by Talis Jones
“I…I’m not sure? They always told me but now I– I need to think.”
“That’s okay,” he assures me. “You staying at the orphanage? You said you were a refugee.”
I nod.
“The officer was right, people don’t usually come here alone, especially not kids.”
His eyes are inquisitive but not prying and I don’t know how to answer. It’s too much. Too many words. And it’s all a secret I can’t ever share. “There were twelve and now there’s me,” I confess.
Castor rubs my back and looks up at Yosef where he hangs back. “Yosef,” he says softly and somehow it contains sentences and paragraphs and pleas.
Yosef’s cold gaze is fixated on my huddled form and he comes over to crouch beside Castor. “You have a story, Maddy,” he warns, “and I want to know it. In exchange you can stay with us. Bed, food, privacy, and safety is what I’m offering. Work can be a later discussion.”
I take in these two people and as my breathing settles, as my head clears, I feel what I could swear is a sigh in my heart. Without panic to cloud my mind I sense a trust from these two. It could be a stupid risk and yet I feel the decision as clear as a bell. But… “Is the room or wherever I’ll sleep white?”
Yosef looks surprised at the question. “No, actually it’s full of stained-glass windows so when the sun shines it lights up like a damn rainbow.”
Home.
“Yes,” I smile. “Yes, please.” My hope dims in place of that familiar cloak of desperation and fear. “But if I tell you my story you can’t tell anyone. No one can know. No one. They can’t ever find me. I won’t go back.”
“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” Castor promises adamantly.
Yosef smiles. “Secrets are my currency and they become worthless the more heads that hold them.” He takes me in and his eyes fix upon my chin. “That tattoo…”
A flash of fear presses out another tear. “Part of my story,” I say.
He nods. “Is it something you want to keep?”
My eyes widen. I could have it removed? I never knew such a thing was a possibility. “No.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he vows. “Welcome to the Rolling Bones.”
Fifteen
NYX
Adjusting my uniform in the reflection of the small mirror above the hand washing station my eyes and ears take in the bustle around us. Always alert. Always. So many ways to end lives in a kitchen… My skin itches at the cheap fabrics, too used to silks when I can find them and high-end fabrications when I can’t, and it threatens to distract my focus. Even during the collapse my mother kept me in the finer things when possible, God rest her soul.
Castor’s grunt of frustration has me snapping my attention to the problem and I watch as a button on the cheap waiter attire hangs limp.
“Hold still,” I command, brushing his hands aside before the button falls all the way off. He takes over surveillance while we shove into the servants hall and I quickly scan my thumb to pop open a locker and remove a needle and thread from a small case in our bag of gear. Learning how to sew was a necessary skill when the factories fell and borders rose up. It’s also handy if you require special pockets and designs to hold one’s work toys. “Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you have to show off to everything down to a defenseless little button,” I mutter.
Castor snorts in amusement but says nothing. He’s not the sort to rise to the bait. I, however, can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. Silence and patience is my expertise when working alone hence why I work alone. Stick me with somebody and it’s like all of those words I’ve swallowed come vomiting up.
“Do you think Maddy knows about the change of plans?” I shouldn’t even ask it, give it voice, but my traitorous thoughts took control of my mouth and out it came. “If not, she’s going to be hurt and I’ll bet Yosef hasn’t thought that through.”
“I think he’s thought it through enough to decide not to tell her,” Castor disagrees grimly. “We all feed on money, on the win, while Maddy just wants love. But you know Yosef. He can’t, and won’t, allow a job this big land with a rival and risk his little corner on the criminal market. Of course he can’t tell Maddy that as an excuse because he also can’t risk losing her.”
I snap the end of the thread and toss the tiny tools back into the bag. “Don’t fidget with the buttons,” I command.
