For a foolish moment, Alice felt like crying. She was afraid and wished her aunt was here to guard against the formidable presence of this woman. Taking a deep, slow breath and focusing on the rising and falling of her chest, Alice stepped over the threshold.
The room was downright plain, compared to the ornate decor of the rest of the house. Large windows let in light through gauzy white curtains, illuminating overstuffed green chairs and a matching couch. A sidebar glistened with elegant crystal decanters and glasses, which had a simple coiled serpent etched on them, head dipping just below the body, as if in deference to the person holding the glass. The dark green carpet was thick under Alice’s heels and she longed to take off her shoes and feel the soft fibers under her sore feet.
Instead of huge expensive paintings, the walls were covered in simply-framed black and white photographs. From the formality and obvious age of some, they seemed to be chronologically placed, a fact that made Alice roll her eyes. At the beginning were severe formal family pictures, the children aging as the photographs progressed. One portrait in the middle caught her eye, because the smallest member of the family, a tiny child in the knee-length dress and braids of the day, was actually smiling in glee, as if relishing her rebellion.
“I like her,” Alice murmured, walking to the next group of pictures.
The family photographs were soon replaced with the soft focus of a glamorous age gone by. There was nothing about the dark-haired woman in them that would stand out in a crowd, she’d be quite plain actually, if not for the glint in her eyes that spoke of fire and wit. This was clearly the adult version of the child in the earlier pictures. There was one wedding photo, and Alice could tell that the formality of it was unnatural to the bride. She could now clearly see that the woman was Mrs. Frost, and her curiosity grew.
Scattered among more pictures of Mrs. Frost and her husband were pictures of three women, ranging from young debutantes to a bit older, at various places.
One of the women was Mrs. Frost, but Alice didn’t know who the other two were. One of them reminded her of Aunt Diana, same statuesque body, same dark hair and bright eyes. The other was tiny, with a long face and light hair.
In one picture, the three of them wore large hats and suffragette sashes, an air of strength and expectations of greatness about them. In another, the three women sat on what Alice recognized as the old Jet City pier, each held a slice of pizza and were dressed in only their swimsuits. Alice thought it an odd thing to memorialize, but perhaps it had been the first time they’d had pizza.
The last picture on the wall was of the three women, the statuesque one holding a baby. Their faces had aged a bit, and the smaller woman seemed to have gotten thin to the point of gaunt. They all smiled, but there was a sadness to it, and Alice wondered what happened to Mrs. Frost’s two friends, especially the small one.
“I was a catch in my youth,” said a gravelly voice behind her.
Alice jumped. Mrs. Frost’s usual old-fashioned dress was simple today, an odd serpent brooch clasped just above her right breast. Her green eyes were rimmed in red as if she’d been crying. But what really shocked Alice was her bare stocking feet, and the fact that her white hair was hanging in thick curls to her shoulders.
“Do you recognize the woman in the middle?” Mrs. Frost asked, tapping the statuesque woman in the suffragette sash.
“No.”
“It’s your grandmother, we were quite good friends in our youth.”
“My grandmother?”
Mrs. Frost laughed. “So many things you’ve not been told. That mother of yours—”
“You didn’t know my mother,” Alice said, a fire starting to kindle in her belly.
“Oh, yes, I did. She...well, did you never wonder why your aunt did not come get you earlier?”
Alice looked down at her hands.
“Because your mother did not approve of my influence. She blamed me for what your aunt became.”
“My aunt was a business woman. And though my mother didn’t think all that highly of women doing such things, I never heard her say a bad thing about Aunt Diana.”
Mrs. Frost’s cane thumped on the dense carpet as she walked to a nearby chair.
“Make us some drinks, and I will tell you the truth. It is past time you knew it.”
Alice stared at her a moment, but when those piercing eyes narrowed on Alice, she hurried to the sidebar.
“Bourbon, neat.”
One bourbon in hand, and a churning in her belly, Alice handed the drink to the old woman, and then sat across from her. Mrs. Frost held the glass in her gnarled hands and stared at Alice’s empty ones. After a moment, she snorted and took a long drink from the glass.
“This is not the first time vigilantes have been in Jet City,” Mrs. Frost began. “Although, it is the first time their work has caught so much attention. There is a tradition, I suppose you could call it, that began fifty years ago. A woman saw the misery of the poor around her and the callousness of the wealthy. She tried to make a difference from within this community at first, tried to change the minds of the rich. But that failed — spectacularly. Then one night, she saw an old man being assaulted by some thugs. She stopped them, and in payment for her kindness, the old man offered to help the woman in any way he could, with whatever she wanted. Feeling that this was a strange, but important, opportunity, she asked him what he had to offer. Among his extraordinary talents, was martial arts. Intrigued, the woman asked for lessons. It was not long before she discovered her talent for it and realized what she could do for the poor and helpless of this city.”
Mrs. Frost sipped her bourbon as Alice stared at her.
“This...this can’t be real!”
“I will not bore you with all the details of her transformation. But, suffice to say, she became something new to help the people of the city she loved. And when she...” Mrs. Frost grinned at her. “...when I — was too injured, too old to do it anymore, I trained another to take my place.”
