I could never seem to get it right. I mean, it was still fun, I didn't want to stop or anything. But his body was literally shaking as he awkwardly tried to put his hand on my back then gave up and just hung both his arms lamely by his sides. And honestly, his mouth was pretty lame too. He wasn't doing anything with it. He was just sort of sitting there with his lips pressed against mine like he'd been turned to stone all of the sudden. And every once in awhile he'd jerk a bit, but I was pretty sure that was reflex. Like when someone's just been shot and their body jerks all strangely. Just the nerves, settling as they die. I pulled away first, getting bored.
Billy Wallington stared back at me, his eyes still closed and lip still puckered. I laughed and he thought it was because I'd enjoyed it, so he laughed too. Me and the red haired freckled boy who'd been my friend for the past two months were sitting in the loft of his barn. There was hay spread all around us and it was getting everywhere. In my sweatshirt, up the side of my trousers where I wished Billy was man enough to put his hands. He'd made sure to promise me as we climbed the ladder half an hour ago that this was where his father stored the fresh hay that hadn't been pissed on by any cows yet. He hadn't known it then, but I'd brought up here to get him to kiss me. And I'd gotten that in about five minunes, however that didn't make him good at it.
"You kiss like an eleven year old," I informed him and his freckled ginger face fell so dramatically that I laughed again, dramatically sprawling myself into the hay so my hair could get covered too and match the rest of me.
"Have you kissed a lot of eleven year olds?" He asked self consciously, rubbing his arm in some obsessive compulsive way I'd observed he did whenever I intimidated him.
"Yeah, loads. When I was nine." I grinned at him, putting a piece of cow piss free hay in my mouth and chewing on the end of it.
"You were kissing when you were nine? Didn't your parents get on your case about that? If I'd been kissing when I was-"
"I've only got a Mum," I cut him off before it got ridiculous. "And no, she doesn't care." I laid on my back, gazing up at the tiny holes the wood left in the barn ceiling. I could hear the rain pouring down outside. We'd ducked into the barn in the first place for that reason. I was hoping it would stop soon cause I was bored of this boy, but had to walk a quarter mile through cow dung fields to get back to the house. I'd be soaked by then.
"I feel like your Mum doesn't care about anything," Billy commented, flopping down beside me. I stared at his body, studying every inch of him in seconds, before he even realized I'd looked his way. He was all arms and legs. He was shorter than me, but only by an inch or two and I could pretend he wasn't when he was sitting down. His hair was tomato red and too long because he thought that made him look cool. But he didn't brush it so it was sticking up at all ends and there was always some type of debris in it. He looked like a farm boy and he dressed and smelt like one too. But he was a boy. The only proper one I could find around here.
Normally my mum and I stayed in cities. Tall, lavish skyscrapers way above everyone else where it was always bright and loud and we had people to get us stuff. But for the last two months, we'd been in the bowels of Surrey at the country house where it was supposedly safe until my mum found a new victim. Victims were what made us safe. And rich and powerful, which were the only things that mattered. Finding Billy Wollington had arrived out of pure boredom. He lived at the run down farm next door and since I couldn't go anywhere- we never stayed in one place long enough for me to go to school- I'd decided Billy could entertain me. But it had taken me two months to get the stupid boy from the most religiously conservative family in the known world to give me a peck on the lips. Well, that was a bit more than a peck. There was saliva exchanged. But my Mum could do it in like two minunes, I'd watched it a hundred times when I was supposed to be asleep or not in the room. Maybe fourteen year old boys were harder than grown men. Grown men weren't scared.
"If I looked at a girl when I was nine, my mum threatened to give me the paddle," Billy informed me in his northern accent which was the only thing appealing about him.
"Yeah, cause your mum is normal. Mine's not," I told simply. I wished the rain would stop so I could go home. I'd had to go out in the first place because my mum was meeting with new clients that were supposed to help us find other clients that would then get us out of the stupid country. She didn't like me in the house while she was doing business stuff- which was almost always- because I was 'bad or her image.' Apparently, having a teenager was not appealing to the people she was trying to get in her bed.
