of effect. We’ll get you sorted out - but in the meantime no drugs, no smoking, and you make sure you get enough food and sleep, you hear me? Need my soldiers fightin’ fit, and my little nephew feelin’ like he’s got people he can trust. Family he can trust, aiight?”

“Uh yeah, thanks.” Cronus’ head was spinning. He had already found a place where he could trust people and feel safe. He had already found a family. And Empress had taken him away from them…

***

Meenah put on Battle Royale, which seemed to amuse her no end – she cackled as many of the children died and yelled comments like “no you idiot” and “yes Mitsuko - kill her – kill her!”. Cronus curled on the other sofa and dozed, letting his mind wander.

Maybe it was the film, or his mental state, but after an hour or so he opened his eyes and clearly saw a man’s body lying face-up on the carpet. He was wearing a crumpled grey suit and his blond hair was wispy and receding. He had a single neat bullet wound beneath his left eye, and a spreading pool of gore was soaking through into the cream carpet.

                Wait, wasn’t this carpet pink-?

He glanced over at Meenah. The movie had finished and her face was lit by the blue screen of the television and the white light of her phone. She was texting away industriously and didn’t seem to notice the bleeding body on the floor.

When he looked back the body was his father’s; the stylishly-tailored pinstripe suit dishevelled, and the usually groomed black hair array. Cronus couldn’t take his eyes away from the hole in his father’s head. From the brains and blood sinking into the carpet.

His dad’s mouth was still open – the ghost of his incipient warning stuck forever in his throat-

“Oi cuz, you alright? You’ve been staring at that carpet like a div for about ten minutes.”

Cronus blinked and the body disappeared, melting back into the – once again- garish pink carpet.

“Uh yeah, m’fine. And you shouldn’t say div. It’s offensive.” He mumbled, thinking of Mr Vantas’ “We’re coming back to how you just referred to your classmate”, Porrim’s “Can you try and not be so horrendous a fuck up for like, one day?”, and Kankri’s crossed arms and pursed lips whenever he said anything inappropriate.

Meenah just snorted.

“Yeah whatevs. Anyway I’m going to bed – you should too. You gotta go charm the Marquise in the morning.” She shuddered theatrically.

Cronus shuddered too, then followed her down the corridor to their bedrooms, conking out the second his head touched his pillow.

Wednesday

Empress called Cronus into her office to discuss strategy over breakfast.

While they waited for it to be bought up by whoever “Frankie” was, Empress made a few phone calls and checked messages on each of her five phones – one of which she scowled at, then removed the sim and crushed it in her teeth, before throwing the offending handset to smash against the wall.

Cronus new better than to ask, and besides he was barely paying attention. He’d been transfixed by a framed photo on her desk ever since he’d sat down.

The picture showed two and three year old Meenah and Cronus in a paddling pool on a hot summer’s day. They were in someone’s back garden – whose it was, Cronus had no idea, but the two children wore their swimming clothes. Meenah was resplendent in a pink frilly cossie, while Cronus wore purple swimming shorts and a vest. They were clearly engaged in some sort of make-believe game as Cronus held a magic wand, and Meenah had a crown balanced on top of her curly hair.

The children’s faces were stretched into delighted smiles, and they were clearly meant to be the focus of the picture, but Cronus couldn’t take his eyes off the background figures.

 Behind the paddling pool his father – a younger, more carefree version of his father, before his face had been scarred – sat in a plastic garden chair. He was smiling too – not at the children but at the beautiful woman in his lap. She had dark Mediterranean skin, long tumbling black hair and soft, kindly eyes. Cronus’ mother.

He hadn’t seen a picture of his mother in about ten years. The last time was when he found one in a storage space in the loft – his father had confiscated it immediately. What his father actually did with all the photos and reminders of his mum, Cronus hadn’t known, but their house had been devoid of her presence for as long as he could remember. And here she was.

“Good picture innit?” Empress said softly, picking it up and touching the glass gently. “You and Meenah always played together – we used to say you two were the King and Queen of the world… and Meenah always insisted she was the King.” Empress laughed softy, “This was right after her dad fucked back off to Abuja to start up a legitimate business. Couldn’t handle the mob stuff. Loser.”

She scowled briefly, then touched over the woman in the picture.

“That’s my mum, isn’t it?” Cronus croaked, startled by the longing that had crept up his throat.

“Yes babes.” Empress said, her voice curiously soft, “My little sister… I always told her your dad was a rum’un, but she loved ‘im so much… and ‘ee loved her. I could see it. Knew ‘ee’d do anythin’ to keep her safe.”

Cronus was suddenly struck by a thought.

“I thought she died because of complications in childbirth-?“

“I…” Empress hesitated, then put the picture frame back down carefully before speaking in a low, clam voice, “Your father didn’t deal very well with her death. And I didn’t react in the right way to his grief. We very nearly tore the family apart between us. I don’t know what ‘ee told you – or led you to believe or whatever – but I’m sure he was only tryin’ to protect you.”

“When did she-” A million questions were suddenly pushing their way up Cronus’ throat.

“A week after this picture.”

“How-?”

“Shhh. Not now darlin’.” Empress laid a hand on his, her long gold nails like the claws of some mythical creature. “We’ll have a talk at some point, I promise. But just in case it’s never been said before: your muvva’s death wasn’t anythin’ to do with you. And she loved you very much. And you and Meen were fucking adorable when you were little. Jus’ sayin’.” She laughed and clicked the intercom on her desk.

“If I don’t have breakfast in the next ten seconds-”

The door swung open and the ginger bodyguard – Frankie - bought in the breakfast tray, grinning a little sheepishly.

“I – it sounded like you wos having an important conversation.”

“How sweet of you, Franks.” Empress purred, “Listen at my door again though, and I’ll ‘ave you lowered slowly into boilin’ water, you get me?”

By the look of constipated terror on his freckled face, he did.

***

Cronus fidgeted in his seat on the Central line. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and another designer tshirt courtesy of Benoit, with a grey hoody over the top – which was no doubt as designer as the rest of his wardrobe. The clothes were fashionable, no doubt, but they hadn’t been broken in, so they were stiff, with itchy labels and unfamiliar textures.

Empress wouldn’t risk revealing herself yet, so she was staying put – leaving Cronus to take the tube into the heart of Serket’s territory.

Central line to Bank, then DLR to Canary Wharf.

Easy-peasy whispered Diti’s voice in his mind.

Empress had verbal and written (well, texted) confirmation that Cronus would face no harm if he entered Spinerette’s territory between 10am and 3pm that day – and the Marquise “may or may not deign to grant him an audience”.

“Uppity Tart” Empress had snorted when she’d read that. “Better get going kiddo, no time like the present an’ all that.”

It was 9:48pm and Cronus was remembering why he’d always hated the Central line; the tube carriages were curved round – like literal tubes – in a way no other line’s carriages were.

This didn’t cause any more congestion (although there was plenty), or make it uncomfortable for tall people to stand up – no, the problem was the windows. Sat on his creaking cushioned seat and staring into a curved glass window Cronus watched in fascinated horror as his reflection stretched until his eyes were huge empty tunnels – no wait, they were small, almost invisible, but his mouth cut a terrible ear-to-ear slash in his face – no wait, his features were shunted down to the lower half of his face and his hair sprouted like the horns of a demon from a bulbous forehead.

He blinked the way he would to dispel a hallucination, but the horrible mutations continued in the glass, every bump of the track, every slight movement he made, caused his face to warp and stretch until he looked more monster than man.

Having his face – his identity erased like that was –

It was oddly comforting.

He changed at Bank to the DLR and began to run through the instructions Empress had given him regarding Spinny as the view from the high-up rail line began to change from residential to industrial, to dockyard.

“Tell ‘er what we’re doin’ today. Tell ‘er she doesn’t have to contribute bodies if she doesn’t want to – we’ve got enough with Makara’s lot- don’t tell her Makara is involved, obvs. Tell her that once Viv is gone she’s my number one pick to take over your dad’s patch – since she knows it so well anyway.

“Of course if she agrees she has to fall under my rule. She’s been playin’ a lone-wolf pirate-style vibe for a long time. But if I give her this patch she gives me a cut of the profits, fair’s fair.

“There are a few ways this can go down:

• She can agree.
• She can agree and then down the line refuse to pay me. I’ll have ‘er killed.
• She can disagree and then try take over whoever I put in Viv’s place. I’ll have ‘er killed.
• She can disagree and keep up doing her thing in the East India Docks. I’m not interested in her biz to be honest. She can keep it; I’ll let ‘er live.

Now it’s up to you to see what she’ll pick – obvs nudge her towards 1 or 4. Our only prob would arise if she went for option 5) Agree or disagree, then run to Viv to tell her everythin’. If that happens Viv’ll have time to prepare – an’ may skip town. We’d be fucked.

“Make sure she isn’t thinking of picking 5 – and if you have even the slightest inkling that she is, let me know so I can-“

“-have her killed?”

“You got it babes.”

“This stop is West India Quay, change here for northbound services to Stratford via Poplar. Next stop will be Canary Wharf.”

Cronus shook himself out of his reverie. Here we go.

He tugged his hood up as he stepped off the train st Canary Wharf – too many business and lawyer types around these parts. They’d know of the Ampora case – and at any rate, his face had been plastered all over the news for the last two days. No point in drawing attention to himself.

He trotted down the staircase and looked about him. Spinny’s chosen rendezvous point was the Costa to be found in the large Canary Wharf shopping centre the DLR spat him out in - but the first shop he saw when he reached shopping-centre level was a Starbucks…

He glanced in anyway, as he found himself paranoid that the sender had sent the wrong chain coffee shop name, then found Costa on a map - a floor down in the maze of glass storefronts and escalators.

By the time he found it he was sweating, his heart thumping a million beats a minute.

There’s so many people –

                I swear they’re looking at me, they know –

“Yoo-hoo Cheri!” he spun round clumsily and there she was, stirring an iced coffee lazily and half-reading a paperback.

Spinerette was wearing her usual floppy wide-brimmed hat, but had opted for business apparel with her blond hair twisted into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck, and an elegant black trouser-suit accentuated with a thin red belt at her waist and red platform stilettoes on her feet.

“Salut Cronus,” she said, puckering up her collagen-enhanced lips to blow an air kiss at him.

“Hi,” he said, as coolly as possible. Which, as it turns out, wasn’t much at all.

“Let me finish my coffee, then I’ll take you to my office to talk,” Spinerette said, flashing newly-bleached teeth at him. “Come sit down – or order yourself a drink – I have a tab set up under “Serket” if you’d like?”

Cronus considered. The caffeine might make him jumpy… but the nicotine-headache boring into his skull needed alleviating somehow.

He picked up a Cappuccino to go and turned to find Spinny uncomfortably close behind him, her plastic breasts pushing lightly into his right shoulder. She’d come up from his right side, he realised, so he hadn’t heard a thing.

Being so easily snuck up upon suddenly made him wished he’d seen a doctor about his deaf right ear, but it was a bit late now…

“Let’s go, hmm, Cheri?”

“Uh… yeah. Allons-y.” He tried, furiously trying to remember as much of French class as possible.

She laughed, her breath hot and bitterly coffee-laced. The insides of her teeth were stained and yellow, he noticed.

“Allons-y indeed.”

***

Serket walked them out into the main square, then down along the riverside until they reached a tiny little jetty. A gruff redhead woman ferried them across the river to a dilapidated warehouse – every second of which Cronus spent with his eyes pressed tightly shut, gripping the edge of the little boat as though half expecting it to tip him in.

The further he was from the DLR station – and his freedom – the more uncomfortable he felt, but the warehouse seemed to be the last stop.

Inside, rows of workers were sorting through piles of knockoff clothes and handbags, checking them over for – what? Stains? Irregularities beyond what was already irregular? – Before carefully packaging them in clear plastic display bags. Stone-faced supervisors stood at the end of each row – several of which threw salutes at Spinerette when they saw her enter.

“Don’t worry about les souris - come through to my quarters.” Spinny said, impatiently tugging at Cronus’ arm when he stopped to watch the operation.

Something niggled at him, but he didn’t have a chance to examine the thought before he was in Spinny’s backroom, on the other side of a wide mahogany desk.

“So. Your auntie’s the Empress? What an impressive famille you come from.” Spinny scowled as much as the botox in her forehead would allow, “Funny that your father never told me about this particular link.”

“They had a falling out – dad and the Empress I mean.” Cronus hastened to explain. He didn’t really want to give Spinny more information on his family than he needed to – but Empress had stressed keeping Spinny on their side. “After my mum died. I guess he didn’t wanna talk about the Empress because of that.”

Spinny snorted, her tight plastic features distorted for a second with – was that jealousy-? Before smoothing out again.

“Whatever. He was free to keep his secrets just as I was. Bâtard. You woudn’t keep secrets from me, would you cheri?”

She leaned over the desk to stroke his cheek and he had to force himself not to physically recoil from her touch.

He suddenly remembered that he had no phone – no way of calling for help or even of finding his way out of Serket territory by himself. The little cabin suddenly felt much smaller – like he’d been locked in a cage with a beast…

“Empress sent me here with an offer,” He began, hoping it didn’t seem rude to jump into business like this, “she wants to extend your territory.”

“Really, how interesting… do go on.” Spinerette steepled her fingers, and her eyes glittered hungrily.

“Uh…” He froze momentarily and Spinny sighed impatiently.

“Here, I know what will loosen your tongue,” She rifled in a desk drawer and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and offered him one.

Empress saying no smoking under my roof made him hesitate for half a second, but then craving took over and he almost snatched the proffered cigarette from Spinny’s fingers.

Technically, I’m not under your roof right now…

Spinny lit the cig for him and he took a huge toke, shaking slightly as the nicotine hit him. The power-drill headache above his left eye immediately began to ease up and his vision sharpened.

Three hungry puffs later and he was giddy, but he didn’t mind.

Spinny was regarding him with an amused smirk playing on her collagen-enhanced lips.

“You’ve been needing that?”

“God yeah,” Cronus said, exhaling smoke.

She laughed, her features softening a little, “Come sit here on the sofa with me – the desk is so formal n’est pas? Let’s discuss this plan and you can smoke all you like…”

Against his better judgement Cronus allowed himself to be pulled down on the ancient leather sofa next to Spinerette, wincing slightly as she flung a bony arm around his shoulders and crossed her legs so one could rub up against his own.

