by Hanna Peach
She could almost hear Symon’s voice in her mind. Even mountains have a weak point.
Where was his weak point? Her eyes looked over Terrapin again… Where? Where?
She saw it. As Terrapin turned to face her, she saw it. Slight limp and scarring against the back of his left heel.
Alyx waited for another attack. It came swiftly. She ducked and swept her right leg out, kicking Terrapin’s left heel. He screamed and hobbled back. She delivered a kick to his stomach. But this only made him angrier.
Terrapin rushed towards her, favoring his left foot. She tried to duck but he caught her, his arm wrapping around her neck in a choke. Alyx scratched at his arms and kicked out with her legs, but he wouldn’t let her go. Terrapin squeezed her neck tighter and tighter. Her movements began to slow.
Israel thrashed against his captors. “Stop it. You’re killing her.”
Soon Alyx stopped moving completely. She hung limp from Terrapin’s arm, her eyes frozen open. Amid the cheering, Israel’s wailing could be heard echoing through the tunnels.
Silly, silly. Immortals don’t need oxygen, thought Alyx as Terrapin paraded her “lifeless” body around the crowd like a trophy.
She waited, patiently, for the right moment…
She struck at Terrapin’s groin with her right heel. His whole body tensed and Alyx heard a loud, pained groan. The circle of men curled back, clutching themselves in a show of empathy. Alyx was dropped. She rolled away from him.
But Terrapin recovered faster than Alyx expected. He lashed for her again. She spun out of the way but not before feeling a slice of pain across her shoulder, causing her to cry out. A line of blood appeared and started to ooze down her arm. In Terrapin’s hand was a small knife.
“You dog, Terrapin. That’s not fair,” Israel yelled. “Mason?”
Mason shrugged. “He’s a pirate, lad. What did ya expect?”
Israel stomped on one guard’s foot and elbowed the other. He scooped up the closest weapon, a dagger, and flicked it up in the air. “Alyx.”
She spun away from Terrapin and caught the handle midair, unsheathing the dagger on her way down. One of the men knocked Israel in the stomach with his elbow.
Alyx hit the ground and rolled onto her feet, blade in hand. Now they were even again.
Enraged, Terrapin threw himself at her. She ducked and hooked him hard behind his weak ankle again. He buckled and threw his hands out for support. Alyx elbowed his hand, knocking his dagger from his fingers. Using his own momentum, she kicked him down to the floor. Alyx dropped her knee into Terrapin’s back, held him by the scruff of his hair and pushed her dagger’s edge against the pulse of his throat. Mason’s men became deathly silent, their arms lowering, as Terrapin’s head quivered in tiny ‘no’s’.
“Jesus, Israel, where did you find this girl? A Baghdad assassin squad?” Mason asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” muttered Israel.
Alyx glared at Mason. “I won’t kill him. He doesn’t deserve to die.” She released her blade from Terrapin’s neck, rose off him and moved towards Israel, who was still bent over from the earlier blow to his stomach.
“Then you forfeit the Right of Horatii,” Mason said. “Get her.”
Before anyone could move there was a sound of splashing. Alyx’s heart sank as she saw Yael standing by the opening of the small tunnel that she and Israel had crawled through, Do’hann climbing out behind him.
They had been found.
Yael hesitated, assessing the cluster of men around them.
Mason stepped forward. “You’re trespassing. This is our territory.”
Yael smirked. “You don’t order me.”
Alyx heard the sound of several guns being cocked and the sing of more blades being unsheathed.
Yael’s smirk faded. “Look, we don’t want any trouble with you. We just want those two.”
“You’ll take us over my dead body.” Israel picked up a blade from the ground and pointed it towards Yael. His other arm was still clutched across his stomach.
“That can be arranged,” Yael said.
“Israel, get back,” Alyx cried as she stepped forward.
“No.” He stepped in line with her. “You’re not doing this alone.”
