CHAPTER ONE
I watched, with morbid fascination, the small, crisp black husks scattered across the chipped white paint of the window in the landing of the Brooklyn Lodging House For Girls. It was hard to believe that they were ever alive. The little bugs, I mean.
I wondered what it would be like to be shut up in an airless glass box, stuck between the screen and the window pane for months, baking in the relentless New York sun, able to see the outdoors and endlessly hurdling yourself against the invisible wall that seals you from what you want most, from what makes you feel alive, until eventually you succumb: scorched, exhausted, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the task.
At what point, I wondered, does a fly give up trying to escape the prison it's been put in? At what point does it just give up, buoyed by the intense failure that swiftly follows each attempt? At what point do you decide that enough is enough?
"Angel! Are ya ready to go yet?"
I turned at the sound of two girls speaking at once, my favorite pair, Joker and Wicked. They looked very fashionable in their skirts and blouses made of complimentary colors, but looked much like themselves with their top hats on. They were both grinning, arms hooked together, watching me.
"Yeah. Here I come," I answered, standing up from my bed. I preferred Spot's bed; he'd slept in it longer so it had a worn in crease that was comfortable to sleep in. The one I had in the girls' home was a newer mattress, thanks to the lovely sisters of the church at the end of the block.
Wicked and Joker led the way out the door, pausing when the sisters of that very church pulled up to the curb with their carriage of half-hearted breakfast. Like a good little Irish Catholic, I signed the rosary and accepted the hunk of bread I was given.
Brooklyn had always been under 'reform' since the dissolution of the Five Points in Manhattan years back. A handful of churches scattered around the city made it their mission to reform the more un-Christian parts of New York. Nobody bothered with the fact that most of us street kids had no home to go to and no parents. Plenty of us had parents, but worked the streets making money to help support them. It was funny that way; nobody wanted to fix the root of the problem, just the effects of it.
We reached the distribution yard in record time and I smiled when I saw Silver sitting on the curb just outside, his nose in the paper. Silver was Spot's longtime pal and his official second in command. They had an insanely tight bond, and I knew from experience how much Spot valued Silver's insight.
"Hey, Silver! How's the headline today?" I asked, kicking the toe of his shoe playfully to get his attention. However, my smile faltered when he looked up at me, his mouth set in a grim line. Silently, he handed over the paper to me. The front page headline chilled my blood to ice.
'BOY MURDERED IN QUEENS. POLICE BAFFLED BY BOY'S BRUTAL STRAGULATION.'
"Oh, God," I said quietly, feeling my stomach roll inside me. The article was gruesome, sharing the shocking facts of the case that they knew so far. The boy was quite young, and worked as a newsie, of all things.
"Has Spot seen this yet?" I asked Silver.
"Seen what?"
I turned slightly at the familiar voice and handed Spot the paper when he got close enough. His arm hooked around my waist and he kissed the side of my head. He was quiet as he skimmed over the article, his mouth taking on the same grim line as Silver's.
"What are we gonna do, boss?" Silver asked, standing up finally. "You think Patch will be here soon to talk about it?" Patch was the current leader in Queens. He stayed pretty neutral as much as possible in turf wars and squabbles between territories, but I knew that he and Spot had a very amicable relationship and helped each other out on occasion.
Spot shook his head, handing the paper back to Silver. "Patch can handle himself." He frowned. "I would hate for that to happen to any of our kids, though." His eyes found the birdies, talking amongst themselves nearby. They were all so young, around the age of the boy who was murdered.
"I'll keep an eye on them, Spot," Silver said, noticing how his eyes lingered on the little ones. "Maybe we shouldn't have them running errands today, just in case."
"They'll go in pairs. I need to know what's going on," Spot said, with a note of finality. I knew that Spot liked to have the birds floating around. Without them, he felt blind.
Silver knew he didn't have a dog in this fight, so he was forced to let it go. He nodded slightly and turned on his heel, heading over to the birds, presumably to tell them to stick together today.
"Are you really not going to see Patch?" I asked Spot, turning slightly to look at him. "He's your friend, Sean. It's dreadful what happened to one of his newsies."
He was thinking hard, not looking at me. "Not yet. I need some time to think." I supposed that was reasonable. "But I don't want you going far. You're not going with the twins to Manhattan anytime soon. I want you here."
I was irked that he thought I couldn't handle myself. "Why?"
He seemed genuinely confused as to why I was questioning him. "Because I don't want you getting into trouble."
"I can take care of myself, and I'll be with the twins who can take care of themselves. I was a rake before, don't you know?" Spot seemed to often 'forget' that I used to be a pickpocket after I'd lost him, and I didn't appreciate it.
"You're not going to Manhattan. That's final." He'd said it sort of harshly, but he softened when he saw the look on my face, his mouth against my cheek. "I just worry about you. Stay safe."
He gave me one last affectionate squeeze and then let me go completely, heading into the yard to buy his papers for the morning.
The twins joined me soon after, Wicked handing off the papers she'd bought for me. I handed her the money I owed her and we set off down the street together.
"So what does His Majesty think about the murder?" Joker asked me.
