Chapter 35: Make it Hollow - The Night Market

The blow caught him square on the jaw.

Laik reeled back with a grunt, the padded edge of Reese’s glove scraping past his cheekbone. He spat bloodless air through his teeth and readjusted his footing on the mat. It had been just over three weeks since the confrontation with Horus and his joints still ached. Not enough to aggravate, but enough to remind him not to push it too much. That was his excuse, at least, whenever he tasted the mat.

Reese grinned through her mouth guard. ‘Come on, Laik! Head in the game! Horus isn’t going to take it easy on you, so neither will I.’

Laik shrugged. ‘I thought you were a friend.’

Reese adjusted her guard. ‘You hear this? I thought you didn’t do friends, mate! Thought things like that just held you back. You changed your tune now?’

Laik took a breath, adjusting his gloves. ‘I’m just saying it’s not a terrible idea.’

Reese circled him, light on her feet, like she was born to it. ‘A friend would tell you to keep your damn guard up. I could drive a lorry through that gap.’

The two of them exchanged a tight flurry – gloved jabs, shoulder rolls, calculated slips. Laik blocked most, absorbed a few, then ducked under a cross, and spun. Reese kicked high, but he caught the leg mid-air, swept her grounded foot, and sent her to the mat with a solid thud.

‘Oof,’ Reese hissed, blinking up at him in surprise.

From the sidelines, Duncan chuckled and folded his arms. ‘I’m just impressed that he asked for help to spar at all. I never see him downstairs with the rest of us in the gym. Way he brawls, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s a mess! I’m telling ya, relying on that monster over the years has done a number on him. Not saying he’s slow, but he scraps like he’s invincible. Look – doesn’t keep that guard tight. Hands! What did she say, huh?’ Duncan barked. ‘Christ, you’re gonna need a miracle.’

‘Look, it works. That’s the main thing.’ Laik extended a glove to Reese.

‘Barely,’ she muttered, taking his hand and rising. ‘Ugly technique.’

‘I’m not trying to win a trophy,’ he replied. ‘Just avoid a funeral.’

Duncan leaned on the barrier, watching. ‘There’s some kickboxing in there. Shoot fighting, maybe. It’s all very technical, Laik, but it doesn’t mean squat when the big guy comes out. Why even bother training properly when you can just turn big and bust the place up? You know you’re going to smush him like a bug.’

‘That’s not the plan.’ Laik rotated his shoulders in turn. ‘He doesn’t get off that easy.’

‘Sounds more like you’re doing it the hard way – not that I’m one to judge.’ Duncan picked at his teeth. ‘Where’s he been, anyway? Swan said he was a no-show, and I can’t remember the last time I saw him.’

‘Like I said, not on the table.’ Laik flexed his hand inside the glove. ‘This is just going to be between Horus and me. It’s how I want it.’

Reese cracked her gloves together, raising a brow. ‘Aw, what’s the matter? A little performance anxiety?’

Laik steamed forward again – a flurry of tight jabs, sharper hooks – grabbed her wrist mid-punch and threw her again, harder this time. She grunted, winded, laughing despite herself.

‘Alright, alright, oww . . . you know we’re only sparring, right?’ Taking his hand once again to pull her up.

Duncan looked about the arena, half dressed with tiles missing and ribbons of cables jutting from walls that were waiting to be ran. He dropped a piece of gum in his mouth and loudly chewed.

‘I still can’t believe you agreed to this fuckin’ shit-show. Way too flashy. That and the possibility of getting your ass kicked in front of hundreds of people. I tell you, if the old man threw me to the wolves like this, I would have told him to kiss my ass.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. The difference between me and you, is that I’m aware of what’s at stake. Horus is already out of control. He gets another taste of blood and who knows where it ends? Or what that does to those who look up to him. I’m trying to prevent a bigger mess by taking him out of the picture for good.’ Laik took a mouthful of energy drink, passing one over to Reese who desperately sucked the nozzle.

From the shadowed entrance of the partially constructed arena, a slow, deliberate clap broke the moment.

