For my thanks, these include all the people who have suddenly been adding IIYB to their favourite list. Welcome on board friends :)

PinkandGreenWhiteRedBlack07; silveringfinch; .11; XwalkinthesunX; morance; BlackAngel-Cindy; cragenarticjags-pandas; icyeyeddragon; bookworm125

Hey you lot :) Good holidays so far? Looking forward to Hogmanay? Which is Scottish for New Year btw (just thought I’d throw that in there).

Well, due to the results of my profile poll (which is still going... hinthint) I have written a short story about Jace. It’s only a oneshot for now, but if you like it, I can’t see why I can’t add more onto it.

Dubhán is pronounced Duv-an

Cáel is pronounced Kay-el

.disclaimer.

Enjoy!

Dresden Lace

Toys

Jace had always dreamed about being just like his big brother.

Hayden was in every way cool. People did everything he said, listened to him, he didn’t go to school, he didn’t have to do anything. Their mother, Elizabeth, let him do whatever he wanted. Hayden had no rules to live by. He had the perfect life.

Or so it seemed.

One day, when Jace was just ten years old, Hayden surprisingly arrived out of the blue to pick him up from school. Jace, foolish with age, thought it a brilliant and happy event, and didn’t think twice of it. The two of them took a back route home, keeping to the shadows – which Jace had fun with, running in and out of them with a wicked laugh – and just talked. Hayden watched his little brother with amusement in his eyes, pushing him gently, joking around. Jace was in such high spirits: it was a Friday (no more school!), his brother was here, they were having a laugh, and it was his eleventh birthday soon.

In fact, he was so engrossed by his own happiness, he didn’t notice the group of youths slink out of an alleyway and start to hassle Hayden. It was only when Hayden gave a shout that Jace whipped around and saw them, attacking his brother ruthlessly. Jace was young and didn’t entirely understand, but it was easy to see that something was wrong, that his brother was in pain.

Tentively, Jace stepped forward, but Hayden locked eyes with his younger brother, and shouted – no, screamed one thing, and one thing only.

Run!

Faster than he had ever ran in his life, the scrappy blonde-haired boy turned around and legged it down the street, hearing the drunken laughter of the youths who were following him now. All the time, a heavy guilt rotted in his stomach, making him itch to turn around and help his brother. But just as the overwhelming urge took a firm hold on him, a strong pair of hands grabbed at him from behind, yanking him into a discreet little road. A clammy hand covered his mouth as the youths sauntered past, unsteady with alcohol and triumph.

When they had gone, Jace tore himself from the person’s grasp and turned to see Dubhán: all his life, Hayden had told Jace that the one person he could trust was auburn-haired Dubhán, brother of Cáel – Jace’s best friend.

“Come,” was all the tall man said, stealing him away from the scene. They walked home casually, heads down, not wanting to attract attention. Night was now falling – too soon, Jace thought – and the stars watched over them as they made their way home.

Elizabeth ran from the house to embrace her son – her only son – fiercely, big tears dripping from her face. Jace hadn’t understood before, but now he was certain of his brother’s fate.

That night, Jace found out who his brother really was.

That night, Jace decided he didn’t want to be like his brother anymore.

Hayden had been a leader of a large gang called The Scorpions, one that was known across the country. Originally, it had been accepted into the world of gangs, but then jealousy arose, feuds over power and greed had torn down the co-existent peace. Hayden had been trying to sort out the occurring war, but his enemies had taken him down before he could.

Jace found out that people listened to him because he was their leader, he was in charge of and responsible for hundreds of teenagers and adults alike; and it was because of this power that he had been made a prime target by hundreds of teenagers and adults alike. He was a walking bomb: kill him and kill the gang. Hayden didn’t go to school because he couldn’t for fear of risking the lives of all those who came in contact with him. Elizabeth didn’t tell him to do anything because she knew what danger her son was in, and what a danger he was to her and Jace. She accepted his long times away from home in favour of Jace not being in the blood-lusting limelight. And, Jace found out, Hayden had so many rules to live by. Everything he did had a consequence, and he had to plan every move he and hundreds of others made.