He went to speak but she shushed him and reached across him to grab an ashtray, her proximity clearing meant to be alluring, but the only emotion stirring in Cronus was terror.

                What if she tries to – ?

                                She could fucking kill me down here and the only one who’d know would be Empress…

“There, now we’re all set, what does L’Impératrice want from me? And what territory is she sending my way?”

“Dad’s.” Cronus said simply, finishing his cigarette and cursing his lack of restraint when he immediately accepted a second.

“All of it?” She pressed, “And what do I need to do in return?” One of her hands was gripping his knee urgently now. He wished she would stop.

“Yeah, all of E2 – it’s all yours once we clean out Viv-“

“Putain.”

“Oui.” Spinny laughed delightedly and the hand that was clutching his knee was now clutching his thigh.

No more speaking French then.

“Uh,” Cronus tried to concentrate with Spinny’s tickling his neck and the pressure of her handing on his thigh, “oh - and you don’t have to pay anything up front, but she wants a cut of your profits.”

Spinny nodded, “Ok c’est juste mais… how much? 10%? 20%? I won’t go higher than that.”

In her fervour she was leaning closer to him, and the back of the sofa prevented him from leabing away.

                I could jab the cigarette in her eye as a last resort-?

                                No, come on, focus – task at hand and all that -

“She said you two could negotiate that in person once the hand over is complete – do you have enough people to come in and hold down E2 once we clear it tonight?”

Spinny considered.

“Potentialement. Let me make a few calls.”

She got up to make the calls from the desk and Cronus breathed a sigh of relief as he was freed from her predatory grip. He enjoyed the last few puffs on his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtay. His system was buzzing with nicotine and it felt so good he wanted to laugh –

But a few moments later Spinny was back, grinning like the cat who’d got the cream and pulling him into an uncomfortable embrace.

“Oh cheri, this is so wonderful. I will finally have the power I deserve – and,” her voice dropped to a low purr, “and you can come back to your home, maybe even help me run the organisation - you’d like that wouldn’t you? You and me running the East End together?” she held his face in her hands and Cronus wanted nothing more than to bolt, but he forced himself to smile and nod-

And then she kissed him full on the mouth. Cronus froze, his muscles locked up in shock – but she didn’t seem to notice, because when she pulled back she beamed at him before standing up and hugging herself, apparently barely able to contain her excitement.

Cronus just stared blankly up at her – What the fuck does she want from me-?

I’m at least half her age no matter what she’s trying to suggest with all that plastic in her fucking face!

                                Oh god she was fucking my dad this is so messed up-

 “Okay cheri, you can go now,” Spinny said breezily, already dialling a number on her phone and apparently oblivious to his revulsion, “Tara will take you back across the river. You go straight to the Empress and tell her I accept. I know your father would have wanted his territory to come to me and not that putain Viv.”

“Uh yes, uh…” He willed himself to snap out of it and he stood shakily, muscles tensed to flee if she got anywhere near him again.

“Here,” she pushed the rest of the packet of cigarettes into his hands, “Quickly now, you’ve got a busy day ahead of you non?”

Cronus nodded and almost ran out of the door - the memory of her lips on his made him shudder-

                And something else.

He’d been trying to avoid thinking about his father for a long time but –

Over dinner. When his dad had explained why he was going to overthrow Spinerette.

Modern day slavery.

He glanced furtively at the lacklustre workers as he hurried to the exit. A few were European, many were Bengali or North African.

I can support a lot of things. But I can’t support that.

Even the Orphaner wouldn’t stoop so low so as to support human trafficking.

Cronus swallowed.

He was about to hand a monster a huge portion of East London… but the alternative was leaving East London in the hands of a monster?

…He hoped Pyrope found a way to get in contact with him so he could take Spinerette down. Even if that meant Empress had him killed. Spinerette was right, he had a long day ahead of him.

Chapter Text

When Cronus got back to Empress’ apartment the first thing he did was take a shower to wash the smell of smoke away. He’d chain-smoked the rest of the pack Spinny had given him while trying to repress the memory of her plastic lips pushing up against his own.

What the fuck did dad even see in her? She’s creepy as hell –

                And it took fucking slavery to wake him up to that fact?

Once he was clean, and his hair gelled, he cleaned his teeth carefully and then spritzed himself with one of the fancy colognes Benoit had left in the bathroom for him. It was probably overkill, but Empress was terrifyingly good at reading him. He didn’t need to face her wrath along with everything else they were facing today.

Once certain his trail was sufficiently covered, he tugged on clean jeans and tugged on the most casual of the dress-shirts available since he had apparently exhausted Benoit’s supply of t shirts.

A knock came at the door and he was almost impressed with how little he jumped.

“Cronus?” It was in, the heavily scarred Asian man from the night before, “Your aunt will be coming down from her office shortly; she will meet you in the living room.”

“Okay, thanks.” Cronus replied, even managing a smile that might have passed as winning in a poor light, but any confidence he might have felt was drained out of him when he reached the living room and found who was waiting there.

“Wha’gwarn Cronus?”

Makara.

Hello young Cronus, wha’gwarn?

Sitting on Empress’ white-leather sofa with his arms flung across the seatbacks and his dress shoes propped up on the leopard-print ottoman before him.

Cronus found words stuck in his throat – a gasp caught in his lungs making his breath stutter and catch.

Makara was dressed like he could be someone’s dad at parents evening – the sharp jeans paired with the paisley shirt; the watch and rings on his fingers suggesting subtle wealth…

“Well? You goin’ to say hello to me, or do I gotta do all the talkin’?” Makara said without moving, the friendly smile on his face stretching his tattoos and revealing his sharply filed teeth – one gold and winking in the light.

When Cronus remained frozen, Makara laughed, tossing his head back so his huge mane trailed down the back of the sofa.

I’m laughing because you’re such a joke, man.

Cronus closed his eyes, aware of the bodyguards in the room and Empress’ impending entrance.

One two – he can’t hurt me in this room – three four five –which means  I can’t hurt him now – six seven eight – relax and fucking talk to him; it’s the task at hand –nine – try to forget he killed your dad – ten.

“Sorry; busy morning, I’m a little tired.” Cronus forced the words out, trying not to make it obvious that he was helpless to stop his fists balling and his blood boiling.

“Ahhhh, is that right? No problem den. Come sit down and rest for a moment – Your auntie will be down in a minute, I’m told.” 

Cronus forced stiff legs to move, and sat down on the sofa adjacent to Makara, digging his fingernails into his thighs and keeping his eyes peeled for any sudden movements.

Makara accepted the cup of tea the bodyguard Cronus was pretty sure was Aleesha offered him and sipped slowly, the picture of tranquillity.

When he smacked his lips appreciatively, Cronus jumped, and Makara sighed.

“Are you really so scared of me, Cronus? You understand the ting with your father was jus’ business?”

“You shot him. In the head.” Cronus found the words forced themselves out no matter how he tried to stay tight lipped.

“Yes, I did. I did do dat.” Makara said, putting the tea aside and leaning forwards to look Cronus in the eyes, “And you shot one of my girls, right in the heart, and left her lyin’ in a gutter. I tink dat makes us even, don’t you?”

Cronus swallowed. His fear and fury had almost made him forget her.

“Do you want to know her name?” Makara said softly.

Cronus felt his heart start to hammer inside his ribs. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t have the words to express how he felt and his thoughts had begun to swim.

                No, god no, I want to forget her, I want to forget that I did that –

                                I deserve to know her name. To know who she was before I killed her.

                Don’t tell me please don’t tell me-

                                                There’s no water ‘round here stupid -

“Shaunie. Her name was. Pretty name. Pretty girl. Shaunie Begum. 19 years old. Fell in wid my lot because her best friend did. Good little dealer. Good worker. Very loyal. Gave a lot of her earnings to her sick mum.”

Makara paused to see if the information had sunk in. It had.

“Shaunie wasn’t perfect. She got in a lot of fights – turf wars and the like. Once knifed a guy so bad he was in intensive care for t’ree weeks. Dat make you feel better?”

“No.” Cronus whispered, trying and failing to stop this information from fleshing out the ghost that hadn’t stopped haunting him since the night he’d shot her.

The purple-lipped girl – Shaunie – winked at him in his mind’s eye, her blood pumping out of the hole he’d left in her chest -

“Good. It shouldn’t.” Makara growled and Cronus shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed until white spots appeared, clearing away his vision of th- of Shaunie, and just left him with his fear of Makara to deal with.

“Now when your auntie gets down here how abouts you and me pretend to be on friendly terms. After all, I tink we’re pretty even, don’t you?”

Yes? No?

“Okay.” He replied miserably, whishing he’d thought to save some of those cigarettes…

Almost on cue, Empress’ terrifyingly tall high heeled boots appeared on the top rungs of the spiral staircase and she clattered down with practised ease, laughing at – while obviously relishing – Makara’s bow when she reached the main floor.

“Oh please Kurtis, no need for the formality,” she said, taking and kissing his proffered hand anyway. “Now, your clowns know E2 well enough don’t they?”

“Dey know… enough for dis mission, yes. Elias was sloppy. In his rush to break tings off with Serket he gave me too much of an advantage on his patch.” He tutted, “Silly really.”

Cronus held himself rictus-stiff.

Don’t let him get to you. One, two, three, four –

“Good.” Empress said briskly, “Well I ‘ave the who – the key players and bit players of Viv’s lot. So combined wiv your where – where they’re most likely to hang out – we should be able to get ‘em all.”

Cronus tugged himself from paralysis, “Do you mean… you don’t mean, like, killing them all, do you?”

Both Empress and Makara laughed this time.

“Oh bless yer little cottons. No babes – we’re gunna surround and hold those members, and as we take Viv down, we’re gunna show ‘em wot happens when you cross me. Live stream video or phone call  - doesn’t matter what, my techie will sort it out. No point in wasting good pawns. None of ‘em will be particularly loyal to this Viv anyway.”

She flashed her teeth at him.

“It’s the really loyal ones we gotta watch out for, innit? Now- ” She clapped her hands together, the bangles on her wrists jingling merrily, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

The raid didn’t start at night. According to Empress, scrapping at night was amateur hour, and she was anything but, so they arrived in E2 around 4pm. It was also a Wednesday – a slow, non-descript night for the bars and businesses of Bethnal Green.

The chosen base of operations was La Forchetta, an Italian restaurant Cronus was well acquainted with, as his dad had taken him there for birthdays, and special occasions for years. Now, however, as La Forchetta was directly next to The Shakespeare – the pub that Viv had had gutted by fire not too long ago, La Forchetta was ostensibly closed to repair fire damage. He felt strange walking in there without his dad’s hands on his shoulder. And with the addition of the handgun Empress had tossed to him before they left.

It was no small feat to get Empress and Makara, the two biggest mob bosses in London into E2, but it was managed with some effort, and as soon as Empress, Makara, Cronus and Meenah – who refused to be left behind – were inside the restaurant, security teams secured the perimeter.

The windows had been boarded up, but Cronus was surprised to see familiar wait-staff hanging around nervously by the kitchen.

“What?” Empress asked, seeing his expression, “I ain’t eaten yet – and taking over a territory is thirsty work,” she added, as a waiter hurried over with a bottle of rich red wine.

“My lot have been gettin’ in position since dis morning,” Makara rumbled as his glass was filled. He took a long drink, then smacked his lips appreciatively, before pulling out his phone, “I’ll check now dat everyone’s ready.”            

“An’ I’ll contact my cronies in the police while we’re waitin’ for Sanura,” Empress said, leaving Meenah and Cronus to fidget and look around the lavishly decorated restaurant – which was replete with Roman statues and elaborate friezes.

“Who’s Sanura?” Cronus muttered, as Meenah yawned and pulled out her phone.

“Um, I am, and, um, excuse me,” a diminutive woman in a black hijab tugged Meenah’s phone out of her hand and tapped away at a few things before handing the phone back. “I sort the, uh, tech as it were. I’ve only turned off the GPS tracking,” she explained hurriedly, catching Meenah’s outraged look. “Do not, whatever you do, tweet or update social media with your location for the rest of the evening, okay?”

“Okay, god – I’m not that stupid,” Meenah said, rolling her eyes – the guilty expression on her face suggesting that she had been just about to do just that.

Empress, deep in conversation, slapped a hand over her phone.

“Great, Sanura babes can you get set up over there? I want every radio station that broadcasts in E2 to be playing Scroobs, once an hour, every hour.”

“Guh-got it,” Sanura stammered, then, once her equipment was set up, “Uh, what’s, um, Scroobs?”

Empress rolled her eyes and muttered, “Gimme a sec,” down the phone.

“Scroobius Pip hunny, the psyc out song, innit?”

“Oh – oh yes,” Sanura said, beaming with relief, “Yes, got it.”

“God if you had a brain you’d be dangerous.” Empress muttered, turning back to her conversation, but Sanura didn’t seem to hear her, engrossed in key-tapping as she was.

Makara finished affirming his people’s locations and started lazily flicking through the menu. A moment later Empress hung up and snapped her fingers to get Meenah’s attention.

“You wanna learn somethin’? The police are pigs, but it pays to have some on your side- I let slip to some of my “friends” in blue that something is about to go down.  Told ‘em maybe tonight’s a good night to let a few of the older guys go home, or let the young’uns have that night of they’ve been hankerin’ for innit. Really strip things down to a skeleton crew.”

“Why-?” Meenah began but Empress cut her off.

“Because darlin’, that means if shots are heard and the police are called, there will only be my cronies at the station- who know not to intervene. They’ll tell any dissenters that it was probably fireworks – just ‘igh spirits and the like. Do you like carbonara?”

Cronus blinked at the sudden turn of conversation and the question fired his way.

“Uh, yes..?”

“Great – Roberto that’ll be three carbonaras and – what you havin’ Kurtis?”

“Anyting with meatballs.”

“You ‘eard the man - something with meatballs. And some garlic bread please too, matey.”

The chefs scurried to their task and Empress nodded over at Sanura.

“Sure you ain’t hungry?”

“M’fine,” the techie muttered, apparently much more confident behind her laptop. “The song should be playing anytime now.”

“Nice one. Let’s put the radio on then – and you get to interceptin’ any dodgy communications aiight? I’ve got my moles patrolling the E2 perimeter in case Makara’s lot miss any, but I think we might be good…”

“Yep.”