Mortis Cavendish stepped forward, amused.

‘A noble idea. And quite unrealistic.’

The floor fell quiet as the older man approached, hands behind his back, gaze pinning each of them in turn. Duncan burned bright red, unsure where to put himself.

‘He agreed to this shit-show, as you so eloquently put it, because he understands the significant risk to our Family,’ Mortis continued. ‘This isn’t about fists and glory. It’s about face. The name. The respect. All things elevated above the individual.’

He looked Laik up and down, giving a smile of approval.

‘You’re looking good, son. I was concerned that the crash may have hindered you for longer.’

‘Nothing a rest didn’t fix, sir.’ Laik wiped sweat from his brow, breathing steadily. ‘I’ll be doing us proud. Do you really think Dominic Ode believes in this “peace” of his?’

Mortis gave a humourless smile. ‘I think Dominic believes in himself. And that’s enough. Men like him . . . they don’t see the pitfalls when they’re drunk on their own legacy. They’re more than happy to dance along the edge. Oblivious to the danger.’

He looked over the arena – the rising scaffolding installing new seating, lighting panels being installed, the black Cavendish banners draped over the balconies to provide a majestic background of the proceedings.

Mortis turned back. ‘If they’re up to something, all this will show their hand. That’s why you’re not just fighting, my boy. You’re bait.’

‘Sir?’ Laik lowered his drink.

‘One of the vamps we pulled after the tower scuffle . . . young, stupid thing. Didn’t have much fight in him when the questions were being asked. He spoke like he knew the end was already coming, rattled off something dramatic, saying that something was stirring in the streets. Mutters of a reckoning, the Families falling. All very theatrical.’ Mortis looked up, his gaze steady. ‘But he also said Horus has been planting seeds for years. Whipping up the unaffiliated like he was building something.’

Laik frowned. ‘And you think Dominic’s part of it? I’ve seen him talk about Horus myself. He’s far from a fan.’

‘I think Dominic Ode doesn’t do anything without five layers of intention. And if Horus is making a power play behind his back, Dominic would crush him. Ego would make sure of that. But if Dominic knows and willingly lets it happen . . .’ He let the idea hang in the air. ‘Then we have a bigger problem.’

‘You said I was bait.’

‘Yes. Let’s say all is true and Horus is planning something. He’s dangerous, but pride is his weakness. You beat him in front of an audience – not kill him, but humiliate him – and he’ll bleed influence. That will fracture the illusion Dominic’s been holding up. If he’s playing us, the cracks will show.’

Laik tensed. ‘So I keep Horus alive. That’s the plan?’

‘Correct.’

Laik found his next words surprisingly thornier than what he was used to.

‘And what if he doesn’t return the favour?’

Mortis noticed this and stepped closer, voice low and measured.

‘Then you make sure he remembers who he’s dealing with. I don’t care what state you leave him in. But you don’t kill him unless I say so. Make it loud. Make it impossible to ignore. Show the city – and Dominic – that whatever they’re planning . . . it won’t go unanswered.’

Laik’s knuckles cracked beneath the gloves. ‘You’re telling me to hold back after he almost butchered us, Quinn included. And . . . And Viola? I’ve known Horus for a long time, he chased me halfway across the country. This whole thing between us started long before I was even part of this Family—’

Mortis’s eyes narrowed. ‘But you are part of this Family now. A petty grudge is inconsequential. What rests on your shoulders, lad, is more than individual survival. It’s reputation. Legacy. If the Cavendishes appear weak, we lose more than ground – we lose trust. Keep that in mind when the time comes. Like you said: do me proud.’

And with that, Mortis turned and walked away, his coat sweeping behind him, shoes echoing sharp and certain on the arena floor.

Laik stood in silence, fists at his sides, processing what just happened. His breathing drew staggered, as though he had been struck harder than any blow Reese could have landed.

Reese glanced at Duncan, then at Laik in concern. ‘You okay?’

He didn’t answer, just moved back into position, skimmed a foot behind him and raised his fists in stance. His face fell to complete seriousness.