He did not have the perfect life.

On the same night of Hayden’s murder, Jace was ripped away from his home and his life. Dubhán took him and Cáel out of the city, out of the country, dumping them in the lowly parts of London, away from the brute force of The Scorpions’ rivals.

At first there were many gangsters with them, but over the next few years, they got less and less, losing hope and giving up. Dubhán himself had to return after only a few months to try and deal with the concussion left behind from Hayden’s murder. And soon, too soon, the two boys were left alone in the heart of dead London.

They were picked up by the Brethren, a local gang, not too big, due to their obvious experience of the lifestyle. They were taught how to use guns, knives, how to protect themselves and others. They were sent out on missions; to collect things, to watch over people, to gain information... As time went on, these jobs got more and more... difficult... violent. All in the day’s work of a gang member.

The current leader of Brethren, known only as B, looked down on her two new members with pride and hope. They had fire in their bellies, something few lacked. They had morals, strategy and a loyal bond that was hard to gain in tough times and places such as these.

The two quickly leapt up the ranks, ending up as B’s two right hand men – it was based on experience rather than age. Of course, there were others, but B had her eyes on these two, foretelling that they would grow to be something great.

Jace was fourteen when Cáel was practicing with his new gun when a young girl ran out across the road; Jace swore loudly, pushing the older boy’s arm out of the way before he hit the small brunette.

“Watch it!” he yelled out angrily, regarding the child as she cowered against a wall with wide, scared eyes. Cael went forward to see if he could help - she looked so scared! – but another girl, not too much older, suddenly appeared, running up to the brunette.

“Vesper!” she scolded. “You nearly got shot!” There were tears in her voice, but the two boys couldn’t see her face as the one called Vesper launched herself at her, hugged her desperately.

“It’s okay,” the girl cooed, though her voice was shaky. “He’s gone.” Then she turned around and peeked at her small audience, biting her lip nervously. It was her red hair and mossy eyes that Jace noticed first, then the dirt smeared across her gaunt cheeks and the tear marks that were still wet.

“Sorry,” she whispered, then took hold of Vesper’s hand and hurried her out of sight. Soon they were both gone, the brief meeting nothing of importance. Jace told himself he was glad of the swiftness they left: the unnamed girl’s eyes were piercing, and made him uncomfortably concerned.

Which was stupid.

For the rest of the week, they spent time down by some rows of houses, him and Cáel with a few others clearing it out to make a new base for the gang. They walked up and down the alleyways; it was still. Silent. Empty.

Until they walked through a small street of filthy flats, devoid of life except for one. Flat number 83: screaming came from the walls, but nothing moved outside of the dismal place. There was a bitter laughter behind the screams, and then... nothing. As if it had never happened.

“What was that?” Cáel asked quietly, his fingers straying to the gun at his hip, his body twisted slightly to move closer to Jace out of habit, his gaze flitting around the street cautiously.

“I don’t know... I don’t think this is a very family-friendly place,” Jace replied softly. They hesitated briefly before carrying on, their nerves now slightly higher than before. The others with them had gone perusing down other streets, and the two boys were on their own. Jace lead them past the apartment that had echoed out some inner turmoil and into the lowly passageway behind it. There was a scuffling, a hiccupped sob.

“Hello?” Cáel called, now drawing out his gun, exchanging looks with the younger Jace, both of them moving to take up the entire pathway to halt escape.

The scuffling stopped as if a breath was being held, and then a heavy sigh. Jace frowned and moved past Cáel, lowering his gun automatically, his senses no longer detecting any danger. He crept around the corner, his feet careful against the ground, not wanting to disturb anything.

Around the corner, tucked away in a little concrete alcove was the redhead girl, curled up tight, her head against her knees, her back against the wall. She was shaking, and muttering to herself in disdain. They couldn’t see her face, and Jace found himself searching for her mossy greyish-green eyes that he could still vividly remember.

“Hello,” he murmured, sliding down to his knees. Cáel watched from behind in silence, his gun ever at the ready.