There was a few minutes of rare calm as Empress and Makara chatted and sipped their wine, and Cronus closed his eyes, willing images of Diti and Mr Vantas – of their sheer fucking faith in his ability to be a good person- go away.

I want to be the best Cronus I can be, I really do… but today I have to be a good Ampora.

                Ampora’s are smart. Ampora’s get the job done.

                                                                And Ampora’s kill people.

He knew Viv wasn’t getting out of this one alive no matter what he did.

Thinking about what she’d done to his hometown, to his – his – Horuss, didn’t make him feel any better about it.

Suddenly the quiet radio chatter was broken by a song that cut in, brash and insistent.

When it's cold, we bite the top of our zips,

Pull it up with our teeth till it covers our lips

Then exhale; central heating for the weather beaten

No feet are beating, this street in to stand by us like Will Wheaton

Walking these streets with that distant stare

No one likes us but we don't care

Maybe our kind don't fit round here

Our minds find conflict round here

“So what’s the point of this?” Meenah drawled, looking up from editing selfies of herself on her phone.

“Elias’ lads and lasses used to send messages wiv the radio, didn’t they?” Empress said, and Cronus nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Well I’m sure old habits die hard, and some of ‘em still listen in. This song’s a clear message - if you’re listening right. It’ll be just enough to instil doubt into the lads and lasses. Make them nervy, on edge.”

“Shouldn’t we be making them calm – make them think nothing’s wrong?” Meenah asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah – keep em jumpy. Jumpy people make mistakes.” Empress said with a cold smile. “An’ if it don’t work, at least I got my boy Scroobs on the radio. I fancy a bit of that London rap innit.”

The chorus blasted from the little radio Sanura had set up and Cronus shivered.

If the bad times are coming, let 'em come

Let the death drum break the slump

Before the once young braves succumb

The Fickle flicker of desire expires

If the bad times are coming Let 'em come, Let 'em come

If it didn’t put the lads and lasses on edge, it certainly worked on him.

***

Unsurprisingly, Cronus found he couldn’t stomach the meal that was set before him, but his abstaining wasn’t noticed amidst the flurry of action that began as Makara’s people started reporting in, having incapacitated lads and lasses across Bethnal Green.

Viv herself had fatally stabbed two clowns, and was on the run. Empress’ moles were in hot pursuit, sending updates about her whereabouts to Empress, who shouted them out to Sanura - who in turn plotted the zig-zag of her movements on an online map the rest of the team could access on the go.

Cronus and Meenah hung back – feeling very much like teenagers assigned to the kiddie table at Christmas – as the adults paced back and forth, barking orders into phones and collecting information as fast as it was relayed to them.

“This is such bullshit,” Meenah hissed to Cronus after an hour or so, “I thought mum was finally letting me, y’know, do something. We’re missin’ all the action from here.”

Cronus was actually quite happy that he hadn’t been asked to step in yet, but nodded for Meenah’s sake.

“I’ve got the map here – I heard mum tellin’ the gang the password,” She continued, shoving her phone in front of his nose so he could see.

Cronus just stared at it dumbly, and she rolled her eyes, “Cuz, for fucks sake – I’ve got a constantly updating map of where this Viv bitch is. We could sneak out – go get her.”

“But your mum-”

“She ain’t payin’ attention! And why else did she give us these?” Meenah asked, waving her hand gun a little too wildly for Cronus’ liking. When Cronus had been given his Meenah had moaned until she’d been armed too, Empress probably assuming she’d never have to use it – or the bowie knife she’d slipped into her glittery pink clutch-bag – as she was safe out of the fray.

…Empress really should’ve known her daughter would never stand for that.

“I…”

“You’re fuckin’ havin’ me on right? I thought you wanted to take her down? Thought it was personal? She tried to burn your boyfriend alive.”

Cronus felt a tiny spark of rage ignite in his chest. Meenah was right. And who knew the area better than him?

“Okay. But if your mum catches us, this was your idea okay?”

“Yeah as if.” Meenah shot back, tugging him insistently towards the door.

***

It didn’t take much to convince the guards on La Forchetta that Empress had sent them out on important business, and with Cronus’ knowledge of the area it wasn’t long before they were closing on Viv’s location.

A bar, the latest update said, in which she was apparently barricading herself and a few other for a last stand.

The bar was on a backstreet, round the corner from Bethnal Green Overground station, and as they approached Cronus realised with a sinking heart that he’d been there before.

“TJ’s” the sign said in neon that hadn’t yet been lit in the gloaming.

“Fuck,” he muttered softly, feeling the awful weight of the handgun in his belt.

“What? You know this place?” Meenah asked, her voice a little scornful – the dive bar scene evidently distasteful to her.

Cronus sighed and scrubbed his face tiredly in an act that unconsciously mirrored a mannerism of Mr Vantas.

I would give my right hand for a cigarette right about now…

“Been here before. Collecting money, y’know. Broke… broke a guy’s kneecaps.”

The memory tried to surface, but he forced it down, refusing to acknowledge TJ’s pale face, distorted by pain and desperation -

“Cool,” Meenah said, in a voice so offhand Cronus felt a fury he hadn’t felt in a long time bubbling in his guts.

Save it; use it.

 “Yeah. Well. The guys got two kids. Alex and… something.” He said levelly, balling his hands into fists.

“Sucks to be him,” Meenah shot back, and the surge of anger Cronus felt was… amazing.

One two thr- wait – no fuck it. I need the anger.

He let it flow through him and found his hands shaking with energy rather than fear. He need to yell – to punch something-

Hold your horses. Wait til you’re inside.

“Wait.” He said, his brain clearing enough to think. Meenah turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “If the info is good and they’re holed up in there, they’ll be defending it. If we go through the front door we’ll be cut down.”

“So what – back door?”

“Nah, too easy,” He said with confidence, the anger had burned through his fear and he wanted – needed – to keep the momentum rolling.

                If I look back-

“and Viv’ll be expecting it – she knows I know this place.”

Meenah pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and scowled.

“So what? Fucking apparate? You ain’t Harry bleedin’ Potter cuz.”

His lip curled into a snarl and his fists twitched to hit out. Mr Vantas would be disappointed –

Fuck him.

…I don’t mean that

 – yes I do. For now.

“We’re going in the upper storey windows. Where the kids’ rooms are.”

Meenah stared at him.

“So you’re Peter Pan?”

“Don’t be ridiculous I can’t fly,” he said, walking determinedly towards the side-ally adjacent to TJs, “I’m Burt the chimney sweep – chim-chim-cherree!”

Meenah actually gave a snort of laughter – for which he was obscenely proud, and hurried to join him in the alley.

She sniffed when she saw the graffiti-emblazoned wall before them.

“That’s non-climb paint, that is… But the bricks are pretty old… I reckon I could do it if you gave me a boost.”

Cronus snorted, “Oh yeah and then you’re gunna pull me up?”

Meenah held out an arm,

“Ten years gymnastics training, five years of weight training, and I’m a black belt in krav maga.”

Cronus felt the proffered bicep. It was hard as rock.

“…Oh.”

Why didn’t I get training like that??

“Mum sez it’s important for me to be strong.” She explained as if reading his thoughts, “And hey – you eat like… nothing. You’ve got muscles because you’re a dude and puberty likes you – but you eat jack shit and probably weigh less than I can deadlift. I’m guessin’ I could throw you up there, but that’d be too flashy.”

Meenah paused to laugh at Cronus’ stunned face.

“Now. We gunna stand ‘ere chin-waggin', or do you wanna give me a boost?”

***

Once on the roof, it wasn’t too much of an effort to scamper across the tiles and hang themselves off the gutter until their feet landed on the upstairs windowsills. The problem was getting in.

“Now what genius?” Meenah hissed, “If we stay here much longer we’ll be seen by some mook on the street - or someone inside will open the window for some fresh air!”

Cronus thought frantically. He’d been winging it up to now – he’d honestly hoped a window would be open, but no luck.

“We could break a window-“

“And lose the element of surprise?”

“Yes,” he scowled at the truth in her words. Maybe his plan wasn’t as smart as he’d thought it was… “Or try pry a window pane out the frame – you have your knife.”

Meenah considered.

“Ah fuck, alright, hold me by my belt and let me see if I can wrangle it. If you drop me I’ll fucking kill you.”

Cronus nodded solemnly, and tried not to make any sound of discomfort as Meenah squatted down to the window, balanced on the window sill precariously with only Cronus’ thin arm keeping her from falling into the street below. Cronus’ other arm was now supporting his weight and Meenah’s… and was shaking considerably from the strain already.

If I live through the night I’ve gotta start going to the gym… maybe Horuss can help…

There was a horrible scraping noise, then a thud, and Meenah was suddenly tumbling forwards -Cronus had just enough time to let go of her belt, then looked down into Meenah’s grinning face.

“This room’s empty – the whole fucking pane just popped in!” She hissed excitedly, “This TJ bloke needs to work on his home security.”

Cronus manoeuvred himself inside and looked around. The room must be TJ’s – it sported an unmade double bed and a desk covered with bills and motorbike magazines.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey stood on the bedside table next to a pack of B&H Duals. Cronus didn’t really like B&H cigarettes – and the menthol filter was not to his tastes at all, but he still hesitated, considering wither or not to take them – and then Meenah was snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Okay what now? They might have heard the thump of us coming in – and by that I mean you.  I was quiet.”

Cronus considered, still half-distracted by the promise of nicotine, then remembered Empress’ warning

It’s the really loyal ones we gotta watch out for

                Rehin? Maybe.

                Sara? Definitely.

He shivered as he felt her kiss like a brand on his cheek once again. Sara was smart, and she was vicious…

“Let’s search this floor – the kids’ bedrooms in particular.”

***

Once they had steeled themselves, and prepared their weapons, the cousins stole out onto the landing - which was clear, although there was light and noise coming from downstairs. Hopefully enough to cover their movements… but as there was no guarantee of that, Meenah covered the stairs with her hand gun, while Cronus checked the linen closet, the bathroom, and the bedroom that was Alex’s – judging by the bunting banner spelling out “A”, “L”, “E”, X”, “A”, “N”, “D”, “E”, “R”, in pink on gold.

When he reached the last room, the other child’s bedroom, Cronus listened for a full minute at the door. When he was at last satisfied that it was empty, he opened the door slowly, and entered with the quietest of steps.

This room had bunting too – lilac on light green, spelling out “C”, “H”, “L”, “O”, “E” –

                Chloe, that was it-

There seemed to be two bundles in the little bed -

                                Wait – what’s that smell-?

Suddenly the door was slammed shut behind him and a strong hand pulled his gun-hand up behind his back in a practised move and pulled it just-so until his screaming muscles forced him to release the hand gun.

“Shhh,” Sara whispered into his neck, one hand holding a knife to his throat, her other hand clamped tight over his mouth, “The children are sleeping.”

A cloud passing in front of the moon moved off and in the dim silvery light Cronus made out the two figures were Chloe and Alex, bound and gagged and crying silent, terrified tears on the bed. The smell he’d sensed earlier was sharper in his nostrils now – one or both of the children had wet themselves in fear.

“I’m sorry to do this Cronus, but I spelled out the rules very clearly, didn’t I?” Sara said softly, her tone gently admonishing, the knife pressing just hard enough into his neck to draw a line of hot blood, “Now it’s gunna hurt, and for that I apologise, but the good thing is it’s only gunna hurt for… ten seconds, let’s say.”

Cronus tensed, ready to try fight his way free, but just as the knife bit deeper into his flesh, the door slammed open behind them and bowled the, both over.

Meenah dragged him up, and stomped hard down on Sara’s head - once – and then again –

Sara still managed to moan and thrash about – slamming her palm down on the floor, which told everyone in the house that something was up.

“Shit.” Meenah hissed, pulling Sara up into a choke-hold.

“She’s the one who burnt your boyfriend ain’t she?” Meenah asked softly as Sara thrashed weakly in her grip and the children huddled terrified on the bed.

“Yeah… how do you-?“

“Mum knows everything dummy.” Meenah said spitting as long strands of Sara’s hair got caught in her mouth, “Ugh - I’m asking you if you wanna do this one – or let me?”

Don’t kill her – there’s only so much blood I can have on my hands –

A line from a long forgotten English class rose and pressed itself to the tip of his tongue.

                My hand will

The multitudinous seas incarnadine

“You do her…” Cronus said instead, unable to stop himself from blurting out - “but maybe just…. Knock her out? She’s good – could be useful,” he saw Meenah’s disdain before he even finished the sentence, but Meenah still let Sara down the moment she stopped struggling.

“Okay,” Meenah said, pressing her fingers under her glasses to rub at her eyes, “I reckon we’ve lost the element of surprise, but before anyone comes up to investigate, lets tie her up so she can’t come down and attack us later.” Meenah said, then - “What the fuck are you doing?”

Cronus had picked up Sara knife, ignoring the blood that was running freely from the slice in his neck, and begun to free the children from their bonds.

“Don’t let ‘em free – they’ll just cry and give us away!”

“We’re already given away,” Cronus hissed back, trying to work the knife over rope with sweaty hands, “And you’re gunna be quiet, aren’t you?” he asked the children sternly and they nodded, wide eyed and terrified.

They slid down off the bed and Chloe, the older judging by height alone, clutched at little Alex’s hand. They looked at Cronus and Meenah warily, but had apparently used up their screams and tears.

“Wot we gunna do with ‘em?” Meenah whispered, looking disdainfully at Alex’s soiled pyjamas, “Chuck ‘em out the bloody window?”

Chloe found some more tears then, and moaned a tiny “no” as they slipped down her cheeks.

“Hey – hey, c’mon,” Cronus said, patting the top of her head awkwardly.

What the hell do you do with children this small- neither of them can be older than about six!

“Look, uh… You’re gunna go into the bathroom and lock the door, understand?” Cronus said, falteringly, as Alex and Chloe turned red-rimmed eyes to him.

Oh no don’t look at me like that – like I’m an authority figure – or someone who has the slightest clue what they’re doing.

Poor little fuckers. Said a quieter voice. Didn’t deserve to be involved in all this shit.

“We’re not allowed to lock the door in the bathroom just in case,” Chloe whispered after a moment, surprisingly eloquent for her age and situation.

“This time you can, Cronus said patiently, “Because otherwise another… baddy… might tie you up.”

“Oh.” Chloe said seriously, pushing Alex behind her ever so slightly, “So are you a goody?”

