The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Her relief was so great Ylva felt shaky. For just a moment, she had relived the lean, hungry years of her childhood, when entire families had perished because they could not grow crops. The year of no summer, they had called it. The blight year, the year god had cursed them all as sinners. It had taken many years after that for food to become plentiful once more and by then, she had no longer been human.

  Her relief let her move around the bar to dig out one of the plastic bags the peanuts were kept in. She dumped the small amount of remaining peanuts into the dish they were served in and carried the bag over to the table where Charlee stood. She scraped the meat into the bag and twisted it closed. She held it out to Charlee. “We’ve always got scraps to spare, if you ever need them.”

  The same brightness lit up her face and her eyes. “Really? Thanks!” She tucked the bag away.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to give me the card for Asher?” Ylva asked once more. “I don’t think it’s stupid to thank someone for being helpful.”

  “It’s just a dumb piece of paper,” Charlee said. “I don’t have money for a real card.” But she was pulling the card out, anyway. Slowly she held it out.

  There was a recognizable dog on the cover, with its tongue hanging out. The “thank you” in rough block letters arched over the top. “This is your dog?” Ylva asked.

  “Yeah. That’s Chocolate.”

  “It’s a great name.” She pushed a finger inside the card and looked at Charlee. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Charlee shrugged, but it was an embarrassed movement.

  Ylva opened the card.

  To Asher. From Charlee and Chocolate. It was very neat writing. Care and attention had been put into it. A small tree had been drawn next to Asher’s name. An ash tree, she realized. It had the characteristic thick trunk and massive, top-heavy foliage of an ash.

  “You didn’t put a symbol next to your name or Chocolate’s,” Ylva pointed out.

  Charlee shifted on her feet again. “He knows what my name means.” Her cheeks flamed a red that matched her hair.

  Ylva gave her a smile. “It’s a very nice card,” she assured her. “I promise I will give it to him.”

  “‘kay.” Charlee hitched the backpack over her shoulder, settling it into place. “Thanks. I gotta get home before supper.”

  “Will you make it in time?” Ylva asked, thinking about the subway at this time of day, and the long ride to the Bronx from here.

  “There’s a 4:20 express and the subway is just around the corner.” She backed up a few steps. “Thanks for the meat.” Then she turned and walked toward the door.

  Ylva watched her legs swing. She was going to grow up into a long, leggy woman, she calculated.

  As Charlee stepped out, the sun caught in her hair, lighting it up just like her smile had.

  And she is going to break hearts, Ylva added to herself.

  Chapter Four

  “Ylva, do you think boys are stupid?” Charlee asked, after swallowing a mouthful of the delicious pancakes.

  Ylva reached out to test the heat of the teapot against her hand. It was a very ladylike gesture. Everything about Ylva was ladylike. Charlee wanted to grow up to be just like her. Well, her hair was never gonna be the same as Ylva’s but she could be the same, move the same as her.

  “You know, there are more leftover pancakes in the kitchen. You don’t have to eat quite so fast. And yes, I think boys are very silly, very often. Why do you ask?”

  “You have a lot of leftover pancakes for such a fancy restaurant,” Charlee observed.

  Pierre came up to the table, his chef’s whites pristine and crinkling. He grinned at Charlee.

  “Hey, Pierre!” she greeted him. “These are really good, you know.” She held up her fork. “I don’t get why people don’t want to eat them.”

  “They are good because I make them,” Pierre told her. He bent from the waist. It almost seemed like he was bowing. Ylva had explained he was very old-fashioned like that. It didn’t bother Charlee at all.

  “But I ‘ave ‘ere, for your doggie. Look.” Pierre placed the plastic bag on the table. It was full of meat scraps and had been sealed off properly.

  “You’re the best, Pierre,” Charlee told him.

  Pierre brushed at his mustache with quick little movements. “It is nothing,” he assured her and walked back to his kitchen.

  Ylva watched him go, with a smile of her own.