“Hi,” the girl whispered in reply, then laughed bitterly at herself. The sound struck him, chilled him. It sounded so... old. Dead.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. The girl scoffed, again sounding much older than she possibly could be, before lifting her head; though, she did not look him in the eye, instead tilting her head to glare furiously to one side.

“Quite.” The tone was clipped, sharp, inwardly spiteful.

“Liar.” It was compulsion really, he hadn’t meant to accuse her so matter-of-factly, and she wasn’t the only one who was surprised. She watched him for a moment, her head cocked to one side, then a dim little smile struck at the corner of her mouth.

“Who are you?” Jace smiled a little too, noting easily the sudden youth in her voice now that she had apparently stopped thinking about whatever had been on her mind before.

“I’m Jace,” he introduced. “And that’s Cáel. We’re just checking this place out. Do you live here?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “The house behind us.” Jace looked round at Cáel who had that look on his face he got whenever he felt something wasn’t right.

“We heard... someone scream,” Jace told her carefully; he frowned in surprise when the girl laughed, the same bitter, twisted sound as before.

“My stepdad is angry and he’s taking it out on mum.” Again she laughed, shaking her head at her own words, her whole body racked with the dark coughs of black humour. Slowly, sickeningly, the laughter turned into sobs. She sounded so young right then, so vulnerable as she trembled from sorrow and fear.

Jace swallowed thickly, then slid in next to the girl, and hesitantly put his arm around her waist. She jumped at the sudden contact, but then leant against him. As the girl huddled there, weeping, Jace looked up at Cáel who was watching the two with an unfathomable expression on his hardened face.

“What’s your name?” Jace whispered softly to the girl, trying to keep his voice soothing and calm. She hiccupped before answering timidly.

“Ryanne.”

“Ryanne. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Neither of us are.” Cáel nodded, then sat down, facing the two stoically, keeping a look out for any approaching enemies or friends.

“W-why?” Ryanne asked, and Jace shrugged, he too confused by his sudden attraction to the idea of comforting the girl.

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling that if I leave you now, I will pay for it later.” Jace glanced up at the sky which was darkening, the shadow of rain dropping to the earth nearing quickly. Cáel nodded and stood, watching as Jace picked up Ryanne, holding the child close to his body.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he told her. She smiled and nodded, the movement shy and nervous. Jace adjusted her in his arms, noticing only then the small poppy bruise on her temple against the damp paleness of her porcelain skin.

“I’ve got you now.”

Blood, blood everywhere, dripping from the walls, dancing like silk against the windows. There was no light, everything, everyone plunged into darkness like the very nature of humankind.

“Jace!”

At the scream of his name he pushed his way through the frenzied creature that was yelling and running in its panic. Limbs and bodies became a wall that he broke through, not caring about anything or anyone, just the desperate need to get to Ryanne and Vesper.

“Oh God, Jace!” He took the stairs two at a time, his hands like claws against the walls as he pulled himself up, tearing through the hallway like it was the final sprint to salvation. Not even pausing to think, he kicked open the door, the wood smacking against the concrete like the thumping of his heart.

He could barely breathe, violent tremors taking over his body as he looked around, whipping his gaze left and right.

There!

Ryanne was on the floor, soaked through from the night rain, her red hair long and wild. In her arms lay Vesper, sprawled painfully across the hard floor. Jace could hear her shrieks of breath from where he stood. Blood was escaping her with each dying pulse. Ryanne’s hands were against the knife wound, her fingers slipping against the hot crimson.

Lightning smashed against the window, lighting up the shadowed room like a candle wick, the thunder roaring in as Vesper screamed, her voice breaking from the pain.

Jace fell to his knees before the two girls, his two sisters, his hands shaking as he tried to think through what needed to be done. His hands pressed suddenly against Vesper’s abdomen before he could even stop himself, his basic instinct the only thing that was working through the sheer panic.

“Jace, Jace!” Ryanne cried, sobbing through her fear. “Jace, I don’t think they left, I don’t think...!” She could finish, instead fell weeping against the thirteen-year-old in her arms.

