Page 108 of Drift

She stood there, looking at Light and saying nothing as he stared back, keeping the same quiet, dropping all aggression. Not all psychopaths were killers and could recognise another one who did or the blackness bleeding into their eyes. Light hadn’t seen it until two years ago, when he’d caught it in Gray’s when Gray had come down into the basement to diffuse thelast gas cannister Light had used. That’s when he’d seen just how dangerous Gray could be. He’d seen it for the first time in Martin’s eyes too. Maybe a trick of the light, but he hadn’t seen it in Jack’s since, which really fucked with the whole warrior gene if it did exist. How could one be a psychopath, born that way, another a sociopath? What did that say about the whole nature versus nurture debate? Jack had to have been born a psychopath to start all this off, right?

“Well stop y’gawkin and close your mouth. There’s another pandemic around… apparently.” The girl looked him up and down. “What y’want?”

Laughter and chatter carried on down the hall, but just past that, the scent of fried chips… fish.

“Food.” Light kept his look down the hall. “I… I was told I could get a meal here.”

“Yeah? No. Fuck off. Lockdown, or in your case: lockout.” Giving a curt smile, she started to shut the door.

Light jammed a foot in it, and she eased it open as she rolled her eyes and chewed a little louder on her gum. “You’re picking a fight with the wrong twin, love.” A half-smile came his way. “I’ll crack your nuts open if you stop me shuttin’ this door again.”

Light moved his foot, but kept a hand on the door to keep it open. “I… I can pay my way.” He shifted the violin on his shoulder. “I mean, I’m not the best at playing, but for food, I’ll sell a few kidneys.”

Cocking a brow, the girl looked him up and down and let out a dark smile. “You still have some? Lucky you.” She seemed to weigh something up. “Why didn’t you lead with that? At least if you fuck up over fondling violet there, it won’t be a pure waste of my time.” A flash of eye. “We can sell that heart for ya.”

“Kidneys.” Light didn’t smile. “I said I’d sell my kidneys. I need my heart.”

“But youareopen to selling those kidneys.” She grinned at him. “See, now we can be friends.”

He got a wave in and wasn’t entirely convinced she was joking. “Marcus,” she called back into the hall. “One for you, guv’na,”

Quiet hit the room off to the left, then a moment later a huge “Ooooo,” from a number of kids drowned out the running around coming from upstairs.

“In there.” The girl pushed open the door. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She tilted her head and a shine came to her eyes. “Just sharpening a few… tools.”

A chuckle came from his earpiece. “Oh ain’t they sweet here?” said Simon, and it was damn good to hear his voice again.

“Shush.” That came off Martin.

Light nodded at the woman, just a little, then after making sure she headed down into what really smelled like the kitchen, he stepped in to the living room.

He didn’t know much about the setup inside a “foster” home, and this room took him back a little with the size. Open plan, living space, with an archway through to maybe a dining room that added an L shape to part of the ground floor. Along with a real Christmas tree and decorations, everything from Xboxes to PS5s made a home in one corner with gaming chairs, and sofas looked comfortable, almost new, with part of a pool table visible in the dining area that littered the floor, but… kids. So many bloody kids filled the living room and beyond and… how couldso many be missing from homes? Light frowned. How could they not be… missed?

Ranging from eleven up to… god knows what, “pips” either stared his way or ignored the hell out of him as they played on their consoles, Switches, or phones. Yet no litter touched the floor, no smoke or alcohol stained the air. Just space provided for kids and gaming, a box of masks for going outside, and… noise. A young boy darted past him, out into the hall, bustling him about.

“Gets hectic here. Hope you’re okay with that?” Jackson came from the kitchen, the scar running left to right on his throat calling him out. He offered Light a hand a moment later. “Name’s Marcus.”

“Ah. The same as Jude with not giving out his real street name,” whispered Raif in his ear. “Respect it. Jackson won’t trust you with his name until he sees you have the talent to earn one of his beds.”

Light didn’t offer a name back, and he dug his hands a little further into his pocket, frowning down at the offer of a hand.

Jackson nodded, looking a little easier and withdrew his offer. “Good. You’re not stupid enough to pass on personal information.” He offered a smile but there was no warmth in it. “So, you heard you could try and escape the government bollocks over a pandemic and win a meal here, huh? You know we don’t actually get subsidies from them? They’re reserved mostly for Cabinet orgies.”

A young lad looking no older than Oliver Twist came over and went to take Light’s violin off his shoulder. Light shifted away, not happy, never when it came to his instruments. “Ask before you touch, yeah?”

“Easy.” Jackson came in and offered to take it off him instead as the kid glared at him and turned back for his mates. Light took longer than needed looking down at Jackson’s offer of a hand, mostly because it gave him chance to stare at it for a moment.

“Clear. No acid burns.” That came off Raif. “Show him a little trust, kid. Just… play dumb a little. He’s not a Night-walker, no, but that doesn’t mean he’s not running with them. But that young kid’s just come up to you for a reason, one Jackson watched how you reacted to. Remember they’re all musicians here, so some are going to get curious to see if you have a good one.”

Light eased his violin off his shoulder and offered it over.

Jackson took it off him eventually. “You’ve looked after this, so you know musical instruments get broken or lost out there,” he said to him. “That’s when allowing someone to share yours in here if theirs breaks brings payment back your way: they allow you to use theirs when yours breaks, so if one of these kids likes the look of yours enough to come over and show an interest in your violin, you let him look.”

Roughly touching his forties, Jackson was good-looking in a rough way, but his hold of Light’s gaze was too long, too… intrusive, to the point it carried more an animalistic quiet before it decided whether to gnaw into bone. Even the most gorgeous of animals took on a meaner look after years of neglect, and that underpinned Jackson’s whole look. “You think you can play this to earn a meal here?” Jackson handed the violin back, then pinched a coffee off a girl who passed him by. She tutted, then headed back into the kitchen.

Light shrugged. “I’m hungry. I’d play with fire if you asked me.”

Jackson snorted and shook his head. “We already have one talented arsehole for that. But thinkers survive here, sheep don’t. I ask you to play with fire, you’re answer should always be: after you, dickhead.”

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