No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(43)

“Show me.”

Walter stared at him, uncomprehending. In the distance, thunder boomed again.

“Defend yourself with the knife,” Neil said.

“But—”

“I give you leave. Cut me, prick me, do your worst.”

Walter narrowed his eyes. Clever boy, Neil thought. He knew there was a condition coming. “But if I manage to come away unscathed—”

“Un…?”

“Unhurt. Untouched. If I come away intact and I am able to take the knife away from you, you tell me where you were off to.”

“Sure.” Lightning flashed, the light illuminating Walter’s cocksure expression.

“The truth, Walter. Give me your word.”

“You’ll never get this knife away from me.”

“Then you have no reason not to swear to me.”

Still Walter hesitated, which Neil took as a good sign. The boy considered his word to be binding. He was not yet beyond reform.

“And if I do cut you? If I keep the knife?” Walter asked.

“Then you’re free to go. No questions asked and no retribution.”

Walter frowned at him.

“That means I won’t try and hurt you. No revenge. Agreed?”

Walter nodded.

“Then go ahead. Come after me.”

Walter took a moment to study him—another good sign in Neil’s opinion. The boy didn’t lunge or act without thinking. There was hope for him yet. And then Walter seemed to back away, almost as though he would run. Instead, he pivoted and slashed out at Neil. It was a good move. A good bluff.

But not good enough.

Neil stepped to the side, easily avoiding Walter’s strike. When Walter’s arm jabbed at the air where Neil had been, Neil reached out, twisted Walter’s wrist, and the knife dropped neatly into Neil’s other hand. Neil twirled the knife and pocketed it.

Walter stared for a long moment. “You cheated.”

Neil crossed his arms. “That’s a serious accusation. I’d think before making it if I were you.”

Walter opened his mouth as though to protest again, then closed it. He muttered something that sounded like You didn’t cheat, then lifted his face to glower at Neil. “How did you do that?”

“Maybe I’ll teach you some day. But right now, you owe me an answer.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Walter crossed his arms over his chest.

“You gave me your word.”

Walter seemed to consider this. Neil waited. Neil felt a growing sense of anticipation. He didn’t know why he should care whether the boy honored his word or not, but he wanted Walter to do the noble thing.

Finally, Walter let out a huff of air. “You won. Fair and square. I’ll tell you that I was on my way to the Ox and Bull.”

Slag’s place. Neil tensed. Had Slag not only recruited Goring, but the children as well?

“Are you part of Slag’s gang?”

Walter shrugged.

“You want to be.”

Walter looked up at him. “People are afraid of Mr. Slag. If I work with him, he’ll keep me safe. I’ll be one of his boys.”

Neil nodded. He and Walter had more in common than Neil had expected. Both of them longed for family. Joining Slag’s gang of criminals wasn’t the way to find it.

“And what sort of work would you do for Slag? Pick pockets? Pilfer shops? I’m sure he has a dozen rackets for a boy of your age.”

“He can use me.”

“And that’s exactly what he’ll do. You steal for him, and if you’re caught, you suffer the consequences while he gets rich.”

“I’m young. The judges are lien…lenen… They go easy on you if you’re young.”

“They might not give you as much jail time, but you’ll find yourself in Newgate for a few months. Do you have any idea what happens to young boys like you in Newgate?”

Walter swallowed.

Neil nodded. “So you have an idea. It’s not a place you want to spend even one dark night, much less sixty of them.”

“Maybe I’m willing to take my chances. What have I got to lose?”

Those were words Neil knew well. How many times had he said them? Thought them? At his lowest, his most hate-filled, Neil hadn’t thought he had anything to lose. But that was before the nightmares and the skittishness every time someone shot a rifle. Neil hadn’t realized he’d lose the men he counted as close as brothers. He hadn’t counted on losing pieces of his heart, bloody shard by bloody shard, every time one of his men died.

“Look around you,” Neil said, his voice hoarse from emotion. Walter didn’t seem to notice. Neil put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him so he could catch a glimpse of the orphanage. “This is what you have to lose.”

Walter snorted. “A leaky, old building filled with a bunch of smelly boys? I say good riddance.”

Neil held Walter in place when the boy would have shrugged him off. “You’re not looking hard enough, Walter.”

Walter stilled and looked around again. “I don’t see anything special.”

“I do. You are fortunate to have a roof over your head.”

“A leaky roof.”

“Not when I am through with it, but I promise you there were nights during the war I would have given all the coin in my pocket for a leaky roof or any sort of roof. You know what else?”