"You mean hot," Billy grinned. It looked all wrong when he got a mischievous glint in his eye. Like God was going to smite him at any moment. Or his crazy mum would climb down from the rafters like a spider with her paddle.
"Yeah, that too," I said casually, playing with the piece of hay I'd had in my mouth. "But I'm hotter, right?"
"Well, you're younger-" I rolled over so I was facing him and in perfect position to pounce.
"I'm hotter, right?" I repeated threateningly.
"Yeah, yeah, you're way hotter," he said instantly. Smart boy. I pushed myself up on my elbows and wiped some of the hay out of my ink curls. That's what my mum had always called them. The black, inky Ayza curls.
"I need to teach you how to kiss Billy." His little boy face dropped again. "Before you move on to year ten, I mean. Because that's when girls start getting boobs."
"You've got boobs," Billy frowned. "And you're only in year eight." He took all of this very seriously. He wasn't smart, so he couldn't pick up on the teasing tone in my voice. But that was good, I liked playing with him. And I wasn't in year eight because I didn't go to school. It was boring, I knew all the answers.
"I'll be fourteen in two weeks. And I've got boobs because I'm not like other girls," I told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I never went to normal school, so I aged differently. Here." I took his pale hands and put them on the belt of my jeans. Billy stared at his own appendages like they were no longer a part of his body. "We have to actually touch for this to work," I reminded him patiently. "And you've got to look in my eyes. Girls like that." Billy stared at me, a fly caught in a web.
"Now first, tell me I'm pretty or something."
"You're- you're beautiful," he stuttered. His face was flushing as red as his hair. I took off the cheap plastic heart locket I was wearing and put it in one of his hands after I unclenched his fingers from my belt.
"Hold this. It'll get in the way. Remember that, if a girl is wearing a necklace, it will get all tangled in your hands and stuff and that ruins the mood. Now lean in slow. And you have to do this part cause you're the guy. So you're in control right?" I was doing my best to not laugh. No man had ever been in control of my mum. That's why she was good at her job. But Billy didn't need to know about that. He was too innocent.
"Tilt your head a bit," I advised. He moved it so much, so I reached up and readjusted it like he was my doll. "Now close your eyes." He did. "And press your lips gently against mine." This kiss was a bit better. He didn't go all stiff like he had before. I gently started to move mouth against his so that he'd move too. We kissed softly for about a minute until I got bored and started to actually kiss him for real and nudge my tongue against his mouth. But the weather had another idea. An extremely loud crash of thunder shook the entire barn and Billy jumped a foot in the air as the lightning illuminated his freckles and I realized how dark it had gotten.
"I'd uh- I'd better go in," he mumbled. I wrinkled my noisy cutely, but he was done with my charms. "You can stay for dinner if you want, I'm sure my mum won't mind," he said shily. "She likes you." All adults liked me. I made them. That was my superpower, making people like me. I knew what to say to them, I knew how to read their body language to tell them exactly what they wanted to hear. Basically, I could charm people.
"I can't. I've gotta go home before dark." That was my mum's one rule. If it's too dark to see if someone might be watching me, come home.
"I'll drive you back," Billy offered as we climbed down the ladder. I patted all of his horses as we went. By drive me home, he meant I could sit on the handlebars of his bicycle like we were in an old movie. But it was better than walking through the dayloode.
He was slow pedaling across the flat field of his family's crops with my added weight. I wished he'd hurry up. It was darker than I wanted it to be and my clothes were soaked to the bone in five seconds. Lighting illuminated the entire field for a second and the booming thunder followed four seconds later.
"Why do you keep lookin round?" Billy asked, panting slightly and pedaling hard. I ignored the question. Way too complicated to tell him the truth and I didn't feel like making up a creative lie.
"Won't your mum be angry you're not home already? I can walk the rest of the way."
"Naw, it's fine." It wasn't fine, I could tell from the tone in his voice. But he was in love with me. Or he thought he was. Real love didn't exist. It was just something people made up in their heads and then defined for themselves. Real love is a fairytale, my mum had told me once when I asked her why I didn't have a dad.