  “He really isn’t cranky like you told me he was,” Charlee said.

  “I think he likes you,” Ylva told her. She touched the bag with the scraps in it. “And he makes pancakes just like you like them.” Her gaze lifted up from the teacup in front of her. She looked at Charlee quickly, like she had said something she shouldn’t.

  Charlee lowered her fork. “He makes these for me? I thought...but you said they was leftovers, like the scraps for Chocolate!” She felt queasy. She didn’t have the money to pay for real food.

  “They are, Charlee,” Ylva said. She patted her hand. “Tell me why you think boys are stupid?”

  The tiny door chime sounded softly and Ylva looked up. Charlee looked around, too. It was barely four in the afternoon and she had learned over the last couple of months that customers rarely came in that late...or that early.

  Asher was shaking off raindrops from his coat and hair, looking down at the plush carpet as he ran his fingers through the almost white locks. Then he looked up and Charlee felt a jolt of pleasure course through her. She had forgotten how tall he was and how big across his shoulders were.

  His hands were just as big as she remembered them, only she remembered them curled around the hilt of his sword (that no one must know about).

  She grinned. “Asher!”

  He didn’t smile back. He looked at Ylva, who remained seated at the little table they were using, close to the bar.

  “You remember Charlee, don’t you?” Ylva said softly.

  “You got my card, didn’t you?” Charlee added.

  He took off the raincoat and threw it over the back of the nearest sofa. He wore a suit underneath, but the tie was loosened (like it was when he—).

  Charlee got to her feet, chopping off the thought. His lack of a smile scared her. “You’re mad at me.”

  Asher looked at her. His eyes were very blue. She hadn’t really seen them properly in the dark, but now she could.

  “I’m not mad at you,” he said. “I’m just surprised to see you.”

  Charlee touched the table, where Ylva still sat. “Ylva and Pierre give me scraps for Chocolate. You...you don’t mind, do you?”

  He came closer. His gaze roamed over the table where they sat. Ylva had her teapot and the tiny, fancy teacup with the little curly handle that was hers alone. Everyone else had to use the squat white cups for tea and coffee. There was a plate with the other half of a croissant on it that she never finished. Charlee often ate that, too. Then there was the big round plate Charlee was using to eat Pierre’s pancakes.

  “They’re leftovers,” Charlee said quickly. “No one likes Pierre’s pancakes, but I do. They’re great.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, especially like that, like she was in trouble. But while Ylva wouldn’t talk much about Asher and neither would Pierre, she had built up an impression that Asher wasn’t just a manager. He was more than that. And here she was, eating his food and taking it for Chocolate.

  Asher and Ylva exchanged one of those adult glances that seemed to say a lot without words. Charlee was getting better at reading them, but this one sailed by her and remained a mystery.

  Ylva pulled out one of the other chairs at the table and patted the cushion. “Sit and have some tea with us, Asher.”

  He looked at his watch, then seemed to decide that he did have enough time. He pulled the chair up to the table and picked up the remaining half of Ylva’s croissant and bit into it like he was very hungry. Ylva pulled a cup and saucer off the next table, and poured tea into it. She seemed smug about something.
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br />   Then Charlee looked at Asher again, taking in details about him that she had forgotten, or hadn’t noticed, that first night. He was her first real hero. It was important that she get all the details right in her mind. There was still a lot she had to learn about him. But that was her secret to keep (just like their secret was a real, grown-up secret).

  Asher chewed and swallowed. “Good,” he said and reached for the teacup Ylva offered him. “My thanks.”

  She nodded her head at him. It wasn’t so much a nod, but she rolled it forward, like they did in historical movies. Charlee stared at her. It had been such a...a royal thing to do.

  “So. Charlee,” Asher said, drawing her attention back. “How is Chocolate doing?” He was staring at her in an odd way, the same way he had been looking at her that first night. (Our secret! Remember!)

  “She’s doin’—doing—really good. Do you work at a bank, too?”