Do’hann and Yael came at them, swords unsheathed. Alyx stopped Do’hann’s sword in the air with her dagger. His blade pressed towards her face. A thick arm covered in dark tattoos sent Do’hann flying across the tunnel. He hit the wall then fell to the ground, groaning. Terrapin was now standing at Alyx’s side. He grunted at her, thanks for not killing me. She returned a small smile.
Yael paused before he reached Israel.
“Three against two, Yael,” said Alyx. “Make your choice.”
There was a splashing of feet. One of the pirates had stepped up beside Terrapin. There was the splashing of more feet. Another had moved beside Israel. Then another. And another. One by one Alyx could feel the circle of men tightening behind her.
Yael’s face twisted into a scowl. He and Do’hann were outnumbered. He started to back away. “This isn’t over.” He moved to Do’hann, who was picking himself up out of the sludge. “Let’s go.”
Yael glared at Alyx one last time before he disappeared back into the small tunnel, Do’hann behind him.
Alyx touched Israel’s arm. “Are you okay?”
He nodded.
She turned to Terrapin. “Thank you.” She spun to look at the rest of the men. “All of you. Thank you.”
Looking at Terrapin, Mason shook his head. “You are a sorry sack to be beaten by a girl.”
Terrapin grunted.
Alyx stepped forward, raising her chin to Mason. “My name is Alyxandria and you will address me with respect. And I am not a girl,” she added.
“Clearly not a girl. You’re a demon sent from Hell to test me,” Mason muttered, a grim look on his face as he peered closer at her.
“You shouldn’t be too hard on him,” she said, her voice softening. “Your men just need some training. I can teach them a little if they are keen to learn.”
Mason stared at her, a stunned look on his face. She could almost feel the entire cavern holding its breath. He erupted into laughter. “Tickle me splendid. It’s not every day I meet a man who can best my Terrapin, let alone such a beautiful young woman. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Alyxandria, did you say?” He reached out his hand.
Alyx looked to Israel. At his nod she eased out of her fighting stance and took Mason’s hand in a firm shake. “Just call me Alyx.”
Mason didn’t let her hand go. Instead he wound her arm through his and started walking a path through his men, pulling her along with him. “Well Alyx, let us be friends instead. Come. We shall eat, drink wine and celebrate the return of the prodigal son and his very talented friend. You shall be my guest of honor and sit by my side. And you shall tell me all about how and where and who taught you to fight like that. My lord, I haven’t seen...” Mason’s voice echoed all the way through the tunnels.
* * *
“Welcome to our humble abode,” Mason declared. He helped Alyx out of the tunnel that she had followed him through, Israel close behind her.
They were standing in a cavernous space. The arching ceilings were weaved with dark green tiles, as if looking inside a large reed basket. Running in lines between the platforms were train tracks dotted with old paneled carriages, chipped green paint showing grainy wood underneath. And ropes, endless lines of ropes and rope ladders strung about from ceiling to carriage as if this were a ship. But what struck Alyx most was…
This place was alive.
Men were swinging and flipping or jumping from platform to platform. Part of one of the tracks was sectioned off and filled with blocks of foam that the pirates were flipping and twisting themselves into. Others were running and kicking off walls, leaping from bars to carriages to platform in a flowing series of movements. Exactly as she had seen Israel do.
“What is
this place?” Alyx asked, unable to keep the wonder out of her voice.
“This used to be the West End underground station. It’s now long disused and forgotten about. Lucky for us.” Mason grinned. “We call her the Saint’s Revenge.”
Alyx shook her head. “You really are pirates, aren’t you?”
At this, Mason roared with laughter.
Alyx was given the use of a compartment in an old sleeper carriage, Israel placed in the compartment next to hers. It had once been a luxury carriage, the honey-oak paneling and golden handles were evidence of this.
As Alyx drew down the faded green window shade, she could see the hustle and steam coming from a far section of the Saint’s Revenge. Whatever they were cooking, it smelled incredible. Rich and meaty. Her stomach growled and she realized it had been a while since she had eaten.
