"Ow! Fuck…" Lenny woke up, withdrawing his hand, instinctively cradling it close to his chest. A sharp pain ran through him. It took a moment for him to realise he'd been bitten. Not seriously, no, just a nibble really, but still, the skin had been torn and a small flap of skin hung loose, blood dribbling down his palm.
The offending rat stared up at him, its black eyes glistening in the darkness.
He stared back at the creature, then sucked the blood from the wound and spat it out. The thick globule of red spit flew through the air, past the creature's face, missing by a hair's breadth. Clearly not getting the message, Lenny went to kick it. The vermin hissed at him then scurried off in the opposite direction.
He threw back the bundle of blankets and sat up. A single large crack in the boarded-up window at the back of the room let through just enough light to reveal it was now morning. He hadn't slept well. It was a cold night, and the noise of drunkards leaving the casino in the early hours kept waking him.
He studied the room: it was quite large really, or it would be, if not for the eleven kids who slept there with all their earthly possessions: clothes and trinkets, blankets and mementos of their former lives. Of course, the Madonnas always preached austerity. "The lord wouldn't give us tests we couldn't handle." Besides: "Such earthly possessions lead to avarice." Lenny scoffed. He couldn't help but stare at their pretty blue tunics, the golden stitching on the lapels, the elaborate weave of their silken veils hiding ugly faces beneath. Well, probably. He didn't know for sure. It was part of their whole spiel.
The room's only entrance, a door off the back of the altar, opened up and Mother Hope walked through. She said softly, "Good morning children."
Yes, it was Mother Hope that Lenny hated the most. He covered his ears.
Clearing her throat, she lifted the familiar staff and banged it against the ground a couple of times, activating its spirit core. It let out the shrieking of a scavenger-class beast… some kind of bird perhaps. The other kids sat up quickly and Lenny could swear he sensed a smile beneath the veil, or maybe just imagined it.
"We're awake," said Rose. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made a wide, silent yawn. Lenny stared at her large brown eyes and sallow face. She was one of the eldest there. For this reason, she'd assumed the role of a big sister, or young aunt perhaps. She comforted the new arrivals, shared food, changed the young if they had accidents. In many ways, her situation was quite different from his own. She had integrated with, essential even, to the group.
"Len?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"What are you staring at?"
Lenny looked away, then lifted his palm, revealing the bite mark.
"What happened?" she asked. Her voice was soothing and gentle.
"Nothing. Not really. It was a bloody rat."
"You want me to take a look?"
Lenny scoffed, wiping his bloody palm down his t-shirt and stood up. The others in the room were nearly ready, having thrown on rough jumpers and shoes.
"Service will begin in one hour," said the Madonna. "Try and look respectable. Marcus, you're on the collection plate. Everyone else, begin your warm-ups."
Lenny began to do his scales.
"Not you," said the Madonna. "Sweep the nave and wipe down the benches."
He had wondered when this would happen. The truth was, he was getting a little too old to be a choir boy. His voice had broken, a bit late really, and while most of the kids who came through were adopted within a few months, maybe a year, Lenny had been here for more than three.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Don't dawdle!" she cried.
Lenny rushed off to a storage cupboard to get some cleaning supplies. As he walked through into the main foyer, he spotted another blue-tuniced tyrant. She was talking with a young man, at least ten years her younger. He thought they stood very close and wondered if the gentleman had seen beneath her veil. Mother Charity giggled, then spotted Lenny. He put his head down.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be warming up with the others?"
"Mother Hope asked me to clean instead."
"Oh, good. When you're done here, you can pick the litter from the street. And there's some puke. You'll need a mop."
"But service starts in an hour?"
"I don't think you're missing anything important… it's Elijah and the captains again. Just join the back when you're done, why don't you?"
Elijah had become an important figure in these times. The first prophet to call down fireballs to burn those who tried to subjugate him. It was funny how, no matter what was going on in society, some small episode of the Bible was able to take on extra meaning. Although, I guess it was quite a large book.
She hadn't intended it that way, but this was somewhat of a blessing for Lenny. The truth was, most of the orphans there were not believers. Very few people were, not since the first portals opened. And yet, the Sanctuary was one of the few places where people could come when they'd lost their homes, their families. Besides, their healing hands were cheaper than hospitals.
He sprayed the sterile solution over the green plastic bench with a sort of coarse, textured pattern. Perhaps it was to stop sleeping patrons from falling off it. The natural wood ones had long since been stolen and these makeshift ones had taken their place. "Easier to clean at least," he thought. He moved methodically through the aisles with a mindless perfunctory rhythm.
Working his way to the back, he spotted a newspaper tucked in a corner of the bench, Firm Grasp. On the front, a picture of a loan man on a rooftop looking off thoughtfully, flaming beasts falling from the sky behind him. In large print, the headline read: "SALAMANDERS' BLAZE OF GLORY." He started to read…
They had responded in six minutes. In that time, there were just over thirty casualties. That wasn't so bad. In truth, it was possible that one or two were caused by the Salamanders themselves, that being one of the downsides of their powerful ability, but the newspaper would never mention that. They were one of the four pillars after all, an integral part of the societal structure, one demanding respect. And honestly, if they hadn't turned up, the situation could have been much worse. Yet there was some truth in the old saying: when the Salamanders arrived people cheered, landlords cried.
"Oi!"
Lenny turned.
"What are you doing?" Mother Charity asked. "Service starts in five. Get that mop!"