Once the lights of the country house came into view, I could see there were two black cars with tinted windows in the driveway with throw away plates. So they hadn't left yet.
"Drop me here," I ordered. "I don't want your mum to be mad at you." I jumped off the handlebars so he couldn't protest.
"Alright," he agreed. "I'll see he tomorrow, then."
"Wait," I called when he'd already pivoted his bike the other way. "You have to kiss me goodnight." I leaned down and put a peck on his lips, a nice one this time. I grinned cheekily at him. "See you tomorrow, then."
"Yeah," he stuttered. I watched him pedal away towards his house for a minute to make sure he was safe. The rain was getting even heavier and my sweatshirt hood was doing nothing to help me now. I ran towards the lights of the manor, my trainers sinking into the mud well up to my socks. I slowed down once I was approaching the vans and walked slowly toward the door. There was a tall man in a black suit with a silver earpiece in standing just inside the door. A watchdog. That was interesting. Clients normally didn't bring their own. He'd clearly been watching me run through the rain cause he was not surprised at all to see me.
"Hi, I live here," I told him cheerfully. I shook my hair out for good measure so he could see how soaping wet I was. He looked like an assassin, earpiece and tattoo behind ear and all, but I could tell from how clean shaven he was that he was payed pretty well so he was valued by his employers. So he probably had a wife and kids and stuff he had to support. And I was a kid. As I thought, he moved aside and let me in without a word.
"Thanks," I told him in the same cheerful tone. My shoes squeaked on the old floorboards and I knew I shouldn't linger in the hallway. But I wanted to assess first. They were in the dining room, I could see the light under the door and hear my mum talking softly. A deep man's voice was answering her. There was two other guys in there, probably like the doorman. I wasn't sure why this client was so important he needed personal body guards. But I never got told anything. I would have gotten closer to the dining room door so I could actually hear what they were saying, but doorman was watching me and I knew I was meant to go upstairs. And I wanted to change my clothes anyway.
As I turned toward the steep, red carpeted staircase, I took one peek inside the cracked door. They were sitting at the table and I got a quick view of the man who was talking. He was in his mid thirties, wearing a fancy suit and had an ordinary face framed by close cut brown hair. But it was the ordinary ones that were the most important. The whole thing was already weird with the guard dogs. I walked as slowly was I could up the stairs, knowing where to step to avoid creeks. And then the man turned. He looked right at me, I could see how dark his eyes were and even the inquisitive look on his face. I knew I hadn't made a sound, but he'd known I was watching him. I bolted up the rest of the stairs to my room and shut the door. My mum would not be happy if she thought I was snooping. Hopefully he wouldn't tell.
One of my favorite parts about this house, well my only favorite thing, was the old vents. They were real easy to hear through. I could push my ear against the one in my room and hear muffled voice from the dining room. I had to concentrate pretty hard, but I could make out a few words. The man was talking in an amused tone.
"How old is she?" Shit. He had told on me. I was going to get in trouble now, thanks man.
"Thirteen," my mum's familiar voice answered him quickly. Fourteen in two weeks, I wanted to whisper back. Just thirteen made me sound too young. But that's what my mum wanted, she wanted to move the conversation back onto business. She'd told me to go out three hours ago, these people had been here a long time. And it was getting late, it was almost seven thirty. I wanted food but I couldn't go down and get any until they left.
"So the phone and what else do you needed sorted?" The man asked. Okay, boring. My clothes were now soaking the floor. I stopped eavesdropping in favor of stripping them off for new ones. Almost identical jeans, a black T-shirt and red sweater because March was still freezing out in the bloody country. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. I looked like a drown rat. My ink curls were plastered to my face which was far to pale for hair so dark. What was left of the makeup I'd put on to seduce Billy was running in streaks down my face and my lipstick was smudged. I took it off, no more boys to impress. If I had to talk to the men downstairs, I wanted to look like a little girl anyway. They would see me us unthreatening. That was a mum tip. I let my hair be so it would dry properly and then leaned back down to listen to the vent some more. But then something caught my eye.