Alice felt her mouth go dry, the memory of something her aunt had said a few days before her death, how something wasn’t a gift, it was a burden.
“Aunt Diana?”
“Yes. She was...” Mrs. Frost’s hand shook as she brought the glass to her lips. “She was special. But I neglected to prepare her for how hard it can be to tread the line. Diana was not ready for the damage such work could do to a person in here.” She pointed to her heart.
“What do you mean?”
“It is hard to look at the evil in people’s souls, night after night, and not start to think that perhaps the world would be better off if they simply did not exist. And to know that you have the power to make that happen, that you could do something the police cannot and will not. You could play god.”
“My aunt would never—”
“What? Get rid of a killer, who twice had been released on a technicality?”
“She...did she?”
“Essentially. Put him into a coma that he never woke up from. After that...she was more afraid of herself than the criminals that she fought. It was over then, I could see it. She refused to quit, at first. Almost got herself killed and that is when your uncle and I made her hang it up.” Mrs. Frost chuckled. “First and only time your uncle and I agreed on anything.”
Alice shook her head. “I can’t believe it. She never told me any of this, not a hint. And you...you, a vigilante!”
“I was not born this old, you know.”
“There’s never been a word about this in the press.”
“Do you really think the press would care about or believe the stories of a female vigilante? And the few times anyone, your uncle, for instance, brought a story to their editor, no one was interested.”
“But, my aunt would never have kept something like this from me.”
“Even if she did not want you doing it?”
Alice stared at her.
“She was afraid for you. Afraid you would fall prey to her mistakes. But,”
Mrs. Frost leaned forward, pinning Alice with her hard gaze, “I think you are made of different stuff than Diana. And if you are willing, you could become the right woman at the right time, as I was.”
Alice shot up from the couch and turned from Mrs. Frost. Her pulse was so fast she felt her body shake with each beat.
“I just...I never thought I’d be...I mean I had hoped, and...but how to be a...I never thought...”
All those times when she was too little to stop her father from beating her mother or stop the Dorn brothers from picking on Marco. The nights she lay awake in her room at Aunt Diana and Uncle Logan’s house, dreaming of a life that had meaning and purpose beyond knowing how to cook a roast. And now, knowing the wonders that lay just below the surface of the world around her, yearning to be a part of it, but not knowing if she had anything to offer.
Wasn’t I just wondering if I could be this? Though...I wish it were anyone but Mrs. Frost offering it to me. I wish it was Aunt Diana...God, how I wish!
Tears fell from her long lashes and she wiped them away.
Mrs. Frost’s hard eyes were still there, probing at her. When Alice turned around, a knowing smile played on her thin lips.
The temptation to refuse, just to spite the old woman, was enticing, but Alice wouldn’t gamble with her destiny.
As insane as it may sound, that’s what this is. My destiny.
A warm ripple went through her body, ending at the base of her skull — and in its wake, a sudden peace settled in her soul.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Alice said, “What do I have to do?”
Downing the rest of her bourbon, Mrs. Frost got up and walked to what appeared to be a closet door on the far side of the room. She tapped on it once, softly.
Alice could’ve been knocked over with a feather when she saw Rose open the door.
“Can we come in?” Mrs. Frost asked.
Rose nodded, disappearing back into whatever space the door led to, as Mrs. Frost followed her.
“Come along, Alice.”
The room was brightly lit and far bigger than Alice would have expected. Tools of various shapes, sizes, and functions took up two walls, while three long tables formed a U-shape around the room, leaving just enough room between them for Rose to squeeze between each table.
A soldering iron sat next to something that looked half-finished, tiny bolts and screws scattered around it. Two large sketch pads sat on one table, next to what looked like blueprints of some kind of body armor. Alice unrolled the blueprint edges a little to get a better look. There was drawings of full body armor, from head-to-foot, made up of small, over-lapping plates. Alice scanned the room, looking for any signs of the armor, but not finding it.
“Do you want to see what I made for you?” Rose asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.
“Absolutely!”
Rose motioned to a sheet that was covering something in the far corner of the room. She jerked the sheet down dramatically, a huge smile on her face.
“Ta-Da!”
Alice stared at the dress form, which was draped in a set of odd looking clothes.
“Well?” Rose asked.
“Perhaps you should explain it to her dear,” Mrs. Frost said, her raspy voice tinged with dry humor.
Rose took the top piece off the dress form. It looked to Alice like a thick, stiff, long sleeved shirt with a hood attached at the back. Rose handed it to her, and it was heavier than regular clothing, but not so much that it would be cumbersome. That’s when Alice noticed that the shirt was actually two pieces: an under shirt and then a vest that fit snugly over the top.
“The vest,” Rose said, unzipping it. “Is a bit of added protection, not impervious to bullets, but it should help with knives. And it will also help keep you safe from brass knuckles and such. The under shirt is the same material as the vest, which is reinforced leather that’s specially treated. The result is that it’s exceptionally strong, but light enough that you can still move.”
Alice ran her fingers over the leather, feeling a hard plate of some kind inside the fabric of the vest.