As Castor shoves the bag into a staff locker I sigh, “She’s ruined all of us. Making us choose and placing an awful lot of faith in our choosing her over the luxuries we live for.” Briefly my mind flickers to the collection of old money I admire often, all made from back when they used to actually mint the stuff. Each piece gifted to me by Maddy whether for a holiday, birthday, or just because she was thinking of me because she somehow knew that it would be the perfect gift to make me smile despite my never expressing any interest in the stuff. Money does, however, sing a special tune in my blood…perceptive little kid.
Castor shakes his head “I don’t think she does it on purpose. She isn’t asking us to choose, we’re just coming to realize we might have to.”
“I know,” I snap. “And that just makes it worse. Who knew a little pipsqueak with freckles could put guilt in a killer’s heart? We’re going to be poor and pathetic if we don’t get rid of her soon.” There used to be not a single soul I wouldn’t consider targeting for the right price and now I have five that are off-limits. Maybe for double the price... Maybe. It’s the uncertainty that has me scowling every time my thoughts dare to wonder.
“Focus, you two,” Arcas warns quietly in my ear and I assume Castor’s as well. I hate group projects and these nosy little mics.
We return to the sink and take turns washing our hands thoroughly. Castor seems a bit lost in thought as he scrubs the soap between his fingers.
“Or we could be stronger than ever,” he contemplates to himself.
I can’t help the derisive snort that slashes out of me. “You read too much.”
He shrugs. “Either way, I’ve a feeling we’re coming to a fork in the path and the one option no longer left to us is to go back.”
“Maybe,” I murmur. With a sudden shake of my head I glare at him. “Fuck you’re dramatic.”
“And you’re downright chatty tonight,” he returns. “Nervous about it too?”
“I don’t get nervous,” I hiss.
“You didn’t get nervous,” he smiles as he walks past me towards the lady barking orders and looking one harsh word away from falling apart under the stress. “But we’re a family now and family matters.”
I stab him in his broad back with daggers from my eyes, hostility flaring out until it flags, sputters, and dies. He’s right. Maddy asks for little and gives everything and somehow it’s turned a crew of contract criminals into a family considering right and wrong. Castor’s words caress my heart once more and I know that for better or for worse he’s right. Fuck.
MADDY
Nyx returned with a pair of dainty gold heels that look inspired by old Hollywood and hug my feet perfectly with a surprising amount of comfort. Arcas handed me a small plastic compact holding my digi-mask that I’ll have to figure out how to put on without Charlie noticing. Even if he does know I live here we’re still taking precautions to show the cameras one set of faces leaving as residents and another set arriving at the party.
I stand in a corner watching everyone finish their prep while my hands sweat around the plastic in my fist and I finally cram the compact into a pocket feeling thankful for the elegant draping of the dress to hide the bulk. It’d be easier to use a purse but purses get searched, dropped, or snatched.
My gut twists and I yell at it to quit bothering me. We’ve done countless jobs, though perhaps none quite so risky, yet I really like Charlie and knowing that this could hurt him doesn’t sit right with me and it’s damn annoying.
KJ disappeared like a ghost as he usually does then Nyx and Castor left as soon as she returned with the shoes to take thei
r places as wait staff while Frocket will go with Yosef and Arcas after I leave. Can’t have everyone leaving all at once…
“Time to go, Maddy,” Yosef instructs and I nod wordlessly. I barely know Charlie even if it does somehow feel like I’ve known him for ages. If I could add him to our little family I would, but I can’t and I have to choose between him and family. I know my answer, I don’t even have to think twice, yet it haunts me with every step the silly notion that maybe I can think of a way to keep both.
The cold bites into my cheeks and I turn my face down away from the icy winter wind. My coat doesn’t match my dress at all but that’s the point as it disguises me neck to ankles. I’m glad for its warmth and as I bury my hands in the pockets I feel my music box there. Carefully so as not to ruin my once in a lifetime fancy hair, I slide on the headphones and beg the music to play. “Ve en paz…” A soothing song in a language I don’t know caresses my ears like a lullaby and as I surrender to the music over my churning thoughts I slowly find a small sense of peace and grasp onto it with both hands.