There was movement below my window. Figures were walking across the same field I had to get back from Billy's farm. The way they were moving wasn't normal. They were like robots, all stepping together, no arm swinging, not carrying anything, dressed in black. It was too late for silostors. These people were not friends. My heart started to pound, but I couldn't do anything, I'd seen them too late. The man in the middle raised his arm and I saw a flash of silver before a deafening boom- louder than the thunder- shook the old glass in my window pane. A gunshot. The doorman was dead.
I didn't stop to watch anymore. A normal person would have been frozen, but I was normal. I knew how to think when stuff like this happened. It had been happening for as long as I could remember. My mum pissed a lot of people off with her job. Sometimes, even though we moved loads, those people found us. There was more guns going off, in the house now. The intruders were fighting with the now needed guard dogs in the dining room. I couldn't think about if my mum was okay. I had to get the phone.
The stupid, bloody phone. My mum's camera phone was her second and favorited baby. Our entire life was on it. Everything that kept us alive and protected. All the photographs, intell and blackmail that my mum used to threaten and get things from powerful people. And it was that phone the intruders were after. It was what they were always after. My mum kept it in different spots every place we stayed, but it was always the safest one. There was no locked safes in this old house, so we'd just had to bury it.
I ran across the hall, trying to ignore how bad the ancient floor was shaking from the gunshots below me. My mum's room had far less shit in it than mine did. She was always ready to run, never bothered to unpack. I ran into the closet, tossed aside some clothes, a bunch of boxes of more clothes and finally three huge patchwork quilts. In the last one, I could feel the bulge of the camera phone where she had hidden it in the lining. I ripped it out, shoved it in my pocket and kept moving. They'd look for the phone in the house with her. They didn't know I was here to take it away. If I ran, they wouldn't find it. That's all I was allowed to think of. Protect the phone. Protect the phone and it will protect us.
I opened the window and quickly assessed there was no easy or fast way to get down. But I didn't have a choice. There were footsteps coming up the stairs, they'd gotten past the first defence and were looking for people in the house. I climbed out onto the roof shackles. It was a straight drop down now. I carefully lowered myself backwards, gripping at the veins that were growing up the side of the Tudor style brick. Lucky for me, no one had taken care of this house in a long time and vines were old and strong. Until I was ten feet from the ground. That's when the rain made them slippery and I lost my footing. I fell the rest of the way, hitting the ground hard on my back.
I ignored the dazzling pain, scolding myself for not being able to catch myself with my hands like I knew I was supposed to. No time, just run. But run where? It was all farm land. There was nothing to hide behind. There was no time to hotwire one of the cars. Shed. I could hide in the shed. I bolted towards it, not looking behind me, not listening to the sound of the struggle in the house. It was unlocked, just full of old lawn mowers and junk the previous owners left behind. But junk was good, junk meant places to hide. I climbed onto the second floor where the boards creaked more than I wanted them to. People were coming toward me. Even breathing was too loud. I squatted behind a pile of wood that was just high enough so I didn't have to flatten myself completely to the ground. It would take me too long to get up if I had to do that. Squatting meant I could jump up if I needed to. I should have grabbed the rusty saw below me on my way up. But I wasn't fast enough for that, I didn't see it.
The shed door was opening. They'd seen me come in. My heart sank. There was only one exit and two men were now standing in front of it. Shit! I was done, and more importantly, I had the phone. If I could get to the saw, or the hammer, maybe I could fight back, run again… One of the men made a tsking sound like he was calling a dog.
"Where are you girlie? We saw you come in here." American? What the hell did Americans want and how did they find us way out here? Well, it was obvious what they wanted. The phone in my pocket. "Come on, darlin. You can't hide in here for long." He gestured to the man with him. "Check the loft." I shut my eyes for a second. Think, there's a way out of every situation, I just had to see it. I could jump over the side, it would hurt, but it wasn't that far down. Then I could grab the hammer, hit one of them, maybe make it to the door, run toward the road and hope someone was driving by…The shed door opened again. It was a smaller figure this time, much too small.
