by J. E. Taylor
“What can I do you for, girl?” she asked as she approached.
I shifted and eyed the dresses. “I’m looking for something appropriate for the wedding this weekend and some extra clothes to tide me over for a bit.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You sure they will let a condemned slave into the gardens, missy?” Her arms crossed as she gave me a sideways glance.
My gaze dropped to the floor. I guessed the kind store owner knew who I was after all. I turned and took a step towards the door.
“Where you going?” she asked.
I paused and looked over my shoulder. “You obviously know who I am.” I took another step away.
“Aye,” she said. “Do you have money?”
I stopped again and nodded.
“I don’t see many in this godforsaken sector offering to buy clothing from my store, so I’m not exactly in a position to turn away my next meal,” she said.
“Really?”
The smile that graced her face filled me with a welcoming warmth. I flushed with gratefulness when she nodded. She rubbed her hands together and eyed me before she turned to the wall. She pulled two dresses down and held them out to me.
“You can try them on in the dressing room through that door,” she said and pointed when I took the gowns.
In the dressing room, I slipped on the red frilly dress and glanced in the mirror. My nose wrinkled. This was not me. It had too many layers and was too girly. I slid it off and put it back on the hanger.
The other dress felt like a dream against my fingertips. Deep sapphire satin caressed my skin as I pulled the form-fitting dress over my head. The image in the mirror sent a pleasant shock through me. This dress fit like it had been made just for me.
I stepped out to model it to the thrift shop owner, and she beamed.
“That is perfect!” She clapped her hands with excitement and handed me a few pairs of jeans and some sweaters for me to try on.
I took the bundle and headed back in the dressing room. By the time I finished, I had a sizeable yes pile in comparison to those in the not my style pile. The only thing left that I needed were shoes for the dress and undergarments.
When I stepped out of the dressing room for the last time with the pile in my hands, I smiled at the row of sandals lined up by the bench.
“I took the liberty of picking out a few dress shoes for you to try,” she said.
I began to worry about the cost of all these items, but I did need sandals because my worn boots would look atrocious with the blue dress. I reached for the silver sandals and slid my feet in. They fit just as perfectly as the dress, so I added them to my purchase.
The wad of money I pulled from my pocket didn’t seem nearly enough to cover the pile on the counter.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
She eyed the money and pulled all but three bills from my hands.
“That should do it,” she said with a smile and dumped everything in a fabric sack before handing it to me. “I suggest you try to take a bath before the blessed event.”
I nodded. I knew I needed to clean up, but I had no idea it was so obvious that a stranger could pick up on it. Shame heated my face. A shower was something I took advantage of in the servant quarters of the mansion. Running water and decent facilities were not available to me in the high rise.
I mumbled my thank you and headed back into the crowded street.
A voice stood out among the rest. “Slutty servant girl.”
I immediately recognized the owner. I glanced in the direction of the more upscale part of town, and there stood Jaden with Eleanor on his arm. Her lip was still discolored, and the gap where her teeth had been stood out with her sneer. Two massive guard dogs strained against the leashes she held.
A wicked grin formed. “Sick her, boys,” she said with a lisp and let go of their harnesses.
My gaze met Jaden’s, and anger sparked inside me just as the dogs launched. I swung the bag as the first dog reached me. The beast dug its teeth into the cloth, ripping. The other dog joined in, yanking at the bag and tearing the contents within. I tried to pull it away, but they kept biting and tearing like it was a game until the clothing fell onto the road as ruined as the bag.
The dogs played tug-of-war with some of the items while Jaden wore an unfamiliar sadistic smile. But his eyes didn’t match his expression. To me, they said ‘run, get away.’
His wife-to-be was openly smiling, enjoying the humiliating show. “Kill,” she commanded.
Jaden’s eyes widened in horror, and his smile faltered.
I didn’t wait. I turned to run, but before I was half a dozen steps away, the weight of one of her beasts connected with my back, sending me to the ground. Gravel bit into my palms. I shrugged my shoulders up to keep the dog from getting a grip on the back of my neck.
Rolling, I was able to knock the first dog off, but the second was on me in an instant. His fangs dug into my leg, yanking a yelp from my throat. The sky darkened above as my panic manifested.
A scream like a banshee came from the thrift store. The salesclerk came flying out with a broom, uttering an ancient hex that made the dogs retreat a few steps in confusion.
“Attack!” Eleanor yelled.
The dogs took a tentative step forward. The woman threw what looked like dust in their direction, and they backed off with their tails between their legs as if they had been sprayed by a skunk. The shop owner glared at Jaden and Eleanor as she reached her hand to me.
I took her offered hand, and she helped me to my feet.
“You arrogant ass,” she snarled to Jaden and Eleanor. “Haven’t you already done enough?” She put her arm around my waist and led me back into the confines of her store before the dogs were able to shake whatever she had thrown at them.
She clicked the lock and turned the closed sign so it faced out before she brought me into the back room behind the store. I glanced around at what appeared to be an efficiency apartment. It was bigger than what either my mother or I had in the servants’ quarters.