Sliding into a raucous pub, I politely shove my way through to the bar and order a drink. Once I’ve chatted up the bartender and finished half my drink, I nod and move to a table that finally opens up. Sitting only long enough for the bartender to confirm my position I drain the glass then head towards the restroom while he isn’t looking.
Shutting myself into a stall I remove the compact from my pocket and click it open. Carefully I remove the fake powder puff and with the small mirror as my guide I press my middle finger onto one of the revealed dots of my digi-mask then tap it gently to my forehead. I finish applying the dots quickly and knowing my ornate ear cuff hiding my mic was switched on the moment I left the house I say under my breath, “There, all done.”
“Well done, dear,” a voice slurs from the stall beside me and I fight down a laugh.
“Activated,” Arcas’ voice replies in my ear.
Giving the toilet an empty flush I wash my hands for appearance’s sake, leave my coat hanging on a hook, then shoulder my way out the back door into the cold. I clutch my new shawl tight around my arms wishing I could’ve kept the coat.
Soon enough I round the last corner and approach the destroyed bakery only to stop at the sight waiting for me beside it. A genuine, old fashioned, horse-drawn carriage decked out in ribbons and garlands is parked on the street with the beautiful creature stomping its feet leisurely.
“Do you like it?” Charlie asks, leaning his head out of the carriage with a silly grin on his face.
“It’s amazing!” I breathe honestly.
“Ha! I knew it!” he crows proudly before hopping out to greet me. “I knew you’d love it. And it really is perfect as the theme of the ball tonight is Charles Higgins? Dickens? Or some long dead literary fellow I bet you’d love, and we’re taking it to the next level with this ride guaranteed to give us one smash of an entrance. Had to commission it of course since these days everyone pushes for modern over vintage and I had to pay extra for the rush, but I knew it’d be worth it to see the look on your face. And can you imagine what everyone else will think? They’ll either find it spectacular or believe I’ve gone mad.”
My eyes drink it in, from the dark varnish to the horse’s swishing tale, and then I begin to notice a few flickers in the image. “Is this…illusion tech?” I ask.
“Hmm? Oh yes, obviously. It’s just my two-seater really, but to everyone else they’ll see this bizarre sensation!” Rubbing his hands together to warm them he urges me excitedly, “Come on, get inside where it’s warm.” Grabbing my hand he pulls me around to the passenger door and helps me in as I gather my long skirt and sink into the low-sitting seat.
When his door shuts behind him he gives me another grin. “Ready?”
“Yep,” I smile.
Pressing his hand against a panel the car roars to life and I can’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed that it really is just a car. Granted this is the most luxurious vehicle I may have ever sat in excepting Yosef’s glossy project and it’s certainly a lot warmer than a real carriage would’ve been, but the strange part of me had been excited to ride in the contraption even if all of the books claimed them to be rather uncomfortable and likely freezing this time of year. Still, Charlie had thought of me and my cheeks blush at his thoughtfulness. How many people would go to the lengths he did just to make me smile?
My brain starts listing off names though I’d meant the thought to be rhetorical. Yosef, Castor, Arcas…
“To think, a fancy pants diplomat went through all of this trouble just for little ol’ me,” I tease.
Charlie laughs. “Absolutely worth it.”
“Maddy,” Arcas’ voice hums in my ear. “One of your dots is glitching. You need to replace it.”
While Charlie focuses on zipping through the city I remove my compact from my pocket and click it open pretending to check my makeup. I examine the spare dots in the well for a moment before casually tapping a dot on my forehead.
“Not that one,” Arcas replies.
I tilt the mirror and tap my finger to my cheekbone finding the dots through touch and memory since once they’re activated they become impossible to spot.
“Nope.”
“What are you staring at so intently?” Charlie asks tossing a quick gaze my way.
“Just checking my makeup,” I murmur distractedly. “Don’t want to embarrass you with some awful smudge on my face.”
“You look fine,” he assures me. “Beautiful in fact.”