"Oi, what-" A gunshot cut off the slightly high pitched, shaky voice and a second later, the lanky body hit the ground. Billy. I could tell even in the dark. I'd studied his body. Kill shot, right through the head. I could see his bike parked outside the door. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my scream, screwing my eyes shut tight now. Block it out, block it out…
"Jake, what the hell is wrong with you?!" The man who'd called me like a dog demanded. "That was a kid!"
"I thought it was another one of those british-!"
"You just shot a kid, Jake!" I tried to stay as still as possible, muffling my breath, keeping my eyes shut to pretend it wasn't real.
"I'll check him, don't worry, I'll get the phone-"
"He doesn't have the phone, you idiot! It was a girl that ran in here, I saw her! A girl with dark hair. She's still here." It was quiet for a moment, too quiet. I kept my eyes shut. There was nowhere to run, they were going to find me now. Even with my eyes shut, all I could see was Billy's body lying on the ground with a hole in between his eyes. The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of more gun shots, a lot of them this time. I couldn't stop from screaming this time, but it was drown out by the fight. A body hit the ground, another body. And then footsteps running.
"Go after him," a deep Irish voice said. The man from the dining room, the one who'd seen me. I heard tires squealing, more gunshots hitting metal this time. The car got away, I could see the headlights going. It was quiet again. There was just creaking footsteps as the client man walked forward. My ears were ringing from the shots and from the sound of my own heartbeat.
"It's alright," the man said softly, such an unusual sound after all the booms and the shouting. The rain was still coming down hard, the wind was whistling past the creaking shed roof. "It's alright, you can come out. I'm working with your mother, I'll take you to her." I opened my eyes. They'd been talking, didn't mean they were working together though. For all I knew, he hired the Americans who just shot up the place and killed Billy.
"My name is Jim Moriarty," the man called, making sure I could hear but still in a soothing sort of way to get me to trust him. But I wasn't stupid. I didn't fall for the poor little kid voice. "The American's are dead, except for one. He got away, but we'll find him." It was casual, the way he was talking. Like there hadn't just been a shootout.
"You can keep hiding up there and wait for your mother, that's fine. But I figured you might be a bit cold. So I'll be here if you decide to come down." There was something odd about him, something just slightly off. And for some reason, I was moving. I was crawling out of my hiding spot so I could look out at him. My eyes had adjusted to the dark now and I could see his grin as he looked up at me.
"Well, there you are. Figured you wouldn't want to stay up there." He was pacing over to the stairs, but I'd stopped watching him. There were three bodies on the ground. Jake's, one of the assassin men that worked for the strange man and Billy. Billy looked so small next to the two grown men. Why had he come back? He was supposed to be home by seven, he'd been late already. His mum would be worried about him. But then my eyes found something. He was clutching something silver in his right fist. My locket. I'd taken it off to kiss him. He'd come back to return it.
"Hey." It occurred to me that I was alone with this strange man, that I should probably be looking at him. But I couldn't stop staring at Billy's face. His eyes were open, he'd landed on his back and he looked so scared. "Do you need a hand to get down?" The strange man, Jim, held out his hand. I started it, not really wanting to take it, but doing it anyway. After I'd taken his hand, he helped me down the last two rungs of the ladder.
"Don't look at him," he adviced me. He moved his body so I couldn't see around him. "What's your name?"
"Ayza," I answered automatically. My voice sounded weird. It sounded weak and afraid. I couldn't sound like that, not in front of this man. That made me a target. I needed to be strong, I needed to get to my mum. If she was alright. Why wasn't she coming for me?
"Your mother's fine." Somehow the man had read my mind. "I'll take her to you, yeah?" He was talking slow like I was stupid. Or in shock. Was I in shock? Was this what shock felt like? The man started guiding me toward the door by my arm, but then he stopped suddenly. He forgot to put his body in front of me so I couldn't see Billy. His eyes were glazed over and glass looking. There was blood trickling into one of them from the hole in his head.
"You have the phone." I realized that the man's eyes were fixed on the buldge in my pocket. "Oh, clever girl. That's why you ran." I met his eyes, confused by his praise. And I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I took the phone out of my pocket and held it tight against my chest.