Cronus answered “yes”, but felt his guts twist at the enormity of the lie.

A blast of music suddenly cut through the still evening and Cronus whipped round to see Meenah guiltily grabbing at her phone.

“Sorry,” she hissed rolling her eyes when Cronus smacked his forehead theatrically.

“Are you kidding? You didn’t put it on silent?”

“I forgot!” Meenah snapped back defensively, “… I don’t think anyone heard it anyway.”

They paused then to listen, and it seemed as if they’d been lucky.

“Ok. Well. I hope it was fucking important,” Cronus grumbled, handing the rope from the children’s wrists over to Meenah so she could tie up Sara’s recumbent body.

“It was mum.” Meenah said shortly, positioning Sara’s wrists behind her back and tying with practised ease. “She says she’s on her way. And we’re grounded for running off.”

Meenah finished tying Sara up, then covered Cronus as he carefully opened the door. He ushered the children across the landing, a finger on his lips – them copying, as if at school – and got them into the bathroom.

“Now lock it,” he hissed through the door, and let out a tiny breath of relief as the lock thunked into place.

He was just turning when he heard another noise – a click. He scowled, his deaf ear not helping him. Was that a footstep or a-

Crack.

The bullet bit deep into his left arm. The aim had clearly been his heart but his instincts had thrown his body into overdrive and he’d managed to move just enough to stop the shot being fatal.

In the dim light he saw Meenah and Rehin in a deadlock.

His shot must have bought her into the hallway and now they stood, guns aimed at each other. If Cronus raised his it’d be a classic Mexican standoff…

And really what choice did he have?

                You could try… talking?

The thought was pure Vantas, but he really didn’t want to kill if he didn’t have to…

“Hi Rehin,” he said quietly, “You were never really one for talk, were you?”

The skinny South-Asian man snorted.

“I’ve got a job to do mate,” he whispered back, not taking his eyes off of Meenah.

“Where’s Viv?” Cronus tried. Rehin didn’t budge.

“Escaping out the back door mate.” He said, half a grin tugging at his lips.

Well, I tried

Cronus tugged his gun from his belt. Rehin caught the movement and almost moved his gun to cover Cronus – but didn’t take the bait. Shame.

Cronus’ shot caught him in the leg and he went down with a strangled yell.

“You take him!” Cronus, yelled, abandoning any attempt at secrecy, “I’m getting Viv.”

***

Cronus half ran, half slid down the stairs, slamming his way through the door that led to the bar area and froze at the tableau before him.

The bar area had been cleared – table and chairs and rickety stools all pushed up against the entrance as a makeshift barricade. The only lights that were on were the softly glowing bar-lights and the flashing neon of the ancient slot machine in the corner.

In the middle of the room Viv had TJ tied into his wheelchair, both of his legs still in stiff casts, his mouth tightly bound in a gad, and a pistol pressed into his temple.

“Viv.” Cronus gasped, stopping in his tracks, “I thought… why aren’t you gone?”

“Tried. Surrounded.” Viv spat out, the smallest of trembles visible in her hand, her silvery hair in disarray and her tshirt stained with sweat.

The text from Empress. Her people must’ve arrived.

Cronus raised his gun and Viv scowled at him, nostrils flaring in fury,

“Drop it,” she barked, “Drop it now. Or I’ll shoot him in the shoulder. There’s a lot of bone and muscles in there. Takes a long time to heal. And it’s very painful. Do you really wanna cause him more pain, Cronus?”

Cronus felt his eyes inexorably drawn to TJ’s stricken face.

He dropped the gun.

“Good,” Viv said softly, seeming to regain a little composure. “Now, kick it over ‘ere.”

Cronus groaned inwardly, but obliged, sliding the gun over the mottled tile floor.

Viv snatched it up and immediately pointed it at him.

“Good. Now. I’m going to get out of here.”

Her voice was as cock-sure as ever, but there was that tremble again in her hand, and her lined face was shiny with sweat.

“How?” Cronus asked, trying to break the pillars of her composure.

“By using you as my bait.” Viv snapped back. “We’re going to walk out of those doors, you in front of me, and if you try to bolt – or if anyone gets too close to me – I’ll blow your brains out so your corpse will match yer dad’s.”

Cronus almost stepped back at the vehemence in her voice, but then another voice chimed in, low and lazy.

“Great plan,” Meenah said, stepping into the room with her gun trained on Viv, “Except now I’ve got my gun on you, and you can’t cover all of us.”

“No, but I will kill this man unless you drop your weapon.” Viv spat, glancing uneasily between the both of them.

                She’s probably wondering where Sara and Rehin have gone -

Meenah shrugged.

“Ok. Kill the man. Who the fuck is he anyway?”

TJ’s blue eyes widened and he tried to sink further into the wheelchair, away from the gun that Viv was twisting into his temple.

“Do you think I’m pulling yer leg?” She snarled.

“I think you’re wasting time.” Meenah shot back, “Kill the poor fucker, do it. And then I’ll blow your stupid head off.”

“Meenah,” Cronus said, grabbing his cousin’s shoulder, “Stop. She’s serious.”

A tear slipped down TJ’s cheek and got lost in the dark stubble along his jaw.

“So am I,” Meenah said, her eye contact with Viv almost making the air sizzle.

Cronus held a hand out imploringly to TJ –

                Please understand I never wanted this to happen -

“Fine,” Viv snarled, cocking the gun and jamming it into TJs head, “Fine-“

“Well, well, well - what the fuck do we have here?”

Viv froze. Empress had arrived via the back door while they argued.

“Nice job kiddos,” she said as her entourage of three burly body guards entered, weapons trained on Viv. “But as I said you’re dead grounded for running off like that.”

“What –? Mum!” Meenah yelled, but Empress silenced her with a look.

“Drop your weapons now or I’ll blow you away.” Empress said to Viv, waving Sanura into the bar behind the line of guards. The techie held a small camera in her hands and Cronus had no doubt the live feed was being sent to phones and video screens across E2. The lads and lasses would turn against Viv on an instant after seeing her comeuppance -

“Try me,” Viv said, her voice strained but deadly serious as she pointed both hand guns at Empress –

Who laughed. “Aiight, you heard her.”

There was an explosion of sound as five guns went off in the small bar. Meenah slammed Cronus into the ground and body guards flung themselves in front of Empress – who stood apparently unaffected in the bedlam she had let loose.

Light bulbs shattered, wood splintered, and when the air cleared –

Empress was untouched, two body guards had flesh wounds – one’s forehead was bleeding where her scalp had been cut, the other bent over double and gasping from where a bullet had slammed into his bullet proof vest from close range –

TJ was sat silently screaming into his gag but otherwise unharmed –

And Viv was curled in on herself, clutching a hand over the bullet wound in her ribs.

“Sort ‘er out.” Empress demanded, and the bodyguards – minus the gasping one – took away Viv’s guns and yanked her up so she was kneeling, securing her hands behind her back with rope cut away from TJ.

TJ was wheeled to the side of the bar – and un-gagged, but told to keep silent. Cronus looked up to check that the man was safe, before dropping his head back to the floor, good ear ringing like a knell, safe in his cousins protective hold.

“Nice try. I like your spunk.” Empress drawled, pausing to check a bedazzled phone, before continuing. “But you don’t just get to take over territory without my approval, especially when it means banishing my family from their rightful turf.”

She kicked Viv onto her back, then dug a pointed boot-heel into her wound until the older woman screamed out.

“Din’t know!” Viv cried out, scrabbling ineffectually at the boot heel in her side, “Someone had to take over. Work had to be done!”

“Yes it did,” Empress purred, removing her heel so she could loom over Viv in her now bloodstained heels. “But not the way you did it – killings in the streets? Arson of local businesses?” she tutted mockingly, “The game is a delicate one, love, and you have all the delicacy of a fucking butcher.”

“Fine. Punish me. Teach me how to do it right.” Viv rasped, the pleading look she gave Empress sitting strangely on her usually hard face.

“Oh no,” Empress breathed, “We’re way past that. You could’ve killed my nephew. My daughter… Cronus front and centre.”

At the commanding snap of her fingers Cronus extricated himself from Meenah’s protective hold and stood, feeling the dread begin to creep up from the bottom of his stomach.

“I think it’s fittin’ you do the honours, don’t you darlin’?” Empress drawled, holding out a gun a bodyguard had retrieved.

Time seemed to slow and warp as Cronus reached out, his hand closing around cold butt of the weapon.

                Not this again-

                                You knew this was coming.

                What would Mr Vantas say if he knew what I was about to do?

                There’s a left bank and a right bank

                Two sides to every story

                I’d be a murderer

                                                (Again)                

                                                But I’d be putting down a monster

                                                                                                                                (A human being)

                There’s not much to weigh up.

                Murder is murder is murder –

                                                Doesn’t matter what bank you stand on, if I kill her I’m dropping myself in the middle of the fucking river -

 “Cronus.” Viv managed to push herself up onto her knees despite the pain of her wound. “I - I know you’re capable of doing this,” She said slowly, her voice cracking with fear –

Like the girl with – like Shaunie Begum’s had-

“But do you really want more blood on your hands? You seemed pretty eaten up by the last one judging by what the papers are saying and how you looked at the trial.” She attempted a coy grin, but the expression merely slid off her mask of panic.

                She’s right though, can you live with yourself if you do this?

                                Viv’s a monster-

So what does that make you then?

                I can’t say no – Empress is going to kill her anyway

                                Of course you can say no – just put the gun down, walk away –

                Dad had you beaten – almost drowned – to toughen you up. What do you think Empress will do?

He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge the swirling thoughts, and focused on letting the rage he’d been calming since the Vantas’ took him in fill him up.

His hands shook with the adrenaline, but at this range it didn’t matter if his aim was a little off.

If the bad times are coming, let 'em come

Let the death drum break the slump

 “It doesn’t have to end like this,” Viv whispered, leaning forward– conspiratorially –  pleadingly -

The Fickle flicker of desire expires

“You don’t have to be this.” Her composure was gone. Her voice was the snarl of a concerned animal.

                Yes I do.

                If the bad times are coming –

He pulled the trigger.

Crack.

Viv slumped, her left eye a pulpy hole, a lazy glob of blood dripping like a tear, and then she fell forwards, her nose crunching as it slammed into the floor.

“Good job,” Empress said admiringly, taking the gun from him and clapping him on the back.

Cronus didn’t answer because he was already far away, and by the time he came back –

-He was at Empress’ apartment, sat on his bed with his fully-charged phone in his hand.

Did I… earn this?

There were messages from the Vanats’ and Horuss – but he couldn’t look at them without feeling sick.

Try not to think about –

                These people think you’re worth caring about and you’ve killed twice now –

Fuck.

He reached up to his throat and found a clean bandage there. Someone had dressed his wounds, and he was wearing clean pyjamas.

                Don’t think about the time you’ve lost, or you’ll just go away again, idiot.

The messages he opened were from an unknown number, but obviously from Pyrope.

• We’re going after Ms Serket tomorrow, come back to the Charing Cross police station by 9am or I’ll have Berrybaith issue a warrant for your arrest
• You don’t need to bring anything, but having a plausible reason to visit her would be good

Then:

• Please for the love of god tell me you’re not involved in the quoteunquote gang related incidents in E2 right now
• A body has been found. Matching your description of “Viv”. You better not have been a part of this. This isn’t the way things are done. There should have been a TRIAL >:[
• I will talk to you tomorrow Mr Ampora. 9am sharp or you’re under arrest.

“So what’re you gunnna do with your free day tomorrow?” Meenah said, starling him enough that he almost fell off the bed. She was leaning on the door frame in her pyjamas and looking at him critically, “Go visit your bee-eff or something?”

“I…” Cronus’ mind raced. A free day? Well that couldn’t have worked better, “Yeah probably.” He finished weakly.

Meenah nodded thoughtfully, not moving from her post on the door-frame.

“What?”

“It’s just… that was awesome today. Or – wait it’s 3am. Guess I mean last night. Anyway you really – I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“…Thanks.” Please don’t do this to me – don’t make me think about –

                Viv on her knees, a thick gelatinous tear made of salt water and exploded eyeball on her cheek.

“Mum won’t let me, you know, do any messy biz yet. When I’m 18 she sez.”

“Uh-huh.”

                Lucky you, not having to deal with –

                                Shaunie Begum, her body smoking in the cold air, blood pumping like a flower from the hole in her chest.

“She told me to double check on you – what with the whole “overdose” thing. But you’re cool, right?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead.

                I’ll have to tell Horuss, and Mr Vantas – tell them I killed again – on purpose. Even if Pyrope’s deal gets me out of a trial I should still – I deserve to be locked up – institutionalised- normal people don’t just -

“Aiight, awesome – I’m going to bed. ‘Night.”

“Night.” He whispered, trying to focus on his father’s mantra from long ago:

Ampora’s are smart, Ampora’s get the job done. They don’t lose their minds every time there’s some business to deal with.

I still have to help Pyrope take Spinny down tomorrow. Come on for fucksake keep it together.

Ampora’s are –

Ampora’s –

He groaned and half-ran, half-staggered to the toilet, heaving emptily into the bowl and collapsing onto his knees as the nausea made him shivery and weak.

I don’t want to be an Ampora any more, he thought to himself, finding himself crying quietly, I don’t know if I even want to be Cronus.

He resigned himself to a night of crouching over in the bathroom, heaving up the bile in his stomach while his brain played and replayed his crimes. This time there was no Horuss, no Porrim or Mr Vantas to stroke his back and hold him as he shook.

How is't with me, when every noise appals me?

The words from the ancient English lesson surfaced again.

What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.

I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without feeling sick.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand?

Can I come back from this?

No, this my hand will rather

The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

I ruin everything I touch.

How many good deeds does it take to erase a murder?

He tried to keep in mind the feel of Horuss’ strong arms around him; the stern fatherly looks Mr Vantas sent his way -

I promise I’ll be good after this, I promise…

After a moment where he hoped the universe accepted his promise he picked up his phone and sent a message to Horuss:

“Will you meet me at Charing Cross station at 8am tomorrow?”

It was 3:20am. Horuss would probably be asleep –

His phone buzzed and he looked down with bleary eyes.

“Of course.”

Then

“Cronus I hope you don’t mind me saying but”

“I really quite”

“Love you. Quite a lot. You do know that, don’t you?”