I winced as she let go, and my full weight landed on my mangled calf. “I’m sorry, I’m bleeding all over your floor,” I said, looking at the trail I left.
She had already stepped into another room. When she returned, she had a first aid kit in her hand.
“Don’t be silly.” She crouched down to tend to my wound. “My name’s Gypsy Rose, by the way,” she said with a smile as she cut my only pair of pants.
“Star Brighton,” I said.
When she dabbed the puncture wounds with alcohol pads, I bit the inside of my lip to keep from wincing. She gave me a tiny smile and then stepped to her cupboard. When she pulled out a white candle, I let out a breath.
“You’re a witch?” I asked.
“Aye.” She lit the candle and set it down near my leg. “Magic mend and candle burn, heal this wound, and let good health return. By light of the moon and the path of the north, let infection be purged, and good health flow forth.” She poured a small canister of liquid over my wounds. “Goddess of night, hear my humble plea, as I will it, so mote it be.”
I gripped the arms of the chair as the liquid burned over each of the punctures. I didn’t cry out, but the silent rant in my head was loud enough to drown out my panting breaths.
Gypsy wrapped my leg in gauze and gave my knee a pat before she put the candle on the small rickety table and slid into the chair opposite me. “Are you the one who knocked out her front teeth?”
My lips twitched into a smile at the same time heat filled my cheeks. I gave a single shoulder shrug in response. “I, um, I don’t think those dogs spared any of the clothing I bought.”
“I think that’s probably a true statement, but I’m not going out there to see.” She leaned forward and blew the candle out. The smoke drifted in my direction, forming a widening lasso before settling around me.
The smoky fog dissolved, leaving me lightheaded. I blinked and reached for the edge of the table. My leg sta
rted a maddening itch that reached down to the bone. I shifted. The world spun, and my eyes refused to focus.
The last thing that registered in my mind was the table coming towards my face at an alarming clip. Then darkness claimed me.
Chapter 11
I woke with a start, sitting up on a nice warm bed with my leg itching like I had stepped in a batch of poison ivy. The gauze was soaked, and I wasn’t sure if that was the salve Gypsy had poured on it or if it was from whatever may be oozing out of the dog bites.
My caretaker wasn’t in the little apartment. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Testing to make sure my leg would hold my weight, I slowly stood and crossed to the doorway leading to the store.
Angry voices argued on the other side of the door. I leaned closer.
“Why does the Regent even care if I helped that poor girl?” Gypsy asked, her voice carrying exasperation. “What harm has she done to the Regent?”
“Her mother was responsible for the death of the Regent’s son,” a deep male voice snarled.
I almost stepped out in my mother’s defense, but Gypsy’s response gave me pause.
“So the girl must be punished for her mother’s sins? How is that even remotely just?”
I leaned against the wall, thankful I found an ally, but Gypsy did not understand at all. I had been persecuted all my life, enslaved by a bitter and unstable woman just because my father had not chosen her. Lady Justice was blind in my case, and there was nothing that Gypsy could do to fix it.
“The orders stand. If you see her again, you are not to help in any way. Do you understand? No clothes, no food, no interfering with the Regent’s wishes.”
“She is not a criminal,” Gypsy muttered.
“She is in the eyes of the Regent. This is a warning. If you give safe haven to the girl again, the Regent will see you tried and exiled.”
I clenched my fists and hot tears burned my eyes and the back of my throat, but I wouldn’t release them, not with the guard still in the building. As soon as I heard the bells above the door ring, I shuffled back to the bed and sat down.
Gypsy came into the room a few moments later, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. She pulled a chair out and took a seat with a sigh.
I stiffened, expecting the worst as she studied me.
“You overheard that conversation?” she asked, hooking her thumb towards the door.
I nodded and stood. “I guess I should be getting out of your hair.”
“Sit down and rest that leg.” She waved me back down.
I arched my eyebrows at her, surprised by her cavalier attitude to the threat of helping me. “But what about the guard’s threat?”
Her hand fluttered back and forth like she was waving away a plume of smoke. “It’s no bother. Samantha Mallory knows better than to challenge me. That woman has no power here.”
My breath caught at her blatant disregard for the Regent. Especially since I had never heard of Gypsy Rose before I stumbled into this thrift shop. “What do you mean?”
“Our families have been at odds for generations. Unfortunately, I am the last of the Roses. Once I’m gone, there will be no one to remember or pass on the knowledge that the Mallory clan stole the regency from my family. They have poisoned sector eleven with their prejudices ever since. This is the first Mallory regency in over five hundred years that has not birthed a daughter.” Gypsy smiled in a way that gave me chills. “It looks like the curse of my ancestors may finally have taken.”
“What curse is that?” I asked. I didn’t like the idea of Jaden being cursed at all.
“That the house of Mallory shall fall and another bloodline shall step in to rule. Unfortunately, it looks as if the next Regent is going to be even more heinous and cold-blooded than the current regime.”
I huffed. Eleanor was shaping up to be far worse than Samantha ever was.