“What’s inside the vest?” she asked.
“Some extra plating,” Rose said, her eyes sparkling. “Something I came up with myself. Like I said, not bullet proof, but incredibly flexible and strong.”
Alice felt her pulse quicken, her hand shake as she lifted what she had thought was a hood.
“That will fit over your head, to hide your identity,” Rose said.
Alice stared at the cowl, the eye holes, the delicate pattern of a snake head that appeared between her eyes. That was when she noticed that the color of the leather for the vest, shirt and cowl was a green so dark it looked black. The snake pattern was in a dark purple, and it curved sensually from her head, over her right shoulder and down across her chest, as if the snake was wound around her body.
The thought made Alice feel a strange sense of power. But she didn’t get to think about it too long, because Rose had moved to the dress from once again.
“No way are those fitting me!” Alice said when Rose handed her a pair of matching pants.
“Yes they will.”
“But…they’re…I mean-”
“You have to wear something fitted so that it does not get in the way,” Mrs. Frost explained from where she sat. “And besides, do you really believe Rose would make you something ill fitting or unflattering?”
Alice looked at Rose. “No of course not, I’m just not used to…well, these look so…skin tight.”
“They are,” Rose said. “But, so is the shirt and vest. Well, the vest will add a little bulk, but not enough to make you look bad.”
The pants were the same dark green, reinforced leather. A continuation of the snake pattern ran down where her right hip would be, across her right thigh and to the left thigh, then down her shin and her ankle.
Alice handed the pants, shirt and vest back to Rose. “Alright so what shoes do I wear?”
Rose grinned, motioning to a pair of knee high black boots on a nearby work table.
“I had quite a time finding boots small enough for you,” Rose said, handing them to Alice. “But I eventually did.”
“They feel weird.”
“That’s the shin guards I installed inside the boot. Shouldn’t hinder your mobility, but if it does let me know, I can make adjustments.”
Alice nodded. She felt overwhelmed with all this. Suddenly she was being given everything she’d ever wanted, including a suit of special clothes that would help her become-
A Hero. I’m going to be a hero.
Alice grinned. “This is so amazing, Rose. Thank you so much!”
“She is not finished yet,” Mrs. Frost said.
Rose took the boots from Alice’s hands and have her an odd looking, fingerless glove. It was made from the same reinforced leather, but just past the wrist it had that extra bit of armor that the vest had. It went up her fore arm and stopped just below her elbow. Along the top of the fore arm piece was what looked like a chamber from a gun.
Alice gave Rose a questioning look.
“It’s for these.” Rose handed her a clip of small needles. “Each has enough anesthesia to knock out a full-grown man. If you use it on someone smaller, you must remove it right after it’s injected, so they don’t overdose.”
“Why would I—?”
“You’re small,” Rose went on, “and you may need to quickly subdue assailants, if you can’t defeat them in hand-to-hand combat.”
Alice didn’t know what to say to that.
“The trigger is here.” Rose pointed to a small button on the underside of Alice’s wrist. “It’s a little stiff to keep you from accidentally shooting it.”
Alice slipped it on and tried it a few different ways, shooting blanks into a mound of fabric in a corner. At last she figured out that triggering it with her other hand was easiest.
“We can make adjustments, if needed,” Mrs. Frost said.
�
�There’s these, too.” Rose handed her two dark purple batons in what looked like a hip holster. Winding along the length of each was a purple snake.
“I’ve never used batons.”
“Good idea to learn, then,” Mrs. Frost said. “I have someone in mind to teach you.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Allen.”
Alice shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore. Wha...what do I call myself?”
Mrs. Frosts thin lips spread in a wide grin. “What those before you were called: The Serpent.”
Goosebumps lifted the hair on Alice’s arms.
None of it made sense, not really. It was like finding herself suddenly living in a fairy tale. Alice kept expecting herself to wake up and be in her room, in the same old world, with the same old role to play.
But, as her fingertips ran down the suit and her mind turned over the name she’d be taking on, Alice felt something fall into place. Maybe something she’d been looking for her whole life. This was real, maybe the most real thing she’d ever felt.
She smiled at Mrs. Frost.
“When do you go after the syndicate?” Mrs. Frost asked.
“Shadow and Steel, and I suppose, now me, are going in two days. One of the heads of the syndicate is supposed to be at the warehouse district to take possession of something.”
“One of...?”
“According to Uncle Logan’s source, there are three.”
“Like Cerebos of old,” Mrs. Frost said. “Your gear will be at your uncle’s house tonight.”
“In a cardboard box?” Alice asked, handing the glove back to Rose.
“Of course not. In a special foot locker that will only be able to be opened by you.”
“Here’s the combination,” Rose said. “It’s a special lock that will require the code to be changed every month. When it’s time, a small light will blink on the keypad.”
“You should spar in the suit, to make sure you’re used to it, before going into a fight,” Mrs. Frost said.
“So, I suppose this was what your meeting was about the other day?” Alice asked Rose.
“Yes. I wanted to tell you so badly! But Mrs. Frost swore me to secrecy.”
Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1) Page 13