‘Let’s go again.’

Laik walked the corridors of Leroux Tower with a slow, automatic stride, too deep in thought to notice the world around him. The floors were humming with activity – Enforcers barking into radios, Market crews ferrying pallets of lighting and sound rigs across marble. He shared an elevator with half a work crew that gave a few shy stares. He didn’t comment on their bright hardhats. They neglected to draw attention to the bruises and K-tape on display from his training gear. He got off on his floor.

He kept his head down. Hoodie pulled over, hands in his pockets, shadows in his eyes.

Mortis’s words wouldn’t stop playing in his head.

You’re bait.

That was the phrase. Flat, uncaring. Tossed like meat into the middle of a pack of hungry dogs. He may as well have laughed when he said it, like it wasn’t some joke at his expense.

He passed a glass wall where the city pressed in, glittering and enormous, night spilling like ink across the skyline. Tower lights pulsed, mirrored in the flat, wet rooftops. Rain slapped the glass.

He wasn’t angry. Not exactly.

But he was tired. Bone-deep tired. Not from training, or from the ache in his ribs, but from the gnawing question in his gut that he couldn’t let go.

Was that all he was to them? A tool? A threat dressed up in polite family colours?

It hadn’t bothered him, not really. Not for years. Mortis gave him orders. He followed them. Life was easier that way. And the Sins . . . well, they did what they wanted. He just pointed them in the right direction. Everybody won.

But lately, something had shifted.

Maybe it was Pepper. Maybe it was the thought that he could want something more than survival. That he could want to live on his own terms. Without the thing inside him. Without being weaponised. Feared. Used.

He stepped into a quieter hallway, away from the noise of the Market set-up. The carpet here dulled his steps. Paintings lined the walls, showcasing old glories. None by the hands of the Cavendish Family themselves. Always someone on their behalf.

This wasn’t the Cavendishes’ fight. It was his.

He reached the door to the flat, slapping the keycard against the reader. The lock clicked open.

Laik pushed open the door and stepped into the low-lit hallway. The smell hit him instantly – chemical and sharp. Glue, paint and something he suspected to be burning. The corridor was half lit, warm with the glow of ceiling spots. He kicked the door closed behind him, slung his kit bag onto the bench by the wall. His breath still came heavy from training; his skin glistened beneath the cling of his vest. But every inhale carried the pungency of . . . something.

He wandered down the corridor. The scent grew stronger the closer he got to the dining room. Rounding the corner, he stopped short.

The place was a mess.

Paint pots sat open across the table, their rims crusted with dry pigment. Scraps of cloth and newspaper soaked with test brushstrokes littered the floor. Brushes leaned drunkenly out of mugs filled with cloudy water. Scissors, paints, a few layers of materials he wasn’t sure of, silks or satins, maybe, wire, lengths of green plastic. A glue gun seemed to still be on, and oozing. A lamp cast a sterile white glow on the chaos below and seated in the middle of it all was the culprit.

Pepper was perched on the edge of the chair, sleeves rolled, fingers stained red and silver. A half-empty bottle of craft glue balanced precariously beside her elbow. She leaned back just as he entered, stretching her arms above her head, satisfied.

‘Perfect timing,’ she said brightly, breathless from whatever detail she’d just applied. ‘Waddya think?’

Laik looked blankly.

‘I think it’s a bloody mess.’

She reached behind her and held something up.

The shape made his breath stall. A flower half wilted, petals as delicate as silk, red with a crimpled copper dusting across the ridges. Veins of pearlescence delicately ran through its stem and traced the leaves. It shimmered, like light through stained glass. The Eternal Rose!

Laik stepped forward in disbelief, eyes narrowing. ‘How on earth did you get—’

He stopped himself as she grinned uncontrollably.

‘That’s not the real one.’

‘No, but it had you going for a moment.’

She set it gently on a linen square at the centre of the table like a jewel centrepiece.

