The room around Lukas erupted into chaos. Miss Danneel was shouting with a knife clutched in her hand and loud footsteps thundered through the house; but Lukas barely noticed. The man from his dreams was in this very room, and that impossible reality had stalled his brain. He was still staring up at the balcony when out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark figure drop to the ground outside. Lukas inhaled a sharp gasp of horror; certain he had just witnessed a man die. But the figure rolled and sprung on his feet before sprinting off into the distance.
A moment later two burly men in overalls burst through the door; one carrying a shovel and the other a pitchfork.
“What took you so long, he’s getting away!” Danneel furiously pointed her knife at the window. They shifted their gaze from the window, to each other, and back to Danneel with a blank expression. “So hurry up and catch him.” Both men heaved a heavy sigh before shuffling back out the door, leaving a trail of dirt and leaves in their wake.
A heavy silence fell over the room and Lukas swore he could hear the sound of Danneel grinding her teeth.
“Um,” Lukas cleared his throat and Danneel snapped her head around so fast he thought her neck would break. “I-I don’t know, I’ve never-” Lukas caught himself; he couldn’t truthfully say he’d never seen him before. “I have no idea who he is.” Danneel made no comment but she stared at him hard. “Well, if there is nothing else; I’ll be going.” Lukas backed out of the room slowly before dashing for the front door.
Had that really just happened? How is he here and why? And where is he now? Lukas’ mind whirled with confusion, disbelief and not a small amount of excitement. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t realise he had made it all the way back home until he sat down on the edge of his bed.
But what had he doing up at Arckvile Manor? Judging by Miss Danneel’s reaction he was not supposed to be there and before he ran off it looked like he stole a book. Just the thought of it made Lukas’ heart hurt.
“Why did it have to be a thief?”
Lukas had been only four years old when his father first took him on a job; it had actually been his birthday. At the time Lukas didn’t really understand enough to know what was happening. He thought it was some kind of game and every time he managed to squeeze his way into a building his father had been so proud of him.
It wasn’t until a few years later that Lukas began to suspect these games were not how normal families behaved. Every time he tried to ask his father about it, it just made him angry and he would yell worse than when he drank.
Lukas was eight the first time he heard the word thief. He had been walking through the market and had taken a loaf of bread because he was hungry. He’d seen his father do it a hundred times and had thought nothing of it. Unfortunately Lukas wasn’t as light-fingered as his father and the merchant had spotted him almost at once. Screaming thief at the top of his lungs the merchant had chased Lukas down the street. Lukas had managed to escape but the encounter had left him scared and confused. He had returned home in tears but his father had just laughed when he told him what had happened.
By the time Lukas was ten he was starting to have serious doubts about his family’s line of work and arguments with his father were becoming more common. It had all come to a head after they had been working a job that went badly wrong. They had all managed to get away clean but his father was livid. Lukas couldn’t even remember if it had actually been his fault, but he copped all the blame. The crew split up to avoid attention; and he and his father set out for Roads End to hole up with Master Allwood. Lukas never determined what the nature of their relationship was; whether they had once been friends or colleagues; but more likely his father had some sort of dirt on him. Whatever it was, it was enough to convince Allwood to take Lukas on as his apprentice and when he woke up the next morning his father was gone.
There had been a moment, after the shock of being abandoned, a small hope bloomed and Lukas thought this could be a new start, a chance at a normal life. But within the week everyone in town had heard the tale of the little boy thief that Allwood had graciously taken into his home. After that nothing he did could completely remove the stain from his name.
In Lukas’ mind there was nothing worse than a thief. They don’t just steal objects and money; they rob people of their livelihoods, ruin communities and families. Thieves were greedy and selfish, without any sense of honour or respect.
The day’s events and this sudden trip down memory lane had left Lukas mentally and physically exhausted. He flopped down onto his bed and pressed his balled up fists against his eyes.
“What does it all mean?” he asked the universe. “Why is he here and who the hell is he?”
“Funny, I came to ask you that exact same questions,” replied a low, teasing voice.
In an instant Lukas was on his feet, his face slack from surprise and disbelief. Like a vision in a painting the dark haired man casually sat on his windowsill. The sun had just begun to set and cast a golden corona behind him that streaked his hair and set his amber eyes aglow.
A million questions bubbled up Lukas’ throat. But his mouth was incapable of stringing sounds together to make words. Frustrated he squeezed his eyes shut as his brain tried to figure out how to speak again. But all those efforts went out the door when he opened his eyes and looked straight into that amber gaze. Without even making a sound the man had moved across the room and stood mere inches away.
“Wilt.”
“W-what,” Lukas managed to squeak out as he shuffled back in an attempt to reclaim some personal space.
“Wilt,” He repeated. “My name is Wilt.” He said with intent and edged in closer until Lukas was pressed up against the wall. He placed his hands on the wall either side of Lukas, boxing him in. “Now if you would be so kind as to tell me your name, and more importantly how it is that you know me.” There was a slight edge of suspicion to his voice as he spoke.
Lukas tried to look away, to look anywhere else, but he was powerless against that piercing gaze. “I am called Lukas,” he could feel the heat rise in his face as he spoke.
“A fine name that, though not one that I am acquainted. So how have we met?”
Lukas hesitated and managed to look away; he felt foolish explaining that he knew him from a dream. He was trying figure out how to frame it correctly without seeming mad when a hand ran down his cheek and grasped his chin.