  Asher blinked. Then his puzzlement cleared. “The card,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That’s how you found me. You starred the number.”

  “But it’s taken weeks and weeks to find you, though. Ylva said you would be along eventually. You’re a very strange manager, for a manager. Ylva’s a manager and she’s always here, almost every single day when I stop by, but you’re not.”

  “I’m a different sort of manager,” Asher agreed.

  “You got my card?” She was reluctant to ask again, because the card had been such a pathetic thing. But she had wanted to do something to mark the difference he had made in her life, and a card was the least dangerous thing she could think of. She had composed the message for the inside with the greatest care. Anyone but Asher who might read it wouldn’t have understood what it said, but he would.

  Asher smiled and this time it wasn’t an adult smile. It was a nice smile that reached his eyes. “I did get your card. Thank you. You haven’t had any more trouble, I’m guessing. You didn’t call.”

  Charlee wrinkled her nose. “They’re still there, but they don’t bother me.” The Lightning Lords had gone right back to lolling against fences, picking on passers-by, and maintaining their turf. Charlee had started to use different routes to and from school, going out of her way by three or four blocks, to minimize the chance of running into them again.

  Then, two weeks after she had met Asher, she had run into them. The new leader was bigger, taller and looked stronger than the late and unremarked Lonzo. He had stepped in front of her, barring her path, and looked her up and down. There was a heat in his eyes that scared her, because she had a nebulous idea about what he was thinking. It had to do with the giggling, disgusting stuff the girls at school often talked about when no adult could possibly overhear them.

  Boys and what they did to girls.

  Fright curled through Charlee. Chocolate, by her side as she always was now, growled quietly in the back of her throat. Chocolate’s fearlessness helped Charlee stand tall. She spoke quickly. “You don’t wanna mess with me.”

  The new leader looked her up and down, amused. “Says you.”

  “Ricky,” one of the gang against the fence said quietly.

  Charlee glanced at him and recognized him. “Ask him,” she said, nodding at him.

  Ricky looked over his shoulder. “Listen to the brave chicky.”

  “Ricky,” the skinny one on the end insisted. “That’s her.”

  “You better listen to him,” Charlee added. “You do anything to me, I’ll get him back here right this moment, just like he did in the alley. You touch me or my dog, he’ll appear just like he did then. He don’t like you messin’ with me. I don’t like it, neither.”

  Ricky looked like he was about to burst out laughing, then he seemed to really see her face properly. His laughter faded. He looked at the skinny one again, and the skinny guy shook his head. He wasn’t anywhere near laughing.

  “Any of you, all of you. Don’t ever come near me again,” Charlee added. She didn’t understand it fully, but she knew in her gut that the balance of power was shifting to her. She would use it for as long as she had it. “Don’t come near me, my family, or my dog. Or I’ll call him down on you. He can be here just like his weapon appeared.” She looked at the skinny guy. “Just like that,” she added and clicked her fingers.

  The skinny guy flinched. He remembered.

  Charlee looked up at Ricky, who wasn’t smiling anymore. “Get out of my way,” she said. She was shaking inside, but she knew it was very important that he step aside for her, rather than she walk around him.

  Ricky glanced at his friends, then back at her. She could tell he wanted to pull the power back, that he was looking for something that would let him. But the longer he stood not saying anything, the weaker he looked.

  Finally, his expression thundery, he stepped aside. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back along this way, or I’ll change my mind about you not being worth the trouble.” It was sheer bravado. She had won and he was trying to save face. She knew that, but it took all her courage to step past him and expose her back to him.

  Chocolate walked behind her, growling softly and continuously, until they were fifteen yards on. Then she stepped up beside Charlee once more and grinned up at her. Charlee held herself down to a walk until she had rounded the corner and was out of their sight. Then she broke into a panicky, frightened run and sprinted all the way home, her breath pushing out of her in shaky pants.

  She had spotted the gang multiple times since then, but they had acted like she was invisible. They didn’t speak to her, or even look at her, but Charlee still crossed the street when she saw them ahead.