She wasn’t breathing, she wasn’t breathing! Jace put his mouth against Vesper’s and started to breathe, pushing air into her weak lungs. He felt her cough up blood into his mouth as he pulled away, and he let it fall from his lips, not caring, not seeing. His hands beat against her struggling heart, forcing out each pulse manually. Ryanne grabbed at pillows and blankets around them, anything to stop the bleeding so Jace wasn’t just making her bleed even more.

“Come on, baby, come on!” he spat out, not feeling Vesper’s blood coat his face and chest, the crimson suddenly everywhere. There was so much of it, too much... Jace couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt such an innocent little girl.

“Jace!” Ryanne was looking at something behind him with pure horror, her mossy eyes wide with death. Before Jace could even turn around, something hard struck him across the head, making him gasp out from the shock and pain. His body covered Vesper’s protectively, trying to hide her already broken form from view.

Another blow snatched at his skull and he was thrown sideways from the power behind it. Blood, his own now, trickled from the gash behind his ear, warm and sticky against his neck.

Just as another strike came towards him, he twisted around, his back against Vesper’s lifeless legs; he threw up his hands and caught the weapon, the force biting at his grip. The attacker gruffed with distaste and yanked back the weapon with an angry grunt of exertion. Jace, exhausted of all strength, felt his bloodied fingers slip from the metal and he groaned. Not having the will to protect himself against the next blow, he braced himself for the pain, tilting his body to shield Vesper.

But the strike didn’t come, and Jace glanced up to see someone standing in the doorframe of the room; whoever it was had caught the weapon before it could be brought down, and now the two were fighting for control over it. The original attacker wasn’t alone, and his three comrades turned against the newcomer, bringing out weapons of their own.

Another limb of lightning lit up the room, and Jace saw it was Cáel standing in the doorway, struggling with the four opponents. Forcing himself to stand, Jace leapt at the nearest person to him, throwing his arms around their neck and pulling. It was a man around his late twenties, and he dropped the gun he held in his hand and then cursed when he did; his fingers scratched against Jace’s arms, his nails digging in ruthlessly to try and get him off. But Jace held on tight, using his weight to pull back the man and unbalance him. He was gasping and choking for air, and his hands came off Jace’s arms to wave about in the air fruitlessly. His efforts were slowly dying and with one final tug, the man went limp and Jace dropped him to the floor.

Cáel tackled the main attacker – this man was at least in his early thirties – to push him back into the shelves, the wood cutting into his back. The man groaned and ducked out of the way, letting his next comrade fall into line with Cáel. Jace was with the third lackey, using his fists to hold off the man, though his offence wasn’t very strong and he was only keeping him at bay.

The main attacker fell against Vesper, pushing her out of the way with a careless glee, then knotted his hand in the redhead’s hair, pulling her head down to the floor. His other fist embedded into her stomach and Ryanne cried out in pain, trying to kick him off. He just laughed, and straddled her to hold her down, kicking out at the whimpering Vesper first.

Jace saw the man lay fist after fist into Ryanne’s body and growled, conjuring up one quick spurt of speed to dodge his own attacker and elbow him in the face, knee him between the legs, and slam his head into the wall. The man collapsed to the floor unconscious, but Jace was already heading towards Ryanne, a furious bloodlust in his eyes.

He threw his hands around the man’s neck, getting his shoulder under him to shove him off, trying to get his heavy weight off Ryanne whose eyes were straying to the back of her head.

“You fucking bastard!” he spat, the blood from his mouth – he no longer knew whose blood was whose anymore – spotting on the man’s forehead.

“You think you can hurt my family and get away with it?” he roared, throwing his fist into the man’s face with brutal force, feeling the bone crunch with a satisfying simplicity. His own pain only urged him forward.

“What right do you have?” Again and again he punched the older man, his pent up anger flowing through his veins with the thickness of adrenaline, sureness of blood.

“Jace!” Ryanne cried, once again calling out a short warning with a broken voice. Jace turned around to see the remaining man about to strike him down with a Harpy knife, but there was nothing he could do: he refused to let go of the bastard in his grasp.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Cáel leapt at the man with a passionate wrath, pulling him away from Jace and the others, ready to knock him out cold... but the man had seen him coming in the reflection on his blade and turned just as Cáel came towards him. He slashed out, the knife flying straight and true. Cáel let out a yell of pain as he fell to the floor, holding his face.