“Don’t lie to me.” He commanded as he pulled Lukas’ gaze back to his own. “I will know if you lie.”
“How?” Lukas breathed. Somehow the man managed to be physically imposing despite Lukas having a few inches on him.
“Your eyes,” he answered as he leaned in closer and Lukas believed him. Lukas was certain that in this moment all his emotions read clearly on his face.
“We haven’t met,” Lukas started and Wilt raised an eyebrow in warning. “We haven’t; not properly. I see your face– you appear in my dreams.” Lukas admitted and heat flushed his face in embarrassment.
“You’ve had them too?” Wilt replied and it took Lukas a moment to register what he had just said. In the library, there had been a glimmer, a recognition in his eyes and he had said something, ‘What are you doing here?’
This opened up a whole new realm of inexplicable possibilities, like some fairy tale of cosmic intervention or the will of fate. But before he could start bombarding Wilt with questions or theories, the door down stairs slammed open with a force that shook the walls, followed by the stomp of angry footsteps. Wilt flinched away as soon as the door slammed.
Lukas knew it was Allwood; the footsteps were heavy and uneven as the man struggled with his weight and an afternoon of drinking
“Oh shit, that must be Master Allwood,” Lukas said but when he turned back Wilt was gone. He rushed to look out the window but there was no sight of him. How did he even get up here?
“Boy!” Allwood bellowed as his lumbering footsteps hit the bottom stair. He only called him boy when he was really angry, which was becoming more of the norm these days. Lukas ran though the many reasons that would have caused such anger but there were too many to choose from.
He’d been busy today.
Lukas had just grabbed the handle when the door slammed open jarring his wrist and crashing into the wall. Lukas winced and stifled a yelp of pain as he backed away. Allwood was more angry, or drunker, than Lukas had anticipated, or perhaps both.
“You ungrateful misbegotten brat of a whore,” Allwood loomed large and red faced in the doorway. “I should have known; it was only a matter of time.”
“I’m sorry—” Lukas started to apologise but Allwood’s meaty hand smacked him hard across the face. Caught off guard, the force knocked Lukas to his knees. His ear was ringing and when he pressed his hand to the already growing welt he was surprised, and grateful, to find it wasn’t bleeding.
“I will not let you ruin the good name I have built for myself.”
From downstairs the door opened again followed by a number of footsteps.
“Up here,” called Allwood. “I always knew this day would come. It was inevitable, since the day your father forced you on me.”
Three men pushed through the door and it took Lukas a moment to recognise them through the sting of tears in his eyes.
Out of habit Lukas had initially avoided the sheriff and his sons but once the town had learnt of his family history it was like they were always watching him, waiting for him to slip up.
One summer the elder son, Marko, had tried to pin a string of vegetable thefts on Lukas; going so far as to convince some of the other boys to provide false witness. Everyone had been half convinced until the real perpetrator got caught in the act. It had turned out to be Marko’s younger brother, Artony. The secondary motive for blaming Lukas must have been to protect his brother.
What really angered Lukas in the whole affair was that because Artony was a good boy from a good home everyone just wrote it off as youthful foolishness and the whole thing was forgiven and forgotten, which was vastly different to when they thought Lukas was at fault.
Standing in the doorway Marko had the same amused malice shining in his too small, dull brown eyes; an unflattering family feature shared by all three men.
“What do they want?” The blow to Lukas’ head had shaken him up and he couldn’t figure out what was going on.
Allwood ignored him and turned to the three men. “I made sure he didn’t do a runner, had to rough the brat up a bit.”
“Good work Allwood, mutts like this always try to slip away once they are finally found out,” Sheriff Eelroy clapped his hand on Allwood’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself for this, you did all you could. Hell you did more than he deserved. Some’m just born bad.”
Lukas had seen this dance before, people saying the right and correct things, but if you look closely at their eyes you could see the truth. Allwood was acting contrite but his eyes were gloating. Lukas couldn’t figure out what was going on but whatever it was, it was not good. Maybe if he stayed small and quiet they would forget about him.
It didn’t work.
“Lukas Quince, you are to come with us immediately, if you resist we will use force.” The sheriff kept his voice cool and professional but in those beady little eyes Lukas saw something like satisfaction or vindication.
“I don’t- what’s going on?”
“You’re being arrested, that’s what’s going on,” Marko butt in, twisting the grip of his cudgel in his hands. His father held up a hand to silence him.
“We just have a few questions in regards to the break-in and robbery up at Arckvile this afternoon.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” a slight lie, the thief had been in this room only moments ago and Lukas even knew his name now. But he couldn’t have explained how he knew these things. “I was there when it happened but that’s it. I don’t know anything else.”
“Even so, you will come with us now,” Eelroy motioned to his son and Marko happily stepped forward and pulled Lukas to his feet. Large rough fingers dug into Lukas’ flesh as Marko led him to the door. Lukas tried not to give him the satisfaction of showing his pain but his head was still ringing and suddenly standing had caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him. He stumbled slightly in an attempt to steady himself.
“Stop resisting,” Marko almost purred in delight before yanking and twisting Lukas’ arm up behind his back and almost out of its socket.
Lukas let out a desperate cry of pain, but no one made an effort to stop his rough handling. He even thought he saw a small smile on Allwood’s face. In that instant he was that young boy again, wrongly accused, alone and afraid. But this time it wasn’t over some missing vegetables.
Lack of Coffee 