"Don't worry, I don't want it," he assured me. "Now come on. I'm sure your mother is worried sick about you two." I paused as he was leading me out. Billy was right in front of the door. To get out, I needed to step over his body. Jim stopped too, understanding. That was rare for a killer, which I'd now assumed he was. And a crazy one. I could tell by his eyes.
"Come here," he said. I stared at his arms which he had held open slightly. "I'll give you a lift. Trust me." I did. Why did I trust him? I didn't know him and I'd learned from the time I could speak not to trust anyone, especially strange men. But I walked forward anyway. He put his hands around my waist and lifted me- and the phone I was still cradling tightly- effortlessly over the body and back into the pouring rain.
"There. Alright?" he asked. I stepped away from him. He didn't try to touch me again, he knew I'd follow now. I realized as we walked back toward the house that my arm really hurt from when I fell climbing out the window. That meant my adrenaline was coming down, which meant the shock would end soon. I needed to find my mum. As soon as that thought was passing through my head, I saw her. She was standing in the light of the doorway talking to two more men who hadn't been here before. Or I hadn't seen them. She turned as soon as I saw her and broke off at a run toward me. And then I knew I was safe.
"Ayza!" she pulled me into her arms like she was shielding me from the rain. "Are you alright? Are you okay?" I nodded, glancing at Jim who was watching us silently. "You've got the phone?!" My mom realized, relief and shock flashing across her face.
"Yeah, I got from your room and climbed out the window," I explained. My voice was steadier now, that was good. As long as I didn't think about Billy, I was fine. My mum made a sound that was a mixture of a sigh and a sob. She took the phone from my hands, kissed it and then kissed my head before pulling me back into her arms.
"She's smart," Jim said approvingly. "They would have found if she didn't take it. One of them got away."
"Thank you," my mum said lightly, not sounding at all like herself.
"Oh, I'm not done yet," Jim said in a lazy tone. "Get in the car, I'll take you somewhere that's- uh- not here." He winked at me.
"Why?" My mum asked. I pulled away from her a bit so I could look at both of them, but still stayed under her arm.
"Well, you're no good to me dead," Jim informed her. "And I liked the sound of our arrangement before we were interrupted. You know what they were looking for, don't you?" My mom held the phone tighter in the hand that wasn't wrapped around me. "And if it wasn't for your daughter, they'd have it. Therefore, you have my protection." My mum nodded quickly and stirred me toward one of the black cars. One of the random guys who had shown up was holding open the door or us.
"So we're just gonna go with him?" I whispered once we were shut in the backseat by ourselves.
"Yes, he'll protect us," my mum said, glancing out the window at the exchange going on between Jim and the men who worked for him. There were three of them now, where the hell did they keep coming from?
"Who is he, Mum? Why's he helping us?" She was about to answer me, but then he got into the passenger seat and one of his guys got in the driver's side. The driver somehow knew where to go cause a second later we were pulling away from the manor house. I didn't have much stuff, we moved too much and had to bail a lot. But I had some cute clothes I would have approached grabbing first. But that wasn't so important, because I'd thought of something else.
"Billy's mum," I said out loud. I pulled away from my mum's arm and leaned on Jim's seat in front of me. "The boy who was shot, his mother won't know what happened to him." Jim reached for his phone wordlessly.
"Brax, the dead boy in the shed-" he leaned backwards toward me. "Does have Id?"
"On his bike," I told him. "But he lives- he lived in the farm across the corn field."
"-take the boy's body to the farm across the field. Tell the family it was a random shooting." He hung up the phone.
"Thank you," I mumbled, leaning back again. My mum was being quiet cause she seemed to want to impress this man and didn't quite know how to deal with the fact we were getting help. But she put her arm around me again and held me tighter. She'd tucked the phone safely away so she could hold me with two hands. In the mirror, I saw Moriarty looking back at me. He smiled to himself before looking out the front again. I had a feeling something about me had impressed him. And I also had a feeling that he wasn't going to let us go now.