Read Online The Pack by Tom Pow - Free Book Online Page A

boys, if you only knew the weight of responsibility…” Red Dog buried his head in his arms. In the silence they heard his terrible sobs. “Has to be someone … Oh, boo-hoo, has to be … Oh, boo-hoo, this harsh, cruel world.”
    The children held their breaths and waited.
    Then Red Dog appeared to have the freshest thought. His head resurfaced and, when it did, his delighted eyes were fixed on Bradley.
    â€œUnless…”
    â€œYes! Yes! Yes!” the hall broke out in a clamour of approval.
    â€œDog Boy! Dog Boy! Dog Boy!”
    â€œOh, we’ll see. You see, Dog Boy, that other one, they wouldn’t want him at all, sorry scrap of a thing that he is.”
    â€œVictor,” Bradley said. “Where is he?”
    â€œAh, Vic-tor, Vic-tor. Victor wasn’t for telling us his name either, you know. So thank you for that. Poor Victor, he was terribly upset. Would you like to see him, Dog Boy? Come then.”
    The weasel tugged at the neck of Bradley’s jersey and he got stiffly to his feet. With children gripping his arms, he followed Red Dog through the door to the right of his throne and into a large square room.
    This room was intact, a dim light spilling down from a broken chandelier, clumps of candles at each corner, and in two of the corners, two round cages, one ten feet across, the other considerably smaller. It was to the smaller cage that Bradley was led.
    â€œSssh,” Red Dog whispered, very showily rising onto tiptoe.
    There was a bundle of rags on one side of the cage. Red Dog signalled to one of the children, who stood by with a cane. The child poked the cane through the bars and thrust it deep into the rag pile.
    The pile erupted.
    And there was Victor, his hands locked round the bars, snapping the cane with his teeth. His face was masked by a blue bruise, which had spread from his swollen nose across his cheekbones. From those markings his eyes glared so wildly, they seemed to be beyond seeing.
    â€œVictor,” said Bradley. “Victor.”
    But Victor carried on growling and snapping, till Red Dog motioned to another two boys, one of whom thrashed at Victor’s hands till he let go of the bars, while the other poked a cane into his stomach, lifting his shirt to show the red weals of a previous beating.
    Howling in pain and anger, Victor retreated to the opposite side of the cage, where he licked his knuckles and curled his lip at his persecutors. Bradley noticed then that he wore a dog collar.
    The children laughed at the sport and Bradley saw an invisible curtain come down in Victor’s eyes.
    â€œVictor. Victor. It’s Bradley.”
    Bradley remembered the Old Woman’s words: “Floris is all that keeps Victor in the human world; the only tenderness he allows in his heart. If he doesn’t find her, he will die as a dog.”
    Seeing Victor’s lack of recognition, the way he had crossed his cage on all fours, the wild yet beaten dog-eyes he turned on the whole company, Bradley feared the Old Woman would be proved right. For how long would Red Dog and his gang of boy soldiers be entertained by a creature, once the spirit had been beaten out of it?
    Red Dog’s verdict was already ominous: “Oh, Victor, you’re not much fun.”
    Bradley looked across at the other cage, trying to see what he could make out there.
    â€œOh, the other cage, the other cage,” said Red Dog. “The other cage, my beauty, is for you.”
    The weasel opened the door and Bradley was thrown in.
    â€œBold Skreech, trusted Skreech, bruised Skreech, you will have the honor of tending to our guests. We’ll see you tomorrow, Dog Boy. Sleep well,” and Red Dog and the company swept out.
    A little later, they brought Hunger in. The weasel unlocked the door and the children slipped Hunger off his pole. He gave some rasping breaths and tried to right himself, but he was hopelessly trussed up now.
    â€œYou’d