Cronus stared at the words on the screen, letting the message sink in.

                I really quite love you.

The words gave him strength enough to pull himself off the bathroom floor and tumble into bed for the few hours of sleep he could catch.

                I really quite

He clutched his phone to his chest. The thought of seeing Horuss tomorrow drowned everything else out. Made getting through the night almost bearable.

Chapter Text

Thursday

At 7 am Cronus dragged himself out of bed, eyes burning with exhaustion and fingers trembling for want of nicotine – but determined to see Horuss before another day slapped him into the ground.

The side of his head seemed fine, if bruised, and a clean white bandage and a deep ache were all the traces of the bullet wound in his left arm. His hoody hid the bandage, but he had nothing to hide the mottled purple of his forehead. It would have to do.

When he asked to see Empress, he was told she was having a lie-in and wasn’t to be disturbed, so he left a note on the interactive fridge door – while wondering who the fuck needed an interactive fridge door – to explain where he was going.

                Morning Auntie,

                Thought I’d visit Spinerette to tell her Viv’s gone, if she didn’t already know.

                Dad would want it done all polite like that

                Please let her know I’m on my way so I don’t get stabbed when I step off the DLR.

                Oh and thank you for giving me my phone back.

-Cronus

That seemed to do the trick, and no bodyguards gave any indication that Empress would disapprove. Her own message on the screen simply said:

                U get 2day free 4 good work last nite

                U can both stay in @ the weekend tho 4 ur little running off stunt

 E

He returned to his room to shove his phone and the oyster card he’d been given into his hoody pockets. The back pocket of his jeans felt empty without the familiar bulk of a cigarette packet, and he wondered idly if he could persuade Horuss to buy him some as he rode the lift down to street level.

It was easier to get the bus at this hour – commuters packed into the tubes like sardines, especially in The City – and Cronus felt safer aboveground for a reason he couldn’t define.

He jumped off when he saw Nelson atop his column and walked unsteadily round the corner to Charing Cross. It was 7:42am. He shivered. It was misty today and he could feel the moisture being sucked into his lungs. He gave a hacking cough and a passerby eyed him distastefully.

Arsehole.

He was so busy sending imaginary insults after the passerby, that he didn’t notice Horuss until he was right in front of him. The huge lad was wearing jeans and a rugby shirt, what was left of his long hair hanging loose about his face, but not enough to hide the puckered skin that ran up the right of his neck and across his cheek.

Cronus blinked at him, and reached out one hand wordlessly.

He’s not in his overalls. It’s strange, like when he was wearing a suit at the trial…

“Cronus?” Horuss asked, his voice softly questioning, as if he didn’t recognise the drained, hollow creature before him. Cronus couldn’t blame him.

He probably sees the murders on your skin…

Before he could reply, Horuss’ arms were around him and he clung to the big lad like a drowning man clinging to his saviour.

“You… Are you okay?” Horuss asked, moving as if to extricate Cronus from his arms, then giving up as it became clear Cronus wasn’t about to move.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cronus said, nuzzling into Horuss neck and breathing in the smell of his hair, his skin, “You’re okay. You’re okay… God I’m so fucking glad to see you.”

He felt tears threaten to choke his throat and swallowed them down, instead letting out a hysterical, whooping laugh and squeezing Horuss closer.

“Cronus?” This time Horuss did push him back, holding him gently at arms’ length and examining him worriedly.

He can see it – the blood –

“I’m… Very tired.” Cronus said quietly, trying to organise his thoughts enough to form full sentences. “Didn’t sleep hardly. Gotta do a thing with… with the police at 9. Can’t be late.”

Horuss frowned thoughtfully, then said, “Okay. We’re going to a coffee shop so we can talk while also filling you up with caffeine.”

Cronus just nodded and thrilled at the way Horuss laced their fingers together as they walked down the Strand.  

The first Starbucks they encountered was busy, but in that edgy commuter give me my coffee I’ve gotta go sort of way, so while the line was long, the seats were mostly empty.

Horuss steered Cronus to a dilapidated settee at the back of the shop and gently pushed him down onto the seats.

“Try and grab 40 winks while I get some coffee,” he murmured, before striding purposefully through the mass of commuters haggling over sugar and napkins and fighting over whose grande skinny chai tea latte that was.

Cronus felt as if he’d merely blinked his burning eyes, when suddenly his settee cushion was boosted up as Horuss sat down and pushed a cup of whatever coffee he’d deemed best fit into Cronus’ hand.

What he’d deemed best was apparently strong coffee, and Cronus winced at the taste, but choked a few burning mouthfuls down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

There was a moment where they just drank their coffees in silence, and then Cronus couldn’t bear it any more. He kicked off his trainers, put down his coffee and laid down in Horuss’ lap, curling his arms around his waist and pushing his head into his thick chest.

Horuss acted as if this was perfectly acceptable behaviour in the middle of a coffee shop – continuing to sip his drink stoically, and laying a strong arm so it rest on Cronus’ back.

“Just ten minutes,” Cronus said quietly.

“As long as you need.”

After a while Cronus felt well enough to sit up, finish the rest of his coffee in one cold mouthful, and lean tiredly into Horuss’ shoulder.

“You should have seen the staring match I had with the barista over your nap,” Horuss remarked casually. “He was this close to coming over and asking you to get your feet of the settee or something. I won though.” He finished smugly.

“My fucking hero,” Cronus snorted, but nuzzling into Horuss’ as he was probably undermined the banter.

“So. Would you like to tell me why I had to endure two days of my dad and my step-mother back in the same house?”

“…No. But E2 is – will be safe. And I’m glad you got your dad out.” Knowing strong, honest Mr Zahak would soon be back in his shop on Canrobert Street felt… right to Cronus.

Horuss grunted.

“Can I ask how it’s going with your aunt?”

“I… Okay I guess. She apparently cares about me because we’re family.” Cronus thought about the way she’d loudly declared him my nephew the night before, and the seemingly genuine concern she had for his mental state. Right before helping it get a hundred times worse… she’s as bad as my dad was at being a fucking parent… “I think it’s more of a pride thing,” he said carefully, trying to clarify how he felt about Empress’ feelings about him. “Like, no one can hurt me or it’s a slight to her standing, and so she’s gotta keep me safe or something.”

“But she’s looking after you?” Horuss pressed, his eyes flicking to the bruising that marred Cronus face – the look suggesting he didn’t think much of Empress’ care if Cronus was wandering around looking like he did.

“She’s… given me a huge bedroom with an ensuite bathroom.” Cronus replied, avoiding the real question and Horuss’ searching gaze, “Dead swanky. All new clothes and that. And she… She got my guitar for me from my house – my old house.” And she got you involved with the mob just like you knew she would. You killed again on her watch. She wanted you to.

Horuss seemed to catch the words Cronus didn’t say, because he shifted stiffly in his seat and sighed.

“…What?”

“I read the paper, you know. There were bodies found in Bethnal Green last night. Suspected mob links. It was on the front page this morning.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Cronus said, suddenly desperate, “can we talk about… About what I wanna do after today. After it’s all over.”

“What do you mean all over-?”

“I got 50 k from Viv – to stop me going back to E2”

“50-? Wow.” Horuss breathed and Cronus nodded.

“Yep. So if I could persuade my aunt to let me go – maybe just for a year or two – it’d be enough to… well not enough to buy a flat, but I could rent a small one – a small, nice one – in Bethnal Green-“ His stomach twisted at the thought and he realised with a sinking feeling that E2 might not ever feel like home again after what he’d done there. “Or, or maybe up in Finchley.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Horuss hummed in a non-committal way, letting Cronus get the words out.

“Well I could go back and do my last year in college, get some A-levels,” and dad’s not about anymore so he can’t make me drop literature – the thought of that small freedom sent a shiver down his spine, “and then I could, I could-“

He faltered suddenly, and felt the future ahead of him become a wall of dark stone.

You could – what? What could you do? Get a job? It’d better be a job both Empress and the police approve of – because you know you’ll be on watchlists and whatnot for the rest of your life. And if she even agreed to give you a year or two in the first place, it wouldn’t be long before Empress wanted you back, working the family business – and then what? You follow your fucking awful destiny or you rebel and fucking die. There’s no future in this, no fixing this –

Horuss again seemed to sense the silent outpouring, because he pulled Cronus into a gentle hug and picked up the thread of the story.

“And then I would get my dad to bring you on as an overseer or a secretary, or a – a business liaison, or marketing assistant – or whatever nonsense title we can come up with. You wouldn’t even have to work in E2. Dad wants to expand into North London – Highbury or Angel or something. Hipsters still need car repair.” Horuss squeezed his shoulders and Cronus let out a humourless snort, “You would get a wage and a respectable job on your CV. And if your aunty cares about you, then she should give you a year or two to process your dad’s death and get your A-levels as – you can say – he wanted. Maybe even go to uni.”

Horuss pulled back and held one of Cronus’ hands loosely, sincerity in his dark eyes.

“Look, the important thing is that there are options. And we’ll have time to figure out what to do when your aunty comes calling.” He hesitated, then ducked his head bashfully, “And if you didn’t feel safe in your flat you’ve got people who would love to be your flatmate, I bet.”

“Like who?” Cronus whispered, letting himself be carried away with the stupid fantasy because it felt like cotton wool was gently being packed into the holes in his soul.

Horuss stuttered a little, “Well – well I know Kankri wants to feel more like a grownup – moving out would do that – and the same goes for Porrim, as long as you didn’t mind a string of friends and –uh – lovers coming and going. And, well, you’ve seen my room at home, it’s tiny…”

Cronus squeezed Horuss’ hand and almost didn’t dare to breath. The fantasy complete, he could feel something like hope swelling in his chest, that long deflated balloon began to swell once more. But it was a fragile awakening – he felt that any movement could blow it all away like dandelion seeds.

After a moment he disentangled himself from Horuss – then, changing his mind planted a clumsy kiss on his cheek – making the big lad blush.

“So,” Cronus said, once he’d managed to regain his composure a little, “How bad could it have been with your dad and step-mum?”

Horuss scowled, “It was a nightmare – they were only married about six months, which is a good thing because whenever they’re around each other it’s like they’re creating this black cloud… Dad kept making snide remarks about the proper environment to raise a child in, and that he felt bad for poor Damara, and mum kept having loud conversations in Japanese to her friends where every now and then she’d just drop his name in really loudly, so he’d know she was talking about him. Damara and I just tried to stay in the living room – which is at the top of their flat - as much as possible to stay out of it.” He shuddered dramatically and Cronus grinned, enjoying the way the rant animated Horuss’ broad face – and how it had finally stopped him worrying about Cronus. “Dad’s going back today, which is a mercy because yesterday he broke a plate doing the washing up – sort of accidently-on-purpose I think – and mum was really furious because apparently it was some sort of antique… I don’t know.”

He sighed, and then, remembering something, jerked his head down to look at his phone.

“You said you have to be at the station for 9?”

“…Yeah.” No – don’t make me move from here, I don’t want to do anything horrible today – just let me talk to you -

“We’d better go – I’ll walk you.”

“Thanks.” Cronus shot him a queasy smile and they headed back onto the Strand.

***

In the entrance hall of Charing Cross Police Station Cronus was met by Ms Pyrope, a stout woman dressed eclectically in a Doctor Who style blue suit and purple shirt, and an alarming number of armed police officers.

“Wotcha Cronus,” Pyrope said with a Cheshire cat grin on her face, “the woman with the fancy suit is Detective Inspector Berrybaith, formerly of the City of Glasgow Police Force. The gaggle with the guns are from Trident Gang Crime Command. Detective Chief Superintendent Southworth assures me they’re very effective tackling gang violence- and we only have them for today so we need to get this show on the road a-sap. Say goodbye to the civilian,” she added, looking pointedly at Horuss.

“Wait,” Cronus said, frowning as his sleep-deprived brain struggled with the stream of information, “This is police business isn’t it… Why are you here?”

“Pyrope’s yer handler,” Berrybaith answered, her voice booming and thick with her Glaswegian accent, “She’s made a deal wit’ yer and I dinnae want a wee lad’s blood on my hands. You’re her responsibility. Also,” she added in a stage whisper, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief, “I hear it’s a bit of a grudge match, and who am I to stand in the way o’ justice?”

“That’s quite enough, thank you, Berrybaith,” Pyrope said, her sharp tone mingled with affection, Cronus couldn’t help but notice, “I mean it Cronus – two minutes and then he’s gone.”

Cronus nodded and let Horuss drag him back a bit.

“I know it’s not really my place but… I don’t like the sound of that at all,” Horuss muttered, putting his arm around Cronus’s shoulders protectively, “A grudge match? That hardly sounds professional – aren’t the police meant to be, well, better than the gangs?”

Cronus hushed him softly, “If I do this, if I help them take Spinerette down, Pyrope will arrange to have my charges dropped.”

“Who’s Spinerette-?”

“She’s a human trafficker.” Cronus bit out, “In taking down Viv – and yes okay I was involved in that - I’ve helped put a fucking slaver in charge of Dad’s old turf. Viv needed to go but this – this is hardly any better-”

“So you – last night-?”

“Not now, please? Don’t do this now.” Cronus whispered, butting his head into Horuss’ chest, aware of the eyes of too many police officers – and one impatient lawyer -on them.

Horuss sighed and pushed his fingers up into the curls of Cronus’ hair.

“Fine.” He whispered back, “But I would like to go on the record as saying I don’t like this. Why do they need you –? Look how many armed police they have!”

“They need a confession out of Spinny that… for reasons I’m not explaining now - I’m sure I can get. Otherwise they’d have to get a warrant to investigate her, and she’d have time to cover her tracks…” Cronus felt his stomach knotting up just thinking of the task to come, “I need to get her relaxed so the Trident lot can take her unawares – otherwise it could end up being a huge shoot out in the middle of Poplar. I don’t… I can’t do that to – That’s not happening.”

Horuss stoked his hair gently and sighed again, “Okay, but after this I’m going to help you buy that flat and you’re going to spend a long time relaxing in safety, and watching dumb movies and playing xbox like a normal teenager.”

“Says the genius mechanic-painter guy.” Cronus shot back, “How’d you know what normal teenagers get up to?”

Horuss snorted. “Guess I don’t. Okay. Last thing: what will your aunt say about this?”

“Oh I’m… sure I can talk my way out of any issues.” Cronus said, his faint smile frozen on his lips.