“Yes, she is. But Jaden isn’t a bad person, so maybe he’ll rub off on her,” I said.
Gypsy laughed at me. “If he isn’t a bad person, why did he just stand there and do nothing while you were being attacked?”
Things had moved so fast that I didn’t have a chance to digest what happened. I had caught the plea in his eyes for me to run, and the shock when that witch gave the kill order. The sparkle of the ring on my left hand captured my attention.
I knew why he didn’t stop the dogs. It was the same reason why I didn’t use my magic. We were in public and conditioned by fear.
“He’s protecting me. If he lifts a finger to give me aid in public, I will be banished,” I finally said, meeting Gypsy’s eyes.
Her eyebrow rose, challenging me, but I kept the true nature of our relationship quiet.
“You think he’s protecting you?” She cackled when I didn’t answer her question. “That boy poisoned your reputation and made it impossible for you to survive in this part of the sector. You might be able to find somewhere up north to live in peace, but you won’t find that here. Protecting you, my ass.”
Most of the sector knew we grew up together and had a competitive streak. They had seen us racing down the street in a dead heat far too many times. But the sector didn’t know we were the best of friends, and now lovers. I didn’t know this woman well enough to expand any further than I already had.
“Well, let’s see what we can do about getting you in shape for the wedding,” she said, pulling my gaze to hers.
“Excuse me?”
“Just knowing they do not want you anywhere near the wedding gives me a good enough reason to make sure you are there.”
Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
I let a smile surface. “What did you have in mind?”
Chapter 12
I stood under the hot shower spray with my eyes closed, relishing the pelting beads of water massaging my shoulders. My mind remained focused on what Gypsy explained. Her plan was astonishingly simple, yet I knew there had to be some complexity in it. Just because she could give me a new hair color and make up my face so I wouldn’t be recognizable didn’t mean there would be challenges getting in.
My assumption was that the wedding would be by invite only, and not a general call to all citizens. As for Gypsy, she would be as likely to be on the invite list as I was, so we had to figure out what that invitation looked like in order to replicate it.
Not an easy task for two such outcasts.
However, the test run we were doing as soon as I cleaned up would give us an indication of how easy or difficult it would be to breach security on the big day. I just had to avoid Jaden. He, of all people, would recognize me. He would see under the facade.
I reached out and turned the spout off. My skin nearly shined, and the puncture wounds on my calf looked more like birthmarks instead of wounds. It was amazing just how refreshed I felt. I glanced in the mirror, and my skin was pink from the heat. I wrapped the towel around me. It reached from under my arms to just above my knees, and the plush softness encased me in a luxury I never would have thought this little efficiency apartment held.
I looked around for the clothes I had peeled off my body, but they were no longer in a pile on the floor. A chill crawled up my spine at the thought that Gypsy had come in while I was in the shower.
When I stepped into the main room, a stack of clean clothes sat on the chair near the bathroom door. I snatched them and slid back into the bathroom to dress. The soft silky fabrics caressed my skin. I studied the outfit in the mirror. It wasn’t my usual t-shirt and jeans. This was more upscale, more sleek.
A soft knock sounded. I quickly hand-combed the knots out of my hair then reached for the doorknob. Gypsy stood on the other side with a grin and one of the largest makeup bags I’d ever seen.
“Are you ready for your transformation?”
I took one last glance at my face and then gave her a nod, following her out into her little apartment. She waved to the chair my clothes had occupied, and I took a seat.
Gypsy started with my hair, comb
ing it. The sleepy lull she created with each stroke of the brush sent relaxing tingles though my body until I was in a state somewhere between awake and slumber. The comb caught on a knot, yanking me back to full awareness with the scream of my scalp.
She continued without so much as a pause, separating sections and rolling them into small curls that she pinned to my head. The number of times she pricked my scalp with bobby pins gave me an indication of just how many mini-rolls of hair sat on my head. I couldn’t see the result, but I thought I must have over two dozen of these mini-buns stuck in no semblance of order.
I started to doubt her hairstyling abilities. That’s when she stepped in front of me, surveying her work. With a satisfied nod, she opened her parlor bag and pulled out lotions and powders galore, then lined them up on the shelf in an order only she could discern.
The silence was killing me. “Tell me about what happened with your family,” I said, then added, “If you wouldn’t mind.”
She paused and stepped back, meeting my gaze. “You took history in school, didn’t you?” she asked, but her tone wasn’t mocking or sarcastic at all.
I nodded. She raised an eyebrow, challenging me.
“They taught us about the wars that nearly destroyed civilization and the fight for survival after that, especially with the ravagers overrunning the world. They said the ravagers came from some sort of viral mutation, and after seeing what happened to my mother, I’d have to agree.” My gaze fell to the floor, and I shuddered at the memory of the dark grey mass creeping like an army of ants over her deathly pale skin. I took a deep breath, trying to shake the image before I spoke again. “I guess the council of witches decided enough was enough and overthrew what was left of the existing governments. In order to preserve humankind, they created sixteen sectors far enough apart to keep each of them safe. Now, if the magic protecting one sector fails, the rest would still survive.”