‘It did. It’s . . . spectacular,’ Laik bent over her shoulder, ‘I could have sworn that you nabbed the real thing.’

She said, voice half-proud, half-mischief. ‘A day’s work, a few memorised details from seeing it in the Vault, and a lot of YouTube tutorials on floral modelling.’ She beamed at him. ‘Not bad, right?’

‘What are you going to do with it?’

Pepper snorted. ‘Obvious, ain’t it? I’m going to swap ’em.’

‘You’re going to what?’

She repeated herself, slowly, firmer.

‘Suh-whar-p. Th-em-muh. Jeez, clean out your ears. During the Night Market,’ she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘I walk in, take the real Eternal Rose, drop this in its place, and walk out with the prize in my pocket.’

Laik stared, dumbfounded.

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

‘You cannot seriously believe that’s going to work. It’s insane.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it doesn’t even count as a plan. It barely constitutes an idea.’

She lifted her shoulders. ‘That’s why it’s genius! It’s so simple and direct nobody would ever expect it. I’ve been in there, how many times? The Relic Gallery is as open as anywhere else. There’re no cameras inside. No pressure sensor thingies. Laser whatevers. Just one big-ass security door that closes the Gallery off in a lockdown. Security’s made to keep people from getting inside, not to stop something getting out. Presumably because nobody would be that stupid to do so—’

‘Clearly they hadn’t met you.’

‘Exactly – hey!’ She swatted him on the arm.

He shook his head, pacing slowly around the edge of the table. ‘Your big scheme . . . is just replacing the Rose. And you think the Archivists aren’t going to notice?’

‘They will, just not right away. They won’t know what they’re looking at unless they run further tests. And by the time that happens, it’ll be long gone.’

He stopped, arms folding across his chest. His gaze shifted from the fake Rose to her face. She looked tired. Not physically, but somewhere deeper.

‘I hope you’re right,’ he murmured. ‘Because if you’re not, this is going to get very messy, very fast.’

Pepper didn’t flinch. ‘You’ll just have to trust me.’

He gave a quiet scoff, rubbing the side of his jaw. ‘I do. That’s what’s terrifying.’

The hum between them settled into a tense silence, not quite discomfort, but something close.

‘And we have a diversion,’ he said at last. ‘A proper one. Something big enough that no one’s got eyes where they shouldn’t.’

Pepper cocked her head. ‘The fight?’

‘Mm-hmm. Mortis thinks Dominic’s bluffing – playing nice to stall, maybe even laying the groundwork for something worse. I don’t know. But Horus is clearly up to something. There’s tension brewing, you can feel it in the air. The Families will be watching. Everyone will be. If it’s all a ruse and it cracks, we’ll have all the cover we need.’

‘I suggested the same thing to Canis. Looks like it was taken to heart.’

‘Mortis wants me to humiliate Horus out there and nothing else. Apparently, it’ll be enough to make them flinch.’

‘After all he’s done? That was his daughter Horus tried to off, and—’

‘I know. But it’s what he wants.’

‘Then what do you want?’

Laik’s eyes glimmered. ‘I have had this asshole on my tail ever since I became what I was. I can’t remember what it’s like not to expect him around every corner. But I want to. I want to put him in the ground for everything he’s done. Me, you, the Romany people, the Family . . . Viola . . . And I don’t want it to be clean.’

‘Oh.’ She blinked at his candidness. ‘I mean, it makes sense.’

He exhaled, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

‘God, let this all work. I can’t wait to have this thing out of me,’ he said, voice quieter now. ‘Y’know . . . didn’t think I’d ever let myself imagine it. Figured it was just . . . part of me now and forever. Till you came along.’

His gaze dropped to the Rose again. ‘I didn’t let myself hope. Not properly. Not until now. We’ll do this, get it out of me, save your sister. And this plan of yours? I don’t gamble. I do sure things. And . . . it’s gonna work. You know how I know?’

Pepper looked at him, lips parted like she wanted to speak, but held back whatever she intended to say. Instead, she simply shook her head, looking away.

‘Because we both want it too much to fail.’