Was trying not to think about that mate. She’ll kill me. Obviously.

She’ll have me lowered slowly into boiling water

                                                                                (You get me?)

“Well, uh, be careful.”

Horuss pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Cronus’ lips and left, the front door of the police station closing with an ominous thud behind him.

Pyrope nodded and beckoned Cronus over. He used the small bloom of warmth that Horuss’ kiss had left on his lips to thaw his fear-frozen core and walked as casually as he could over to Pyrope.

“Do I wanna know how you got that?” She asked, poking a finger none-too-gently into the side of his head, making him wince as the tender flesh protested.

“Uh… no?” he ventured, and she sighed.

“I wanted to get Viv in for questioning Cronus, make her stand trial for her crimes. It upsets me when people derail the course of justice, you know.”

You illegally made me incriminate myself on the stand, he thought incredulously, but kept the comment behind his teeth.

Pyrope pulled a face at him, then shook herself and clapped him on the shoulder, all business.

“Do you have permission to enter the spider’s web young Cronus?”

“Uh, hang on…” He fumbled for his phone and found a message from an unknown number which consisted of five “okay” hand emojis. “Yeah I’m… I’m pretty sure my aunt just okay-ed it.”

 “Excellent,” she said briskly, “now how about we-“

“How about you let me run mah operation Leiko?” Berrybaith interrupted, slapping her broad chest in mock indignation, “You know I dinnae have tae have you here, clutterin’ up the place.”

Pyrope scowled, “Fine, Melissa, why don’t you brief him while I file my nails over here.”

Berrybaith snorted, then guffawed in earnest when Pyrope drew an actual file from the inner pocket of her suit jacket.

“Diddya hae that ready in case of some – whit dya Londoners call it? – choice bants?”

Pyrope grinned back toothily, “There’s nothing funny about proper cuticle care, Mel.”

At this point half the Trident officers lost their collective shit and Berrybaith had to cough rather pointedly to get them back in order.

Yeah laugh it up, we’re only going to take down a dangerous mob-boss.

It’s not like a bunch of you could die or anything.

“Sorry Cronus, don’t think we’re no’ tekken this seriously,” Berrybaith said, apparently reading his mind, “Now the Trident officers are highly trained – and your task is simple: find Spinerette Serket and get her to admit that she’s the one running the human trafficking ring out o’ th’East India Docks. Without that key evidence it’ll be hard to pin a conviction on her – she’ll pin it on an underling or buy a lawyer to help her weasel out of it some other way. No’ that ah’m sayin’ all lawyers are crooked, Leiko.”

Pyrope looked over and held up her middle finger, the nail perfectly filed.

Berrybaith raised her the V and continued smoothly.

“Obviously you are not to in any way give Ms Serket any prior warning to our arrival, or make any indication to the fact that you’re wearin’ a wire. Speakin’ o’ which- Solomon front and centre!”

A beanpole of an officer lurched forwards, his shoulders hunched nervously.

“Please kit Cronus here out wit’ his microphone – and quickly so we can get this operation underway.”

Solomon nodded and pulled out a small case from his pocket. Inside was a thin, translucent wire, with a tiny mic on one end and a tiny transmitter on the other.

“Lift up your shirt please.” He said quietly, rummaging in his pockets for tape, and missing how Cronus blanched at the thought of doing so in front of everyone in the police station.

“Up.” Solomon repeated, holding the tape ready, and Cronus did as he was told, looking carefully down at how Solomon affixed the little gadget so he didn’t have to see everyone’s eyes on him. He couldn’t do anything about the blush that lit his face, unfortunately.

The second Solomon withdrew his hands, Cronus yanked his shirt down and raised his head to find precisely none of the people present taking any interest in the proceedings.

“You done there?” Berrybaith asked when Solomon retreated.

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered, staring at a screen on a device that was no doubt connected to the mic.

“Working?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Excellent, well-”

“Isn’t there an earphone of something?” Cronus asked, confused, “How will you talk to me?”

“Oh we won’t be.” Berrybaith replied airily. “There’s no good way tae conceal something like tha on your person, so once you get out the van at Poplar, you’re on yer own.”

Oh. Perfect.

***

In the back of an armoured – though non-descript – van, Cronus tried not to make eye contact with any of the Trident officers in case they took it as an invitation to speak. Six sat facing him in their black uniforms, while Cronus and Pyrope sat opposite them with four more. Their’s was one of three vans heading for Canary Wharf. Cronus hoped it would be enough.

He was so nervous and sleep-deprived he didn’t exactly feel like having a conversation about how he knew Spinerette or what it had been like being the Orphaner’s son. Thankfully the ten officers in this van remained silent. Pyrope sitting next to him, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be catching his leave me alone vibes.

“Remember, you help take Serket down and I’ll get any charges against you dropped.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice dripping with mock indignation, “no need to get snippy – I’m just keeping you motivated.”

“I don’t want to go to prison. That’s motivation enough.”

“Fair, fair… are you sure that she’ll let her guard down around you though?”

“Of course I fucking am! Why the fuck else would I agree to this?” Cronus heard his own voice ringing in his ears and immediately dropped into a petulant whisper, “Why do you care so much anyway?”

Pyrope scowled at him for a moment, then removed her glasses.

“Because,” she began, reaching up to her face and into her –

Wait what the fuck –

Pyrope dug a finger into her right eye-socket

                A hysterical thought piped up: Good thing she filed her nails

                                                And tugged out the eyeball which was evidently made of

“Glass.” She said with a grin, “Spooked ya didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Cronus croaked, “So Spinny-“

“Mugged me when I was still a law student. It was just a small cut but the eye got infected. This was back when she was just starting out… I’ve followed her career with interest, as it happens.”

“Great, so I’m here because you’re trying to settle a score,” Cronus snapped, angry that Pyrope was still pushing his buttons – and freaking him out right before he needed to come off as calm and collected.

“No.” Pyrope purred in reply, her Cheshire-Cat smile back, “You’re here because you’re a murderer and you need to atone somehow – it’s this or prison matey. You’ve made your choice now stop whingeing about it.”

That shut him up, and he suddenly felt small and horribly conspicuous as six blank faces stared back at him.

***

They arrived in Canary Wharf all too soon, and it wasn’t long before the red-haired ferrywoman was being arrested and a police officer given her coat and woolly hat, and tasked with rowing Cronus over to the factory. The rest of the Trident unit were apparently being driven around the long way, but Cronus needed to arrive normally so as not to arouse suspicion.

What if the ferrywoman usually has a password to give? What if there’s CCTV on the dock and Spinny recognises it’s an officer? What if the boat capsizes –?

Cronus managed to swallow the bile in his throat and walked as steadily and purposefully as he could into Spinny’s warehouse – the door of which wasn’t locked, but was guarded by two surly gunmen, who let him pass with dismissive up-nods.  

Well I guess that means Spinny got Empress’ message…

He walked past the lines of – what had Spinny called them last time? Les souris?

The lines of miserable mice barely looked up as he walked past, bent as they were over their laborious tasks. The gun-wielding overseers only sneered at him when he dared meet their eyes.  

“Bonjour Marquise,” Cronus began, as he stepped into Spinnerette’s office - resisting the urge to wring his hands nervously.

Stay cool, you’ve got this.

“Bonjour cheri, it’s lovely to see you again.” Spinnerette said, smiling warmly and leaning back on her desk. Today she was wearing her usual red stilettos, together with a clingy pencil skirt and a white blouse with a conspicuous red bra underneath - the look she had chosen making Cronus feel distinctly like a fly stepping into the spider’s web.

He forced himself to take a few steps forwards, feeling the tape of the wire under his shirt tugging at his skin.

“You’ve probably heard the good news already, but I wanted to tell you myself…” He began, keeping his voice as level as he could. Spinny laughed softly and he allowed himself to be beckoned closer at the insistence of her crooked finger. “Viv is gone. The Bethnal Green territory is yours.”

Spinny smiled widely, flashing her bleached pearlies and reaching out to clasp his shoulders.

“I know, cheri, but it’s good to hear it coming from you.” She trailed one long nail down the side of his face and he forced himself to smile instead of shudder. “I assume you’re here so we can negotiate the profit percentage I should be handing over to your aunt?”

She wrinkled her nose as if this was the most trivial matter in the world, and Cronus saw his opening even as he felt the sticky strands of her trap close about him.

“Yes but more importantly… Would you allow me to… can I come home?” He lowered his gaze and Spinny lifted his chin up with one bony finger.

“But of course Cronus, you’ve done so much for me,” she breathed, her breath tickling his cheeks, “and besides, I think it will be… fun to have you around.”

He knew it was coming but he still gasped softly as she captured his lips with her own.

Please don’t – please stop –

Spinny smiled into the kiss, then spun him around, backing him up to the desk and gently pushing him up to sit on it.

Fuck- fuck – how do I get out of this -?

The smile never left her plastic lips as she pushed her wiry body between his legs and stroked his hair fondly. Cronus tried not to focus on how close her plastic air-bag breasts were to his face.

Pyrope and Berrybaith can hear this. The flush of shame on his face must have looked like something else, because Spinnerette was kissing him again, wrapping her bony fingers around him in a caress that hurt more than it soothed.

What if she tries to take my shirt off?? She’ll find the wire -

“Can – can I ask one more favour?” Cronus forced out between kisses, not daring to grab at her wandering hands. Thankfully she paused, and drew back.

Her arched eyebrow clearly suggesting that she thought she already was doing him a favour.

“The… your operation out there…”

“Oh don’t worry about them,” she said with a lazy smile, her fingers trailing dangerously down his chest – the wire! - “they’re happy to work for entry into this country, pay them no mind.“

“No but-” He paused and frantically tried to pull a coherent thought together, “Dad always said – it’s basically, well, slavery – and he didn’t like it and-”

“Are you saying you won’t allow me to continue my work?” She said, a twist of anger held between her shiny teeth as she spoke – the hand in his hair tightening its grip ever so slightly, “That the price of your father’s territory is the end of my business?”

“No,” he blurted out, alarmed at the suddenly fury in her eyes, “No but, would you consider – I don’t know - downsizing? Out of respect for dad..?”

He was grasping at straws and she could tell.

“Look, Cronus,” she said, putting her hands at either side of him on the desk so she could bring her eyes level to his own - and keeping me trapped here - “What your father failed to understand was that I am in the most lucrative business of them all. It’s not slavery. And I don’t like this term trafficking.” She sneered at it – as if it was some media buzzword, “This country has some wonderful benefits to offer – no war; no famine; free healthcare. And thousands are turned away from its borders every year.”

“I know-”

“Let me finish,” she snapped, slapping his thigh, then kissing his trembling lips gently, “Oh cheri you are still so naïve, n’est pas? This is a business, not a charity. I help them come in, but they will stay here and work for me until I deem their debt paid off, do you understand? And if I find interested parties that they can work for instead, I make arrangements.” The implications of that little admission made Cronus want to gag. “And eventually they get the life they wanted.”

She leant in again predatorily and Cronus let out a silent prayer that Berrybaith’s team would make their move before she found the wire taped to his torso.

I hope you got that Pyrope, I hope that’s good enough –

Apparently it was, because just as Spinny was pushing his shirt up over his stomach, there was a shout from the factory floor and three ringing gunshots.

Spinny froze and whipped round, then, moving deceptively fast on her spindly shoes she raced across the room and locked the office door – and dragged a heavy metal grill over it too.

Cronus felt his stomach sink.

She’ll kill me before they get here.

Still, some survival instinct forced him to act shocked.

“What was that – what’s happening?” He asked, the cold sweat drenching him and the shake in his voice only adding to the authenticity of the act.

“J’sais pas,” Spinny snapped, tugging him off the desk and climbing over it herself to check the CCTV monitors on her computer screen.

“Merde.” She spat, reaching under her desk for a handgun and tossing it to Cronus. “I hear you’re good with these – prove it.”

For herself she drew out an alarmingly large machete, then grabbed up a radio.

She was half-way spitting out orders and demands for back up, before she found it wasn’t working. That would be Berrybaith and Pyrope’s doing, Cronus thought – although what they had done he had no idea, and could barely think of what to do while the machete in Spinerette hands occupied most of his attention.

“D’accord. It’s a fight, then,” she said grimly, after tossing the radio aside. “Police bought their fucking Trident. You’d better be as good with that as Empress says.”

Cronus just swallowed and nodded grimly, and then froze as the noise outside suddenly died down and a voice came echoing across the factory floor.

“Okay, Spinnerette next – and top priority is getting the kid outta there.”

Cronus froze and felt Spinny tense beside him.

What fucking idiot didn’t think to keep his voice down when I’m fucking in here with her???

For a moment anger overtook fear, and the energy gave him enough time to move as Spinnerette turned to him with boiling fury in her eyes and slashed the machete down to where he’d been standing just a moment before.

“Tu travailles avec la gendarmerie?? Je vais te tuer petit connard!” She snarled, launching herself across the room, and bowling him over.

Cronus had the gun to her temple in seconds, and then hesitated.

I won’t do it.

I’m not fucking killing again. No one can make me.

In the moment’s hesitation Spinny shoved the gun aside and raised the machete –

Cronus shot the hand holding the weapon instead, and she howled and fell backwards off him.

“I’m sorry,” he babbled, flinching as the Trident officers began beating the door with a battering ram, “I’m sorry but you have to stop – I had to – I had to-“

He emptied the rest of the bullets from the gun and let them clatter to the floor, determined not to kill her – but when he looked up she was suddenly somehow an inch from his face, the machete clutched clumsily in her other hand.

“’Ow dare you,” she snarled, slamming the butt of the machete into the side of his head.

                Can people stop smashing my fucking head in?

The thought flashed hysterically through his head as he grunted and felt his knees collapse.

The door behind them began to crack, but Spinny paid it no mind, instead using the blade to clumsily slice open the front of his shirt- cutting deep into his flesh as she did so. Cronus’s head was spinning too much for him to effectively defend himself – when he lifted his hands to try push her away she slammed his head hard back into the floor with her injured hand, smearing her blood into his eyes.

She found the wire as he swore and struggled weakly to clear his vision and yanked it off triumphantly.

“Et voila. Je l’ai su. Meurs.”

She raised the machete again – and the door behind her exploded open.