"I'm not sure, honestly. He doesn't seem rattled, but then again, he never really does," I told her, frowning. "I'm frightened, and I don't know how seriously he's taking this."
"Let him think on it for now," Joker said, curling her arm around my shoulders as a sign of reassurance. "We'll bother him some more tonight, see what he thinks. For now, let's just carry the banner and try not to think about it."
With that, Joker hooked her arm through Wicked's and they parted with me at the intersection, waving jovially at me. I smiled a bit and kept going, hawking the headlines as I went. The word 'murder' was definitely a favorite buzzword amongst the civilians because I was out of papers very quickly, without having to improve the truth. It bothered me.
I sat down on an empty stoop and adjusted my skirt a bit, just quietly people watching. At the far intersection, a sensationalist was screeching propaganda. I never paid much attention to them, most of them preaching religion or some such nonsense. This time, my ears were attuned to the words the man was saying. He spoke of a murderer in London ten years ago called Jack the Ripper, how they never caught him, leaving the city and the police reeling from the damage that had been done.
Standing up, I made my way over to the man. There was a small crowd around him, mostly frightened-looking upper class ladies. He was handing out leaflets with shaky hands, telling everyone to stay safe, stay vigilant.
"Could I have one of those, sir?" I asked him.
He pressed a leaflet into my hand, smiling, showing off the gaps in his teeth. "Be safe, miss. Would hate to see a pretty mug like yours all carved up."
Shaken, I turned and went back the way I came, reading the leaflet. It explained in brutal detail what had happened to the five women in London, all of them ladies of the night. They had been sexually assaulted, their insides pulled out, and throats cut. My stomach rolled inside me again.
I made it back to the Brooklyn Lodging House, comforted by the familiar faces I saw hanging around outside. I headed down to the docks, counting the faces of the birds as I passed them, making sure they all were accounted for.
Spotting Silver sitting on a crate and smoking, I planted myself down beside him and nudged his shoulder with my own. He smiled at me, handing the cigarette to me. "How was your day, Angel?"
"Lots of money to be made off a dead kid," I said, a little more grimly than I had intended.
I didn't see the twins anywhere nearby, so I could only assume that they were in Manhattan still. I wanted to know what the boys across the bridge thought about what had happened in Queens, but since I was confined in Brooklyn, I couldn't go there myself. It was frustrating having a short leash.
I heard Spot's name from some of the boys halfway down the dock and looked up to see him strolling down the dock, lazy as you please, cane in hand. He didn't look nearly as thoughtful as he did this morning and I wondered if he had any more thoughts as to the boy's murder.
"Heya, boss," Silver said, spitting in his hand.
Spot returned the gesture and they shook. "Take a walk with me, Lissa," he said to me. I sighed and stood up. "Watch the boys for a minute, yeah, Silver?" Spot gave Silver a grin and then steered me back down the dock.
"What's on your mind?" I asked him.
"What's on yours? Still mad at me for this morning?" He slanted me a look, his mouth still smiling.
I shrugged. "Ah, not really. I guess I understand why you said it. Don't leave me on the hook forever, though."
"I know. I'm sorry if I upset you. It won't be for long. Just until I figure some things out," he told me.
"Promise?" I pushed.
He chuckled. "Cross my heart, Lissa."
"Are you okay? I know you worry about the birds," I said softly, looking over at him.
Spot sighed, taking his hat off. He stuffed it into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair. "I am worried about them. But the birds are tough."
"They are," I agreed. "But they're also just kids, Sean."
"Silver's looking out for them. That's good enough for now."
He'd done this during the strike, thinking about the big picture, everything as a whole. Whilst I had been focused on the unfairness of the raise in price, he was more focused on what was best for everyone involved. Ten cents was a meager price to pay if it meant the boys were able to afford sleeping in the lodging house and making enough to get by. It had frustrated me then, and it was frustrating me now.
"Does one of ours have to die before you realize that this isn't just a Queen's problem, but a newsie problem?" I asked him.
"Only one kid died, Lissa. One. You don't know if it was just a fluke, or if its something worse. We won't know until more information comes out, if it comes out at all." He was frowning again. "You make it seem like I'm being selfish. I'm being rational. Someone has to."
He was right, of course. I felt bad for basically accusing him of only thinking about himself when he really wasn't.
"I'm sorry. I'm just really worried, Sean. What if its one of ours next?" I asked him.
He stopped us walking and turned to face me. "We'll deal with that when it comes." He saw the look on my face and amended his statement. "If it comes. We'll be okay. Do you trust me?"
I nodded. "Cross my heart."
Author's Note-
GUESS WHO'S BACK! With a surprise sequel, no less! I was originally planning on just rewriting the trilogy since it needs updated badly, and then write this story, but you guys have three things to thank for the sequel and not the rewrite.
My favorite human being Joker is Poker with a J, because her writing is my inspiration. Mariana's Trench, which is a fantastic band and their most recent album has kicked my plot bunnies into high gear. And third is my always constant desire to write a compelling mystery story. Let's see how I do!
Leave me a review! Did you guys miss Spot and Angel? I know I did! Love you guys!
Carryin' the banner!
xx Wicked