The pirates had given her a pile of clean ladies’ clothes that they had found among their loot. After putting on a pair of slim-fitting black pants and rolling up the hems, Alyx stood shirtless, holding up a frilly white blouse and muttering. Any frill was still far too much frill, as far as she was concerned.
Before she could drop the blouse and pick up another, a voice behind her startled her. “Oh wow.”
Alyx spun around clutching the blouse to her chest. Israel’s ghostly figure was sitting on her bed, gaping. “I’m sorry.” He leaped to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to−”
“It’s fine. Just turn around for a second.”
Israel turned his back. “I swear I didn’t mean to catch you like this.”
Alyx threw the frilly blouse on the bed and picked up a wide-necked shirt. It was the least offensive of all the shirts they had given her. She pulled it over her head. “You can turn around now.”
He did, but sheepishly.
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for saving us back there against Yael and Do’hann,” she said. “Losing them in the sewers was really clever. Smelly but clever.”
“About time I pulled my weight,” he said with a smile.
“And thanks for your quick thinking with invoking the Right and for throwing me the dagger.”
“Thanks for fighting like such a badass.”
“I noticed Mason called you Scrapper earlier?”
“You noticed that, huh? It’s my name down here. Every street pirate is given a new name when he joins a clan. It’s given to you at your initiation.”
“Why?”
“Most street pirates have a pretty sad past, that’s why they end up here. When you join a clan, no one cares what you’ve done before or where you’ve been. Who you were doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are and who you’re prepared to be for the clan. It’s a fresh start, so you get a new name. Plus if anyone ever gets in trouble with the law, it’s impossible for them to give anyone up. We’re all ghosts down here.”
“So why Scrapper?”
Israel laughed. “Because I was just a scrap of a thing when I joined Mason and his clan. They say that’s how I fought. A wild but determined scrapper.”
* * *
Israel sat on a crate against a platform pole. Alyx was taking Terrapin and the other boys through a lesson on one of the platforms. Israel watched as Alyx corrected technique, pointing out minute shifts in weight and going through the different ways to hold a knife. Alyx never looked as tiny as she did next to those boys. The ache in his stomach tightened.
Israel remembered when he realized just how petite she was. It was the first time she corrected his stance. She barely came up to his chin. She was in so close to him he could see the dapples of green in her irises, could smell the wind on her hair. He knew then, under that fierce façade, she was more delicate than anyone realized. She made him want to protect her.
In the underground station the air was thick with the scent of the meat and tomato stew cooking in the large pot. “Rat stew” they had jokingly taken to calling it. It reminded Israel of the time that he had called this place his home. Here, he had had some of the happier moments of his life.
Mason lumbered over, kicked another crate closer and sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a while.
A roar erupted from the men as Alyx raced Razorback up the climbing ropes. Razorback won but only just. Israel could see in Alyx’s face that she had let him. At the top of the ropes Razorback leaped off and somersaulted into the foam pit, grinning at Alyx from ear to ear after landing with a flourish. She feigned a fear of heights from her position at the top of the ropes, causing the boys to laugh and heckle at her. She threw herself off her own ropes and twisted in the air in a triple corkscrew, causing the boys to cry out in surprise.
Alyx laughed at them as she bounced into the foam pit. She had this way of crinkling her nose when she found something amusing. It was adorable as hell.
“She’s a live one, your girl is,” Mason said.
“She isn’t mine.” It was almost painful to say.
“You two aren’t...?”
“I’m not her type.”
“Did she say that?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Israel shrugged. “I just do.”
He could feel Mason’s eyes on him. He wished Mason would look elsewhere. This old pirate had a way of reading him.
“She cares about you. Not that I understand why,” Mason added with a light nudge.
“She looks out for me. There’s a difference.” A big difference.
“And you care about her, that’s plain. So what’s the problem?”