It didn‘t stop her from trying to sink the blade into Cronus’ stomach, but he managed to roll with a strength born of sheer terror and suddenly hands were dragging Spinny, screaming and spitting, off of him.

He let out a shaky breath – and then flung his hands up just in time as Spinny managed to throw the machete at his head before Trident officers could wrest it from her grasp.

The machete bit into his palms and he flung it aside, horrified, the blade glinting with ruby blood – blood that was oozing from his chest – in his eyes – dripping from his hands –

He blinked and Spinny was gone.

                C’mon don’t lose it now – get home first -

 “Cronus, Cronus look at me,” a stern voice commanded, and he looked up into a glaring torch-light, “You’re okay – the cuts are superficial, but I just need to check that the headwound isn’t too bad – follow the light, look left-“

***

Back in the van with Pyrope, cleaned up and bandaged and wearing a knock-off Yves Saint-Laurent tshirt nicked from Spinny’s warehouse, Cronus suddenly felt himself too tired to keep his eyes open.

“Can I go home?” he asked weakly for the second time that day.

“Sure thing kiddo.” Pyrope said softly, “We got her – I’m going to push for the earliest possible court date and then she’s going away for a long time. Shit – if we could admit you were a part of this we’d have a good case for sexual assault on top of everything else.”

“Don’t-” he began wearily, but Pyrope continued hurriedly.

“Okay, sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” She held up her hands sarcastically, but her words were, for once, sincere, “We have to go back to the station, but then we’ll get a plain clothes officer to drop you near you auntie’s house. You’re done, Cronus, you understand? I’ll get your charges dropped and then if you keep your nose clean we’ll never even have to see each other again.”

                Cronus blinked, a memory of his father surfacing weakly

                                you gotta keep yer nose clean –

                I’m gunna fucking try, dad…

Cronus nodded to make Pyrope stop staring at him - then suddenly felt his blood run cold, remembering Spinny talking about Empress while he’d been wearing the wire-

“Don’t worry,” Pyrope muttered, reading the panic plain in his face. “There are certain people even I know better than to go after.”

***

When Cronus got back to Empress’ building, he found the door code he’d used before didn’t work. He stood staring blearily at the stubborn little red light on the keypad for a while, his sleep deprived brain unable to come up with an explanation.

She probably changes it every day. Idiot.

Just as he went to try the code for the fourth time (in case that somehow did the trick) the door suddenly swung open and he came face to face with Jin, who nudged him backwards to allow Empress, Meenah, and Aleesha to exit.

Aleesha was pulling a suitcase behind her and had a familiar guitar case on her back.

“Hello,” he said, for want of anything better to say.

Are they going somewhere? Why the suitcase?

Empress replied with a stinging backhand slap that split his lip.

“Wha-?” Cronus reached up to his smarting lip and Empress was suddenly inches from him, using the height her heels gave her to look down on him, her eyes incandescent with rage.

“I protected you,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his sternum, “I took you in, made you a part of the business – and this is how you fucking repay me? Going behind my back to work with the police?”

How did she know –

                                She’s the fucking Empress you idiot, she probably found out the second you stepped into the police station.

“And then you helped take down a boss I appointed and went about underminin’ the work we did together – not to fucking mention that this could make two very lucrative patches collapse.”

Cronus cowered before her, expecting another slap any second.

                WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU -?

“I just-”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear it.” Her voice was a deadly growl and Cronus wished fervently for some rift to open in the ground beneath him so he could be swallowed up by the earth. “The only reason I ain’t killin’ you right now is we’re family. But that ends now.” Another sternum jab, “You turned your back on us today so I’m turnin’ my back on you. Fuck off Cronus. Never talk to me again.”

Empress turned neatly on her heel and walked a few steps away, her angry, rattling breath suggesting it was all she could do to stop herself punching him out in the street.

The suitcase and guitar suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Well pick it up then, idiot,” Meenah hissed, “We don’t want you here, get it?” Cronus couldn’t help but notice his cousin’s hands were balled into shaking fists.

                Black belt in krav maga –

“Thought you were cool.” She spat, as he tentatively reached for the suitcase.

What could even be in here? I don’t really have any… belongings anymore…

Cronus turned to leave, and jumped when Meenah called out to Empress.

“Mum ain’t we gunna mark him? He’s a traitor.”

Mark me..?

Oh please don’t he thought fervently. He didn’t need any more scars.

He froze as he heard Empress’ heels click over to him and jumped as her hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turns to face her reluctantly, his stomach turned to water.

“Usually anyone who’s crossed me would get a nice little brand, right here.” She jabbed a sharp nail into his forehead and he let out an involuntary whimper. “But that would mark you for death, and I’ll honour my sister enough to leave her son alive. Now off you fuck darlin’.”

Cronus turned again, and determined this time to get home, as he’d been longing to all day.

***

Cronus hadn’t meant to walk to East Finchley, but the second he’d been out of Empress’ sight a swirl of thoughts overtook his brain and he came to outside Dr Hunger Café – the strange little greasy spoon Mr Vantas frequented. His feet were throbbing and his shoulders ached from the strain of the suitcase and guitar he carried… how many miles?

Too many to think about, he decided. By the time he made it to the familiar old house with the little red car parked outside it was almost dark, and he could barely keep on his feet let alone stop his vision from whiting out.

He paused before knocking on the familiar, peeling door, knowing he must look like a wreck and terrified that Mr Vantas would see Viv’s blood plainly on his skin.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just knock on the door and force himself back into their lives… but he was so weak and tired-

I’ll just sit down for a sec…

His knees were already collapsing so he resigned himself to sitting on the porch for a while.

The road was quiet, and the streetlights were just beginning to flicker on. Cronus focused on one, mesmerised, and tried to push away his exhaustion, his guilt, the throbbing pain from his head and the cuts on his chest and hands…

“Cronus? Where have you been – mum and dad’ve been losing their fucking minds.”

He started awake to find Kankri leaning over him, his dark eyes wide with shock.

“I… my auntie… but she doesn’t want…” Cronus’ tongue was too twisted to push all the information crowding his head out of his mouth, and Kankri frowned.

“You’re not going to … do anything stupid are you? I don’t think abba can handle that again.”

Cronus snorted humourlessly.

“Kankri, mate, everything I do is stupid. But I… I won’t upset your parents if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll keep my shit to myself.”

Kankri gnawed at his bottom lip, then dropped down to crouch next to Cronus, nudging his shoulder gently against him.

“I’m sorry, I probably sounded… that was insensitive of me – but I didn’t mean I want you to bottle anything up, that’s sort of the problem you had last time, wasn’t it?”

Cronus grunted noncommittally.

“I just meant… we care about you, okay? Stop getting hurt and disappearing,” to Cronus’ utter bewilderment Kankri’s voice was thick with tears, and the petit lad was suddenly flinging his arm around Cronus and holding him tight.

“It’s okay Kan,” he whispered, hugging back fiercely, “I’m not going anyway anymore.”

“Glad to hear it.” A deep voice said behind them, and Cronus turned to find Mr Vantas in the doorway.

Cronus stood quickly, too quickly as it turned out – he swayed dizzily and Mr Vantas caught him, then pulled him into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Cronus whispered deliriously as Mr Vantas patted his back and murmured it’s okay, you’re back, it’s going to be okay, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-”

***

Later, after Diti and Porrim had both hugged him and given him far more affection than he felt he deserved, Cronus sat in the cramped little living room with a cup of tea, Kankri and Porrim on either side of him to keep him grounded as the horrors of the last few days threatened to overwhelm him.

In the suitcase had been a heap of clothes with the note –

                We got these 4 u, u mite as well have them u ungrateful piece of shit

                E

And on top of them, in a brown envelope, had been the picture of him and Meenah playing in the paddling pool while his mum looked on.

On the back Empress had scrawled another note:

                She was killed in a gang incident

                Don’t think ur dad ever forgave himself 4 getting her involved

                Not ur fault.

And then, almost as an afterthought:

                She’d be proud u got out

                E

Chapter Text

It was early on a Sunday morning, but Mr Zahak’s shop was busy. They were still working on the backlog of customers who’d needed their help while the shop was closed, and Mr Zahak had bought on more staff to keep the little mechanics on Canrobert Street ticking over.

Horuss had been allowed to move out on the proviso that he still came back to work in Bethnal Green four days a week – and he’d do five days once the Islington branch of the Zahak’s shop was set up. The big lad had been working since 5am, and since Cronus didn’t like to be in their flat alone without him, he’d dragged himself out of bed and sat drinking coffee in the office while Mr Zahak worked on the paperwork from the recent flood of business.

Cronus liked Mr Zahak’s company. The big man spoke little, and asked less – which suited Cronus just fine. After a few preliminary remarks about the business, and how the boys were settling into their flat, Mr Zahak had barely spoken except to offer coffee every hour or so, or to mutter about how he preferred fixing cars to logging customer information and working out bills.

When the clock marked 9am, Horuss peeked his head into the office. His overalls were covered in oil and grime, and his face shone with sweat, but he didn’t look haggard and sleep deprived like Cronus did – used, as he was, to irregular hours and physical labour.

“Dad – I’ve fixed up the two Ford’s and made a start on the Volkswagon in 4B, but Layla has said she’d take over. Can we head off..?”

Mr Zahak looked up and grunted his approval.

“Thanks – c’mon Cronus,” Horuss grinned and Cronus couldn’t help but grin in return despite the burn behind his eyes and the queasiness of his stomach after four cups of instant coffee and too little sleep.

“Ta for the coffee,” he murmured, and Mr Zahak stood to clap him on the shoulder.

“If you come by for Horuss’ Monday shift I’ll take you both out for dinner after – La Forchetta is back up and running and I’ve been wanting Italian… or Pie and Mash if you’re not feeling like pasta.”

Cronus couldn’t help but cringe at the mention of La Forchetta, but he brightened up at Pie and Mash, and Mr Zahak nodded approvingly.

“See you boys later.”

Out in the May drizzle, Horuss linked his fingers with Cronus and began walking towards the station- but drew up short when Cronus stopped.

“What?”

“Can I…? You can go on ahead I just want to look…”

Horuss considered for a moment.

“Okay. Do you want me to come with or meet you at the station?”

“…Station.”

“Okay. I’ll pick up some milk and biscuits since I’m at it.”

“And bog roll. Oh – and hand soap – whenever Kan comes over he bitches about having to touch bars of soap to clean his hands. Fuck if I know why – soap’s soap.”

Horuss snorted, “Sure – anything else while I’m at it.”

Cronus shook his head, then started forward to hug Horuss.

“Cheers.”

“Are you sure you want to be doing this?” Horuss asked, pulling back a little from the hug, “I’m seriously gross right now.”

“Yeah you are,” Cronus said, squeezing tighter

Horuss groaned theatrically, then placed a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t be long, I want a shower - okay?”

“Okay.” Cronus replied seriously, then watched Horuss get to the Subway at the end of the road before turning around and walking back down Canrobert Street. He walked with the autopilot ease of familiarity, following the labyrinth of flats and houses, until he came to a stop outside his old home.

Once everything in the Elias Ampora & Associates case had been finalised, Cronus had been awarded a hefty chunk of his dad’s money, along with the deed to the house.

The money had been easy enough to deal with – with Mr Vantas’ help Cronus had set up a fund to help get young people away from the gangs. Mr Vantas has hoped Cronus would be more involved, but Cronus preferred to just be the funding. It was hard enough pulling himself out of the flat to go to his therapy sessions with Ankit - a therapist recommended by Diti - let alone running a charity.

The deed had been harder to deal with, as Cronus didn’t want the property, but as it turns out no one was keen to buy the Orphaner’s house - particularly as the Orphaner himself – along with countless others – had died within its walls. Thinking about dealing with the house gave him headaches, so for the last six weeks it’d sat, unwanted, on the market.

As he stood regarding the squat house critically, the front door swung open and his dad stepped out. Cronus gaped as the man fumbled in his pocket for the keys and locked the front door, his black hair swept back and glistening with oil.

Cronus’ whole body tensed up, and a mix of fear and joy battled it out in his roiling stomach. His heart was hammering, and his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth – unable, as he was, to speak.

A cry of “dad!” got stuck in his throat just as the man turned round –

And good thing, too, because the man was not Dualscar. His face was unscarred and unfamiliar – and now he was looking Cronus realised the man was too short and skinny – and since when would dad be seen outside in trackies anyway?

The man nodded when he caught Cronus staring, then paused.

“’Ere, ‘ang on – you’re Cronus ain’t you?”

“Uh…yes,” Cronus whispered, then coughed and repeated his answer.

“Yeah ‘fort so. I’m Guido – Mario’s eldest. Dad sed you wanted someone to pop in every week or so to make sure there weren’t anyway squatters or nuffink like that. Nice to meet you, mate.”

Guido clasped his hand and strolled off. Cronus waited until the man was around the corner before sinking into a crouch and whooping in lungfuls of air as the panic attack took him.

                Why the fuck would it’ve been dad you idiot. You saw his fucking brains blown out.

                                Why did you want it to be dad for a moment there?

The ghost of a half-heard song whispered through the panic

                                Was that you? Looked just like you

Strange thangs my imagination might do

After a few minutes Cronus managed to pull himself together enough to stand up and scrub at his face. The drizzle had permeated his clothes by this point and he was chilled to the bone, but he couldn’t help but give his old house one last glance before he left to catch up with Horuss – half expecting the door handle to turn again and another, more-familiar black-haired man to step smartly out of the door.

Was that you? Looked just like you

Strange thangs my imagination might do

Take a breath, reflect on what we been through

Or am I just goin' crazy 'cause I miss you?

He sighed and walked away.

Cronus stopped at an offie for cigarettes before catching up with Horuss, smoking one quickly and furtively under the railway arches before jogging the last bit to the underground station. Horuss was waiting under the awning of the eclectically named Offie & Toffee with his carrier bag of groceries. The second Cronus slunk up to him he wrinkled his nose.

“Thought you were quitting,” he said, the soft reprimand in his tone grating on Cronus’ already aggravated nerves.

“I am.” Cronus huffed, “I was down to two a day last week – do you know how bloody good that is – for me?”

“Yes, but you’re meant to be trying one a day this week and you’ve just bought another pack. I know what you’re like – you’ll want to finish it off.”

“Fine – you look after ‘em then,” Cronus snapped back, shoving the cigarettes and disposable lighter into Horuss’ carrier bag.

