Read Online Night's Favour by Richard Parry - Free Book Online Page B

over here.”   He gestured at a bus shelter nearby, brightly lit advertisements surrounding an area of dry seating.
    The leader nodded, as if agreeing.   “That’s good.   We don’t like it, do we boys?   We don’t like it when they run.”   Jitters and nasty laughter rippled around the ring.
    Someone behind Val — he didn’t see who — pushed him hard on the back.   He stumbled forward towards the leader, who pushed back again from the front.   “Hey now.   Watch your step.   You almost ran into me.”   Val felt nervous, a sick wet feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    John stepped in front of Val, hands up.   “Hey.   No need for that.   We —”
    The leader broke in.   “You a faggot?   This your queen bitch here?   Well.   You’ve got to pay.   A faggot tax.”   More laughter.   Someone pushed Val from the side, making him stumble again.
    “Well, see now lads, there’s a problem —”
    John was interrupted again, this time the leader’s voice angry.   “Ain’t no problem, cunt.   I said you got to pay.   You and your fag pal here.”   He seemed to consider.   “Want to see my blade?”
    Someone kicked the back of Val’s leg, and he went down on one knee.   As he started to rise again, one of them punched him hard in the kidney, and he cried out.   He could hear the heavy, eager breathing of the group around them.
    John moved then, swinging with a boxer’s grace slightly muddy with alcohol.   It was good enough and he hit one of the thugs in the face once, twice, before wrapping the kid up in a hold and slamming a knee into his gut.   The youth fell back, and John turned around and delivered another jab followed by an uppercut to the one who’d hit Val in the kidney.   One of them stepped in to try and grab John, but he was too slow.   John batted the kid’s hands aside, grabbed his hair, and slammed his fist into the youth’s face.   They stepped back a few paces, watching as John turned slowly in place.   Waiting.
    It was as John reached a hand down to try and help Val back up that they caught him from the side, a punch Val didn’t even see coming hitting his friend in jaw.   John staggered, and the leader stepped in to deliver a punch to his gut.   They grabbed John from the sides, held his arms, and delivered more punches to his face, his stomach.
    Val was still on the ground, a clump of them landing kicks in on his body.   He’d got his hands up over his head somehow, but their boots hit his body over and over.   All of this was done without words, an efficiency of violence as the group used fist or foot against flesh.
    The leader lost interest in John when he passed out, his head lolling loosely.   They let go his arms, his body hitting the pavement like a sack of meal.   Stepping around John, he approached Val, crouching down to be closer.   The group stopped their beating, stepping back to catch their breath.
    “This is it, see?   See it fag?   I said look at it!”   He reached and slapped the side of Val’s head.   He’d drawn a small, thin blade.   Tapping the point against his palm, he said, “Got this from my bro.   Every week, I cut someone with it.   Every week.   And it’s getting towards the end of the week, and no one’s been cut yet.”
    With that, he stabbed sharply down, the blade cutting into Val’s leg.   Val’s cry of pain seemed to galvanise their leader, who stabbed again and again, going into a frenzy.   The little blade entered arms, legs, chest, stomach.
    The leader paused then, panting, and looked up at the group around him.   They were standing in silent vigil.   “What?”   Blood dripped from the end of the knife, and was all over his hands, his jeans, and his boots.   He looked down at the body, and seemed surprised to see Val dragging himself away.
    Val was whimpering, a small animal noise of pain and fear.   A slick of blood, dark red leaking out around him, marked his progress across the