  “I haven’t had any trouble,” Charlee told Asher, picking her words carefully. “Thanks to you.”

  Ylva was smiling as she watched Asher, who stared down at his teacup, his big hands making it look tiny. He looked almost uncomfortable.

  “I’m not supposed to say thank you?” Charlee asked.

  “Asher isn’t used to people saying thank you,” Ylva explained.

  “‘splains why he’s blushing,” Charlee observed. “You should help people more,” she told him. “Then you’d be used to it.”

  Ylva laughed.

  Asher stood up. “I’ll see you onto your train.”

  “I’m fine. It’s just around the corner.”

  “It’s raining. I have a big umbrella. Do you?”

  Defeated, Charlee shook her head and picked up her backpack reluctantly. “I guess I’ll see you, Ylva. Thank you for the pancakes and the food for Chocolate.” She slipped the sealed bag into her backpack.

  “You’re more than welcome, Charlee.” Ylva stood up and began to clear the plates on the table with professional efficiency.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Asher told her, and Ylva nodded.

  * * * * *

  “If you have such a large umbrella, why didn’t you use it when you walked to the restaurant just now?” Charlee asked.

  “I like the rain,” Asher said. He was holding the black umbrella mostly over her and she wasn’t getting a drop on her as a result. “How have you been, Charlee? Are you truly okay?”

  “I really am. So is Chocolate. She meets me at the train each night, when I get back home, because she knows I’ll have food for her. I feed her and then I go home. The gang is scared spitless of you. I remind them whenever I have to.”

  Asher’s mouth pulled up into a smile and she got the impression that he really didn’t want to smile, but was smiling anyway.

  “Ylva said I should go to the restaurant for scraps. Whenever I wanted to,” Charlee added.

  “You can,” Asher confirmed. “And you can eat all the pancakes Pierre cooks, if you like.”

  “Do you...does the restaurant belong to you?”

  Asher glanced at her. There was something troubling in his eyes.

  “Truth for truth,” she added. “Deal, remember?”

  “Yes, I own the restaurant.”

  “And you work at a bank. Or do you own that, too?”


  “That’s a bit more complicated.”

  “You don’t work there.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “It’s called Strand Manhattan Trust. Your last name is Strand. Is it your bank?”

  Asher sighed. “In the way you mean, yes, it’s mine.”

  “And you have a magic sword that you use when no one is looking.”

  Asher looked over his shoulder.

  “It’s okay. No one is close enough to hear,” she told him. “And the rain is loud, too. I think I’ve figured you out.”

  Asher looked both surprised and amused. “You have?”

  She nodded. “You’re a superhero. But not exactly like Superman. You look out for the little guys. Like me. And you keep it a secret from everyone.”

  Asher laughed. It was a rich sound that matched his voice. “Truth, Charlee?” he said when he finally had himself back under control.

  “That’s the deal,” she agreed.

  “I’m so far away from a real superhero, you’d be disappointed if you saw what I’m really like.”

  “I don’t believe that. You saved Chocolate. And me. You didn’t do that because you’re mean or bad.”

  He paused at the top of the steps leading down into the subway, then shrugged. “I’ll take you to the platform,” he said and started to walk down the steps beside her, folding away the umbrella. “I helped Chocolate because I had to,” he said. “I should have walked on and minded my own business. It’s...well, it’s dangerous for me to get involved like that. It makes it risky. People could find out about me. So I should have walked on, but then I heard Chocolate cry out, and....” He pulled a big breath into his lungs, glancing at her.

  “You couldn’t walk on after that,” Charlee finished. “That makes you a good guy.”

  “I’m not, Charlee. I’m really not.”

  “You are to me.”

  He pushed his big hand through his hair. “Hell’s bells,” he muttered. “Look, Charlee, you can’t go and get some harebrained idea into your head that I’m some angel or something. I’m not a superhero. I don’t go around saving people. I’m just a...a man.”