“Hey-” Horuss stopped him with a gentle hand before he went to walk out into the drizzle, “What’s wrong?”

Cronus cursed inwardly.

Don’t get lairy with Horuss, he’s nothing but fucking good to you

“Sorry. It’s… I shouldn’t’ve gone home. Bad mood. Got stressed out.” His voice sounded whiney and pathetic in his own ears, but Horuss nodded understandingly.

“Fair enough. And two cigarettes a day is fantastic. If you get stressed and you need one I get it.”

                You don’t deserve him.

Horuss drew two cigarettes from the packet and offered one to Cronus.

“Your dad’ll kill me when he finds out what a bad influence I am,” Cronus muttered as they lit up.

“Somehow I think he already knows.” Horuss slid his arm around Cronus’ waist and Cronus leaned in, chuckling weakly.

“Don’t let me have any more today.”

“I won’t.”

***

The flat was in Highbury. Not as close to the Vantas’ as Cronus had wanted, but it was unclaimed territory as far as gang involvement went, and it was convenient for Horuss’ uni.

The flat had two bedrooms, so they each had their own space, but Cronus would inevitably slink into Horuss’ bed at some point in the night – after nightmares of bloody hands and mangled bodies pulled him screaming from sleep.

Horuss never seemed to fully wake up when Cronus arrived, shaking and sweating in his doorway. He’d simply roll over, lift an arm so Cronus could slide gratefully under the duvet, then lower it again so Cronus was held safely in his strong embrace.

The livingroom was huge, high ceilinged and flooded with light when the sun shone through the two floor-to-ceiling windows, but Cronus preferred to stay in his bedroom for the most part. There was nothing wrong with the livingroom, but Horuss had started painting in there. Cronus lied and said it was the paint fumes he didn’t like – but really he couldn’t stand to look at painting after painting of bright, licking flames.

“You ever think of painting something else?” He’d said the other week, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible.

“I will,” Horuss had replied with a shrug, but he hadn’t yet, so the livingroom remained a reminder of a crime scene; a gnawing guilt.

                Sara and Rehin burned him to get at you

                And then they both turned up dead a few days after you murdered their boss

The memory of it – of their snarling faces, Viv’s pleading – and sometimes worse memories like Sara’s kiss or Rehin’s approving nod after he’d shot the purple lipsticked girl – surfaced whenever he saw the painting in Horuss’ little art corner.

When they got home, as soon as he finished locking the numerous locks on their door, Horuss made a bee-line for the shower, while Cronus headed for his bedroom, diving under the covers of his bed and closing his eyes gratefully.

It was always easier to nap during the day than at night. Waking up in the dark felt suffocating – like he was drowning – but waking up with soft light filtering through the slatted windows made the dreams more bearable.

Cronus spent a few hours of dozing in and out of sleep, with the half-remembered lyrics of the song he’d thought of earlier surfacing every now and then to bug him.

Yesterday,

Was that you? Looked just like you

Strange thangs my imagination might do

Take a breath, reflect on what we been through

Or am I just goin' crazy 'cause I miss you?

Do I miss dad?

The question caught him off guard, and his first reaction was

I don’t fucking know

Pressing further was like pushing at a bruise – uncomfortable; the not-yet-healed wound protesting – but after a while thoughts began to solidify,

I miss… knowing who I am – I used to know that I was his son…

Did that make sense? He almost faltered, but then remembered Ankit’s warm smile – Go on, there are no wrong answers.

I miss… having a home that felt like mine. I miss having an identity. And… yeah I fucking do miss dad. He wasn’t a good parent – he… neglected me, duffed me up – set the lads and lassies on me… but-

Cronus remembered his dad’s wide, genuine smile – how his eyes sparkled with happiness when Cronus mentioned making a friend.

And you wanted me to have a boyfriend or girlfriend, so you’d be proud of–

He froze, remembering the one time his father had said he was proud of him –

Cronus I - honestly I… I didn’t think you had it in you, but more fool me, eh? Blood will out and all that malarkey. I’m… proud of you. You did well.

He was proud of me because I killed a woman – Shaunie Begum – her name was Shaunie Begum - I mustn’t forget her name…

Cronus had tried to contact Shaunie’s mum - anonymously and through a go-between - in order to help financially with whatever treatment she needed, but the old woman had died of stage four liver cancer a few months ago.

The memory of his dad’s wide smile and approving look bought on the tears he was powerless to fight off. Wrapped in the duvet he held the blanket to his face and sobbed quietly.

I wanted a dad – that’s all – a parent to fucking look after me like everyone else got. I can’t decide whether I miss him or hate him and ‘m glad that he’s gone – because it’s both – it’s fucking both and it’ll never stop feeling like this…

The emotional exertion coupled with the nauseatingly early morning eventually dragged him into fitful sleep once more, and he only woke later when the bedsprings creaked and Horuss lowered himself down next to him, pulling Cronus into little spoon position and kissing the scar on his neck gently.

“Wh’ time‘sit?” Cronus groaned, pulling Horuss’ arms tighter around him and using one huge bicep to block out the sunlight shining in his face.

“Nearly one, so you better have some lunch before Porrim and Kankri come over.”

Cronus groaned again, “Why do they have to come over?”

“They’re our friends – and you like them.”

Cronus began to let out another theatrical groan when Horuss blew a raspberry on his shoulder and his protest dissolved into disgusted moans and laughter.

“Gross!”

“I’m gross, we know this.” Horuss said smugly, kissing behind Cronus’ ear and tickling the place just below Cronus’ ribs so he arched his back and laughed harder.

Cronus rolled over and licked the tip of Horuss nose – and Horuss jerked back, affronted.

“What, I thought you liked gross?” Cronus said innocently, chuckling into the kiss that Horuss pressed to his lips, and spreading his legs to accommodate Horuss’ bulk as the huge lad positioned himself carefully over him – keeping most of his weight on his forearms as he kissed Cronus deeper.

The words I won’t fucking break were Cronus’ watchwords with Horuss – that and more, harder, faster-!

You still want to be punished. You want the ache to be physical instead of this dull pain in your gut -

Cronus ignored the swirl of his thoughts, and let himself get lost in the velvet crush of Horuss’ lips, the way long hair tickled his neck, the grind of jeans on trackies and a growing insistence in the pit of his stomach.

He shuddered with need as Horuss mouthed at his neck and lowered himself more fully into the embrace, biceps straining to keep him just that little bit elevated. Cronus hooked one leg around Horuss’ arse and pulled him down while grinding up until Horuss gasped and tugged impatiently at Cronus’ trackies, raising his head for a hungry, messy kiss –

Plump plastic lips, the sour taste of cigarettes and coffee, bony fingers pushing their way up his shirt –

Cronus froze as panic took him and his heart began to pound

                No no get off me don’t touch me –

“Cronus? Uh… you need to stop?” Horuss pulled back, concern and guilt written across his face.

“Yeah,” he croaked, thankful that Horuss could recognise the signs now, and he didn‘t have to explain himself, “Yeah. Sorry. Not your fault – don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That one.” Cronus grunted, pushing Horuss off to one side, then giving him a peck on the cheek. “You ain’t done nothing wrong. If anything I should be feeling guilty for giving us both blue balls.”

Horuss snorted and rolled out of bed.

“Alright well if that’s off the table, we’d better have lunch before Porrim and Kankri show up – or Porrim’ll have my guts for garters.”

***

Cronus watched a Top Gear rerun while he ate – distracting himself from what he was doing while eating was another Ankit-tip, one which worked surprisingly well.

He’d just finished washing up the bowls when the buzzer went and Porrim and Kankri were bowling into the flat with hugs and news from the Vantas’ house.

“Can I skype Meulin here?” Kankri asked, already opening his laptop, “Our internet’s out.”

“Yeah no probs – why’s the internet out?” Cronus took the armchair as Kankri perched himself on the sofa.

“Apparently the builders opposite accidently cut through wires they shouldn’t have or something – cut the internet for the whole street.” Porrim said with a scowl, trying ineffectually to dry her drizzle-damp hair with her scarf, “Good thing I just started a new phone contract so I’ve got unlimited data for a month… Speaking of which – show me your phone.”

 “What?” Cronus tried to play innocent, but Porrim was having none of it.

“Your phone.” She made impatient grabby hands at him, so Cronus grudgingly unlocked his phone and handed it over.

After a few moments checking through the food-tracker app she’d made him download, Porrim sighed.

“This is saying you only ate, like, 400 calories yesterday. Either you’re not filling in your food, or you’re not fucking eating!”

It was the latter, and Cronus was loathe to admit it, but as Horuss walked past with cups of tea he checked the screen and nodded.

“That’s right. He’s just had pasta for lunch today though.”

“And breakfast?”

“…No.”

“Fucks sake – didn’t Ankit tell you to keep a food diary?”

“That’s between me and him – doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.” Cronus said with a grin, snatching his phone back and revelling in the angry huff he got out of Porrim.

“Thank you for the tea Horuss, I’m glad some people round here know their manners,”

“Watch it – it’s my house,” Cronus said, lounging back in his seat obnoxiously, “I could have you chucked out.”

“By who? You? Thought you said you were gunna start going to the gym, I swear you’re getting weedier by the day.” Porrim put her hands on her hips and glared at him from under perfectly lined eyes; a challenge Cronus couldn’t help but rise to.

“I ain’t weedy!”

“Enough!” Kankri yelled from the sofa, “I’m trying to talk to my sister and I don’t need all this bickering.”

Cronus stared at him blankly. “She’s deaf. You’re talking with your hands. Why‘ve we gotta be quiet?”

Kankri raised one eyebrow haughtily and Cronus had to stifle his giggle at the stern expression on Kankri’s youthful face.

                It’s like being lectured by a twelve year old

“If you must know, I’m trying to learn ASL – because that’s what Meulin mostly signs in nowadays. It takes a lot of concentration to translate thoughts from BSL to ASL mid-conversation.”

Cronus laughed at the worried little crease that formed between Kankri’s thick eyebrows – some days he looked so much like Mr Vantas it was scary.

“Go on then Kan, we’ll go next door.” Kankri beamed back at him and Cronus felt a little thrill of happiness. He still wasn’t quite used to happy moments without an ensuing traumatic counterpart, so each one was a wonder to him and he had to stifle the urge to run over and hug the diminutive boy – not only because Kankri would hate it but because he needed to keep up his cool routine in front of Porrim.

In the kitchen Cronus was presented with a binder thick with papers.

“What’s all this?”

“Legal biz,” Porrim said airily, “there’s a bunch of stuff you have to sign to say that dad can use the money you transferred to the charity account, and that he’s allowed to do stuff without asking you – I mean, he would anyway – but it’s just like saying you trust his judgement and –“

“Yeah, yeah I’ll sign, no probs.” As long as he wasn’t expected to do any work he was happy for Mr Vantas to use as much money as he needed to help get kids away from gangs.

Not that this cancels out anything of the bad stuff you’ve done kiddo – that’s not how it works

Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

                Shut up shut up fuck off. If I can help one poor blighter stuck in a shit situation then I’m doing something good

 “Also are you sure you don’t want your name or picture attached to any of the press releases or-“

“No.” He hurried to speak over her incipient protest, “Porrim I want to go back to school, I want to, y’know, get a job. I don’t want my face plastered all over fuckin’ billboards or whatever-“

“It’s gunna be tube adverts mostly – oh and an internet ad campaign SI’s setting up. But okay. I get it. You don’t want to be the poster boy for gang violence… Talking of school have you sent in your application to college yet or..?”

Cronus winced. He’d been trying not to think about the forms and half-finished personal statement that had been lingering in his laptop’s browser tabs for the last month or so.

“You have to do it before the end of July or you won’t get a place.” Porrim said, flicking his shoulder lightly.

“I know. I’m on it.”

“Are you?” She flicked again and he slapped her hand away.

“Yes.” He hissed, determined to get the fucking things done by tonight if it’d get Porrim off his back. That was probably her plan.

Fucks’ sake.

***

Later, after chatting with Porrim and Kankri had sapped all of his energy, Cronus curled in the armchair in the corner of his bedroom and picked up his guitar, strumming idly. It wasn’t that he disliked seeing Kankri and Porrim, he liked their company and loved them for the parts of him they were willing to overlook, but being around people set him on edge. It’s like he was holding up a mask – an I’m coping mask – whenever they were around – or whenever Diti invited him round for dinner at the Vantas’. The mask would get heavier and heavier and eventually he’d have to leave so he could drop the fucking thing.

Only Horuss was allowed to see him unmasked. And Ankit. But Ankit didn’t love him like Horuss did. Ankit’s gaze was detached and clinical – and there was a safety in knowing he was just a patient to the skinny psychiatrist, and not a burden like he was secretly sure he was to Horuss.

He strummed the first few chords of an old punk song, then scowled as the lyrics from earlier niggled at him again.

Yesterday

Was that you? Looked just like you

Strange thangs my imagination might do

Take a breath, reflect on what we been through

Or am I just goin' crazy 'cause I miss you?

It must be one of the songs Mikey had sent him…

He scrambled around in the bottom of his wardrobe and found his ipod. After clicking impatiently through songs for what felt like an age he found it -

I thought I saw you yesterday

But I didn't stop, 'cause you was walkin' the opposite way

I guess I could've shouted out your name

But even if it was you, I don't know what I would say

We could sit and reminisce about the old school

Maybe share a cigarette, because we both fools -

The ache in his stomach seemed to be pushing up into his throat, making his breath come in soft little gasps as the words told a story he could feel in his core.

A whole house full of dreams and steps

I think you'd be impressed with the pieces I kept

You disappeared but the history is still here

It's why I try not to cry over spilt beer

I can't even get mad that you're gone

Leavin' me was probably the best thing you ever taught me

Cronus found he was gripping his thighs so hard his fingers were white. He released them carefully, then itched distractedly at the dual scars on his temple.

Had so much hatred, now it brings me shame

Never thought about the world without you

And I promise that I'll never say another bad word about you

I thought I saw you yesterday

But I knew it wasn't you, 'cause you passed away, dad

There it was. That’s why the song had been calling to him all day. Cronus let out one tiny sob, then let the laughter that had been bubbling up from his stomach burst out into the room.

Horuss knocked on the door and stood in the doorway, confused and hesitant as Cronus hugged himself and laughed with tears running down his cheeks.

“You okay?” He said quietly, when Cronus had collected himself.

“I think… I will be.”