Israel considered denying his feelings for Alyx, but this was Mason... Israel knew better. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is.”
Not like this. How could he explain it to Mason? Alyx was this gorgeous, fierce, immortal creature. An angel, and he was...
“What could I ever offer a girl like that?” he said quietly.
Israel could feel Mason’s stare, heavy on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Israel said nothing. He just stared at the ground.
“Scrapper, whatever your issue is, you better get over it. And soon. You won’t find another girl like that.” Slapping Israel on the back, he added, “Even if you were to live for eternity.”
The dinner bell rang before Israel could reply. Mason got up and strode towards where they had started serving stew into thin metal bowls.
“By the way, Scrap,” Mason called back, “you still owe me.”
* * *
During dinner there had only been the sounds of slurping and the clanging of metal against metal, but now bowls had been scraped empty, bellies were full and the air was rich with noise. A case full of bootleg wine had been cracked open and bottles were being thrown back like water.
Mason clanged the back of his spoon against the underside of his empty metal bowl. “Settle down, you lot.”
The rowdiness took a moment to die down. Mason cleared his throat. “We’d like to officially welcome back our old friend, Scrapper,” there were shouts and good humored heckles, “and our extremely lovely guest.” The men erupted in hoots and cheers. Alyx warmed with pleasure. “The boys have got something for you,” Mason said to her.
Alyx stood as Terrapin came forward and presented his hands. Across his open palms lay a red leather cuff inlaid with tiny silver studs, skulls, and crossbones. From it hung a black feathered charm. Terrapin grunted.
“I’m sure you know by now that Terrapin can’t speak,” Mason said, placing one hand on Terrapin’s shoulder. “So I’ll speak for him. You have displayed courage, extreme loyalty,” Mason nodded towards Israel, “and true kindness in sparing Terrapin’s life. So we’d like to name you as an honorary street pirate to the Clan of the Saints. If you accept, of course.”
Alyx bowed her head. “I accept.”
A cheer went up, echoing throughout the station. Terrapin was nodding his head and grinning from ear to ear.
; “Then accept this as a sign of your affinity with us, Dark Angel.”
Alyx laughed at her new “name” and let Terrapin buckle the cuff on her wrist.
“Call upon our help as if we were your brothers,” Mason continued. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you want, and you are welcome back anytime.” He nodded towards Israel. “Just don’t bring him next time, alright?”
Laughter filled the station.
* * *
Over the next few hours pirate by pirate either stumbled to bed or slumped, out cold, where they sat. The din in the station faded from loud, slurred singing to soft snores. A spilled bottle of wine gave the air a sharp, fruity smell.
Mason stumbled over to where Alyx was sitting alone on a bench. She laughed as he misjudged the edge of the bench and almost fell off. “It’s just us now, Mason. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I dernt know what ya talkin’ about,” Mason slurred, holding an unsteady finger towards her face.
Alyx patted his hand away. “I know you haven’t had a real swig of wine all night.”
At this Mason sobered up and his droopy eyes became alert. “Jesus, lass, nothing gets past you, does it?”
Alyx shrugged. “I understand why you pretend to drink around these guys. But why don’t you drink?”
“My tale is as old and as common as the hills.”
“I have time.”
“Alright then.” Mason tucked his feet under the bench. “I had a good life once. Good career, good money, pretty young wife. But I was arrogant. I made a stupid mistake, lost my job over it. I started drinking. Soon my marriage broke down, I lost most of my friends, lost my house, found myself on the street. The Captain, the leader of the Saints before me, took me in and I cleaned up. Found something worth living for again.”
“Is stealing really something worth living for?”
“We don’t consider it stealing, lass, just…redistributing the wealth.” He grinned. “We only take from large greedy corporations and we pass out most of what we take.” Mason leaned in close. “Don’t tell anyone, but the Saints Clan is one of the most active anonymous donors to this city’s various charities.”
