20 Years Later by Emma Newman Read Free Book Online Page A

Bloomsbury Boys.”
    And with that, the old man shuffled off, this time heading east towards the area where he had saved Zane from the Hunters. Zane watched him go and then ran into the house.
    â€œMum! You’ve got a present! From Callum!”
    Miri emerged from the kitchen. “The man who looked after you?”
    She took the package from Zane as he nodded and watched eagerly. She carefully unravelled the scrap of material to reveal a dainty shawl pin in perfect condition. It was made of bright silver that had clearly been polished carefully. A delicate Scottish thistle decorated the top of it, and Miri smiled broadly when she saw it. “How lovely!” she exclaimed. “Is he Scottish?”
    â€œHuh?” Zane asked, bemused.
    â€œNever mind,” she said and pinned it to her favourite shawl that lay on the armchair.
    â€œI’m going over to Jay’s for a little while, ok?”
    Still smiling at the gift, Miri nodded, saying, “Be back before dark” as Zane slipped out of the door.
    Callum had been right. When Zane arrived, most of the Bloomsbury Boys were clustered tightly around Jay in the middle of the square. Grame was posted on the edge of the territory, and even though Zane smiled warmly at him, Grame’s greeting was colder than usual.
    â€œI reckon Jay wants to see ya,” he said, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched.
    â€œOkay,” Zane replied, remaining sunny despite the reception. Perhaps he could help fix whatever was making him so bad tempered.
    The murmur of the gathered Boys dissipated as he approached, and the ones nearest to him moved apart to open a way to Jay in the middle. Zane noticed the absence of nods and smiles and regretted coming to visit.
    â€œHello,” he said, smiling despite his nervousness.
    â€œZane,” Jay said, straightening to his full height. “Funny you should come over now. We were just talkin’ ’bout you.”
    The Boys closed in behind Zane, forming a tight circle around him and the young gang leader. Zane’s mouth went dry. “Me?” he replied, trying his best to stop his voice cracking under the tension. He failed.
    â€œYup. See, we was wonderin’ sommat, and now you’re ’ere, maybe you could give us some answers.”
    â€œUm, okay.”
    â€œYesterday, you did sommat weird. That Gardner, when he was dyin’, you touched him. On the chest.”
    Zane nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I did.” There was no point denying it; they had all seen it happen.
    â€œThe thing with Gardners,” Jay said louder, with more showmanship, “is that the only way to touch them is with the sharp end of yer knife, right, Boys?”
    â€œRight!” several of them cheered.
    â€œAnd, the thing about that,” Jay continued, “is it ain’t to do nothin’ but kill ’em. We don’t stick ’em with our knives to be nice, do we, Boys?”
    â€œNo!” more joined in, some snickering.
    â€œYou ain’t got a knife, Zane,” Jay rounded on him. “And you didn’t look like you were tryin’ to kill ’im.” He let the statement hang in the air. “So what I wanna know is, if ya didn’twanna kill ’im, what the hell were you doin’?”
    Zane’s stomach cramped with tension. He curled his hands into fists and thrust them into his pockets so Jay wouldn’t see them shaking. “I … I don’t know. He was hurt –”
    â€œI know!” Jay interrupted. “I was the one that done it!”
    There was a mixture of cheers and laughter from the assembled, but Jay didn’t look amused. Zane swallowed, peeling his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
    â€œMark ’ere,” Jay jerked a thumb at one of the tallest Boys, “says you threw up when the Gardner died.”
    Zane nodded slowly. “Y-yes … I was sick.”
    Jay scowled. “Why?”
    â€œUm