The man, happy with his actions, turned back to Jace – Cáel grinned evilly at this reckless lack of judgment, and thrust his feet out, knocking attacker’s legs out from under him. He tumbled harshly to the floor, hitting his head against the wall as he went, knocking himself out and sub-sequentially stabbing himself in the thigh too.

As the last man fell unconscious, Jace scrambled over to Vesper who was starting to convulse, going into shock.

“No! Come on!” Jace yelled, once again beating her heart for her, making her breath, not letting her die. Cáel wiped hurriedly at the blood that was pouring from his face so he could move over to Ryanne, helping her sit up.

Jace and Cáel fled to their feet as people ran into the room, but then fell back down when they recognised the health members of the Brethren, those with expertise in keeping wounded members alive. Vesper and Ryanne were taken off their hands – much to their distaste – and then they too were lead from the room while the others dealt with the fallen rivals.

Jace woke to a bright light, and his hand rose to block it from view. He felt uncomfortably clean and immediately guessed he was in the local hospital. The bed felt familiar, and he relaxed his guards, knowing the place: the local police had the hospital keep a whole section of it sealed off for Brethren members only – for many years B and the Brethren had kept the families of doctors and police safe and free from restless and destructive rival gangs. It was a small payment in return.

He jumped at the touch of lips on his cheek, and he opened his eyes to see Ryanne standing next to him, her bruised and cut face happy that he was awake.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, sitting himself up so Ryanne could lie next to him, like she always did. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now. Vesper’s in the next ward – she was awake this morning, and the doctor says she’s going be okay in a few days.”

“That’s great. And Cáel?”

“I’m here, mate.” Jace looked up to see his best friend and brother leaning against the wall casually, a smirk on his tattered face.

“Oh, mate,” Jace said sympathetically, regarding the large slash that was across Cáel’s handsome face. The boy shrugged, running a finger down the scar.

“Personally, I think it’s kinda cool,” Ryanne added in, her natural instinct to make people feel better kicking in already. “Scarface,” she giggled, cuddling up against Jace naturally, leaning on his chest. Cáel raised an eyebrow at Ryanne, then grinned, his eyes warm and loving at his baby sister and brother in arms.

“Oi, Scarface, go get me my leather jacket,” Jace mock commanded, and Cáel gave him the finger in return.

“Hey, that’s Mr Scar to you,” he replied. “And you can go fuck yourself. But before you do, there is something I need to tell ya, mate.” Jace frowned at the sudden seriousness in Cáel’s tone.

“B was killed last night... as well as the Vice: Bullett. Since Bullett’s brother is too young to take up charge, the crown, so to speak, has been passed down to you, next in command.”

“What... what’re you saying?”

“You’re the new gang leader of Brethren,” Ryanne whispered, her breath warm against Jace’s neck.

“But... I don’t want to be like my brother...” Cáel shrugged, slightly sorrowful, for he was now second in command, and he too hadn’t planned to end up like his brother – who was probably dead too by now. This wasn’t how things were meant to be.

“But look, mate, we’ll talk about it later. For now, I’m going to get something to eat. You want anything baby girl?”

“No thanks, Scar,” she teased.

“Oh, shush you. Jace?”

“Nah, mate. Thanks anyway.”

Jace leant his head against the pillow, looking out of the window into the afternoon sky. Ryanne kissed his cheek again, watching as he smiled then gazed down at her adoringly.

“Oh, Ryanne,” he sighed. “What next?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking we could go up to Ireland... my mum still has some property up there... we can crash there for a few days. Y’know, to get away from it all.” Jace frowned ponderingly, the idea sounding quite inviting.

“Ireland?”

“Yeah. You never know, we might meet someone up there.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“I don’t know! Just someone. Anyone. Even if only for a day.”

“Yeah, only for a day. I don’t think we can fit anyone else into our tightly knitted lifestyle of fame and fortune.”

“Hmm. Maybe there’s room for one more.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

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