Read Online Our Lady of the Streets (The Skyscraper Throne) by Tom Pollock - Free Book Online Page A

Gutterglass’. She’d lied for her faith and betrayed people for it, and ultimately she had cradled all the scraps of it that were left in her garbage hands and put it all in the girl who was now embracing her shaking father a few feet away.
    Most of all, Pen remembered the cold anger in Gutterglass’ voice as she’d said, ‘
Faith I
’
m all out of, and not freshly, I
’
m afraid
.’
    ‘You told her.’ Pen sounded stunned, even to herself, as she turned to face Beth. ‘Her, but not him’ – she nodded at Paul, who tightened his embrace on his daughter – ‘her, but not me.’
    Beth stayed within her dad’s arms as she said, ‘
Like she said, Pen, she
’
s a doctor
.’
    Pen swallowed. She felt like she was going to be sick. She was panicking. She looked at tearful Paul Bradley and at Beth, and then she turned back to Gutterglass. She’d lost control. There was no making this right; there was only what she’d come down here to do.
    ‘As a doctor then, you have to tell her to go,’ she demanded. ‘It’s the city that’s making her sick – she can’t save you, none of you. She needs to leave. Tell her to go, all of you!’ she demanded, looking from face to unreadable face. ‘She needs to hear it from you, so tell her to get out. She won’t listen to me,’ she snarled, ‘so you have tell her to go!’
    That last shout seemed to suck all the noise out of the room and left a heavy silence in its wake. Pen’s vision blurred. She felt moisture streak down her face. She tasted salt.
    ‘
I told you, Pen
,’ Beth was speaking as gently as she could. ‘
I can
’
t
.’
    ‘But … but why not?’ Pen didn’t understand. ‘They know now – they
know
. If you stay, in a few days or weeks or months you’ll be dead and then they won’t have anyone to protect them anyway. So what are you staying for?’
    ‘
A few days, or weeks, or months
,’ Beth said. She left off hugging her dad, but left a hand on his arm. ‘
You
’
re right, Pen: the city is killing me. Every time I feed on it it makes me sicker – but that doesn
’
t magically mean I can live off anything else. London
’
s become my substance, Pen. If I step off these streets, I starve
.’
    Her green eyes reluctantly met Pen’s teary gaze. ‘
That
’
s what I couldn’t tell you, Pen. That
’
s what I didn
’
t know how to say – not that I
’
m sick, but that there
’
s no way for me to get better
.’
    Pen stared at her. She lifted a hand towards her, but it felt clumsy, useless, and she let it drop.
    ‘Oh, B,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    Beth came to her then and wrapped her arms around her. Pen returned the hug fiercely, feeling the warmth of their cheeks next to each other, street to scar. Something bubbled up in her chest and Pen was mortified to find she was laughing and there was nothing she seemed to be able to do about it. ‘I’m sorry, I just … don’t know what I … I thought I was … I—’ She managed to fight her breath back under control. ‘I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?’
    Beth shook, laughing silently herself. ‘
Yeah, a little bit. It
’
s okay, Pen
.’
    Behind her, Pen heard stone grinding against stone as the Pavement Priests moved. ‘This doesn’t leave the room,’ Petris was saying. ‘If it gets out we’ll have fifty per cent desertion by sun-up and we’ll lose the rest before Monday.’
    ‘Gutterglass’ – this was Ezekiel’s haughty drawl – ‘does your expertise with chemicals run to a memory solution?’
    ‘A crude one,’ Glas replied, in a tone that suggested she was making a show of modestly inspecting her nails. ‘I’m not Johnny Naphtha, but I can manage a little amnesia if pressed.’
    ‘Consider yourself pressed,’ Ezekiel said. ‘Best prepare several doses, just in case. If word gets out, it would be nice to have at least a chance of containing it.’
    ‘Who do you think’s going to tell?’ Paul Bradley asked.
    ‘I