“Oh just let a girl be a girl,” I giggle while inwardly cringing at the words that just left my mouth. One by one I tap the dots around my face pretending I’m blending my makeup a bit more until Arcas confirms the faulty connection and I swap it for a new one then snap the compact shut.
“There, all done!” I chirp brightly.
“Confirmed,” Arcas’ voice replies in my ear.
“See? Perfect,” Charlie smiles.
A bit of tension leaves my shoulders with my mask on knowing there will be no record of my face near the scene of the crime. Witnesses are unreliable, their memories easily influenced…except Charlie who has seen me too many times to be confused or mistaken. We’d banked on him not knowing where I live or who I am until I messed that up and now we have to hope Charlie likes me as much as I like him and will decide to put our friendship above the law and keep his mouth shut. I almost laugh out loud at the thought. What a mess I’ve made.
As always with a big job, Yosef has escape plans and backup plans, but I can’t shake my unfounded optimism. I have a good feeling about Charlie and that means something to both of us otherwise Yosef would’ve tried to remove me from the roll call. I get a protective sense from him and I hope I’m not wrong. God, I hope I’m not wrong.
Sixteen
Charlie pulls the vehicle right up to the front of the steps and I gape at the stone structure dressed up in lights, garlands, and what I know logically cannot be magic. The moment I step outside noise envelops me, bright flashes throw off my sight, and I gladly clutch onto Charlie’s arm as he guides me through a thick crowd of photographers, journalists, and ogglers of all kinds. As soon as we sweep through the entrance an Android takes Charlie’s coat and music replaces the chaos left behind us.
With my arm hooked around Charlie’s elbow, he guides us into the heart of the political den. All around us people laugh, dance, eat, and scheme. Craning my neck this way and that to take it all in, I’m dazzled by the decorations only to have my awe whisked away towards the musicians, real live musicians, playing a festive instrumental that is somehow a cross between a lullaby and a battle cry all whilst firmly proclaiming the Christmas season.
“Here,” Charlie smiles noticing my speechlessness.
He presses a glass of maroon liquid into my hands and I panic. “You know I trip on even ground and right now I’m wearing heels in a moving crowd, right?” I give my very white attire a heavy glance.
Charlie can’t
help but laugh. “Don’t worry, that fabric doesn’t stain.”
I blink. “Like actually doesn’t stain or just like the stain will come out with all the elbow grease you can give it?”
“Watch.” To my horror he tips his own glass and a small stream of dark liquid splashes onto my dress only to slide its way down and onto the floor leaving no trace behind.
Punching him in the arm I squeak, “What if it hadn’t worked?!”
Laughing some more he clinks his glass with mine and recaptures my arm tugging me along to some group or other he’s spotted. Thus begins the boring business part he’d warned me about though with the music and people and décor I find myself plenty entertained especially when the children’s choir joins the stage and I see Frocket in an adorable little robe I will be sure to tease her about later.
Charlie introduces me to some raisin in a tuxedo and I smile politely before tuning them out. Yosef would be dismayed at my letting this opportunity to absorb potentially interesting tidbits for him to manipulate pass me by, but he can always listen in through my mic if he’s so desperate and I’m not about to take advantage of Charlie more than I already am. I just can’t.
Tentatively I take a small sip of the beverage growing warm in my hand and immediately recognize it as some sort of alcohol. A fabricated one by the instant buzz it gives me. I surreptitiously place it on a tray of a passing waiter hoping the buzz will wear off soon because as much as I wish otherwise, I’m not really here to have fun.
The night parties on as Charlie drags us both around the grand room alternating between snacking on tiny food and greeting other important uppers. As beautiful as the place is, and the decorator truly does deserve an applause, it seems that anything can become dull given enough time and lack of importance. The music, however, keeps me enraptured and begging to dance. I caught glimpses of Castor and Nyx a few times earlier but haven’t noticed them in a while which only serves to remind me of our real purpose here and threatens to sober me of the magic the musicians summon as they play swelling arrangements of Christmas carols.
