The Tin Bird

Of those who hunt cadavers

Chapter 5: Of those who hunt cadavers

“Would you quit shak'n?” Asked Breather when they were well within the safe confines of West End. “Even if he saw us, do you really think he'd recognize our faces from one passing glimpse in the dark? The only thing you an' I got to worry about is filling our quota for the night.”

Miff was still looking each way with every turn they took. He felt certain that at some moment the person with the lantern would come running at them with the shovel they'd left behind. It was gonna give him night terrors, he just knew it.

“Let's go home,” he suggested, “I'm starved for a good night's sleep I am, and you got Maybell waiting-” This statement became muffled as Breather took his brother by the collar and shoved him into the brick wall of the alley.

“Now you listen 'ere,” said Breather, “neither of us is gonna 'ave a home to go back to if we don't meet the quota. That's that an' that's final.”

He dropped Miff who coughed once, straightened up and continued to follow Breather as though nothing so out of the ordinary had happened. It really wasn't all that out of the ordinary anyway. “Says you,” he mumbled. “Say, what did you find on that deader back in the yard?”

Breather put a hand in his pocket tentatively before removing it empty handed. “Noth'n really,” he said, “just some piece of junk the ol' beggar had.”

Miff narrowed his eyes. “If it's just an old piece of junk then why can't I have a look-see?”

“Because I says so,” said Breather.

“So it is something.”

“No it's...well if you must know it's this.” At that, Breather dug in his pocket and took out a small object hanging on a long chain. It was a longish black pendant cut to a point at the end. The shape reminded Miff of the crystals that hung from the fortune teller's tent on Peddler's Ave, but it wasn't the color of any crystal he'd ever seen.

“That's a strange look'n gem you got there, Breather,” he said.

“Aye, but a gem it is.” Breather closed it in his palm again and hid it away. “It might not be worth much, but I'm thinking I'll take it back to Maybell. Girls like gems, right?”

“Not ugly ones,” Miff stated, much to Breather's annoyance.

“Oh what would you know, anyway? You couldn't pay one to touch you.”

“Could too! I mean...Not that I'd have to.” Miff pulled his frayed coat closer to him to ward off the bitter night chill. A wind from the north had begun to rattle the chimneys of West End. It was pulling most of the meandering populace into the warmth of Tub's tavern, which was humming from the activity. Miff couldn't help himself from staring longingly at the thought of a full mug. He looked at Breather and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Breather glared at him.

“Now how can you think about ale at a time like this?” He asked.

“My hands are shaking something terrible, brother.”

“We've got work to do!”

“It's just a wee small break.”

Breather looked prepared to argue, but his own thirst got the better of him. “Oh alright,” he said, “but just the one pint and we'll be off. I've got a parched throat myself.” So the two of them stepped into the crowded tavern.

It was a loud and unscrupulous lot that night. There was a band of sailors fresh off the shipyard singing dirges on one end. On the other there were the usual drunks from West End who were attempting to join in the songs and failing miserably while spilling ale on themselves. Joined in the mix were soldiers on leave and some very friendly ladies who were trying desperately to rid them of the weight in their pockets. Miff and Breather had to push through the lot of them in order to get to the counter. And once they had their drinks, it was time to discuss business.

“How are we going to find a fresh deader by the end of the night?” Asked Miff. He had swallowed half his mug in less than a minute and was already thinking about buying another. But it was spending money he didn't have if they couldn't finish their job.

“Maybe we'll get lucky,” Breather replied with a shrug. “Who knows, maybe some old drunk doesn't make it home tonight when he's stumbl'n away. There's lots who fall to bad fortune when they take to the drink.”

Miff suppressed a shudder. When Breather said things like that it made him think they'd turned into the same things that had scared him so much as a child. 'Don't go out at night, Miff,' his mum had said. 'Them butchers will steal you away like you never existed.'

“Don't say things like that,” he said. “What would mum say if she-”

“Mum's gone, and if she could she'd tell us that we got to look after ourselves the best we can,” said Breather. “All things said and done we could be do'n a lot worse.”

The door to the tavern opened and a lone figure slipped into the fray. Miff only noticed because he was looking anywhere to avoid his brother's resolute expression. He would not have given the man a second glance except for the fact that he did appear to be on the search. His face was hidden under the shadow of a hood, but underneath it Miff could practically feel those eyes meticulously scanning the room.

“Breather,” said Miff, “I think we should leave.”

“What?” Grunted Breather. “Your work ethic improve suddenly? I've just gotten comfortable-”

Miff kept his mouth shut and nodded in the direction of the newcomer.

“What? Him? He's probably just look'n for a stiff drink like everyone else.” Breather turned away with a heavy sigh. “You got to stop be'n so scared all the time. Not every strange look'n person is out to get you.”

“He's com'n this way...Breather, he's seen us.” Miff's heart was beating so fast he thought it might just stop altogether. When the newcomer's pace suddenly quickened toward them he was on his feet and ready to bolt. then he saw the man reach into the pocket of his coat for something and he grabbed Breather by the arm and pulled with all his strength.

Breather uttered a loud curse as he fell from his stool. At the same time, however, a shot rang out to shatter several glass bottles that had shared the level of Breather's head. He gave Miff a look of disbelief, but neither paused long to reflect on the moment.

“I don't believe it, you was right about someth'n!” Said Breather.

“This way!” Miff sprinted behind the counter and pushed his way through the back exit. He heard Breather wheezing behind him as they entered into a dark alley.

“I never knew someone to chase a corpse thief down with a loaded barrel,” growled Breather. “Some people I tell you. You'd think they value the dead more 'an the living.”

“Let's get out of here before he finds us again,” said Miff. “This way.” He was about to turn around the corner when the hooded man stepped out to block his way. Miff noticed two things about the man before he forced his legs to move in the other direction. The first was that his coat had fine silver fastenings on it. The second was that he had a wide ring on his finger with some kind of symbol on it. A bird, he thought.

“Miff!” Breather got a hold of the back of his shirt and pulled him away.

Miff began to run. At first he heard only the sound of his feet pounding on the cobblestones and Breather's not far behind. Then he heard a shot. Another one followed. When he reached safety behind a few large crates in an alley, Breather was not behind him. Breather was nowhere to be seen.