Chapter Six

New York City, 1902

Tuesday, Day Two

Early Afternoon

Bolt pushed on, leaving his old tenement building behind, along with the memories it had stirred up. Memories that felt like they came from a different lifetime. It had been five years since he last saw his father. That day he still remembered, clear as a bell.

He had been fifteen at the time, and slightly more cynical than his ten year old self. That being said, he still idolized his father, and often mimicked him, hoping to catch the man's attention as often as he could. Not that William Henderson ignored him, but he often had other things on his mind. Making enough money to support them had been his focus, and Bolt had his suspicions as to how seedy his father's ways of income were. But at fifteen, he never thought to question them. Yes, he could still remember the day his father never came home. He'd stayed up, waiting, until well after two in the morning. But his father never showed. He'd been woken, somewhere around eleven o'clock, by a banging on the door. Bleary eyed, he'd gone to answer, and was greeted by a young boy, maybe about eleven years old. The boy had thrust a small package, into his hands, before turning and running off with out a word.

Bolt had torn away the newspaper that had been the wrapping on the package, and found himself staring at a gold pocket watch. It was as familiar to him as the New York City streets had become. The gold had dulled, and could use a good shining, but the engraving on the front could still be read. It was his father's initials, followed by these words: "A family, even unto the end of time."

It had been a gift from his mother to his father, on their wedding day. Bolt had never seen his father without it. Until that day.

Bolt remained at the flat for almost a month, before the landlord kicked him out for not paying the rent. He had left, but spent the better part of two weeks in an alley, watching the building, and waiting for his father to show up. Finally, his hunger got the better of him, and he went to work at a local factory. He continued to spend the night in the alley though, until something in him snapped. His father was dead. He wasn't coming back, and Bolt was on his own.

The grumbling in his stomach brought Bolt back from his recollections, and he pulled out the pocket watch, which he'd never been without, and saw that it was well after one. He would have to take a break from the job search, so he could eat lunch.

Hannah smiled wearily at her last customer, more then ready to pack up her things and leave. It had been a long day, and she had been considerably distracted all day, her mind still stuck on Elijah, and what was going on with him. It was almost as if she had been blocking it out, but know that she'd thought about it, it had released a floodgate of worries and concerns.

She was placing a box of pins beneath the counter, cleaning up before she left for the day, when the sound of shattering glass filled the air, followed by the screams of customers and employees alike.

Hannah's could feel the color draining from her face, when her eyes fell on the reason for the broken glass. Lying not two feet away from where she was standing was a brick. Well, half of one actually, and wrapped around it was a crumpled piece of paper. Hannah's heartbeat quickened, and she stooped, tugging the paper free, and shaking the shards of broken glass of, careful to avoid cutting herself.

"Everybody remain calm," Hannah recognized the voice of one of the salesmen, Robert Pearson.

Hannah tuned him out, bringing the paper up closer to her face, to try to discern the messily scrawled words. She squinted to make out the words- "If Bolt wants to keep you alive, he-"

"Hannah! Hannah, are you alright?!" Elisabeth's worried voice cut through her thoughts, and with shaking hands she folded the paper, shoving it into her waistband to read later.

Hannah smoothed her hands over her skirt, in an attempt to still them. "Ellie, what are you doing here?"

"I was walking by on my way home, and heard the crash. Is that the brick?! Good Heavens! It almost hit you!"

Hannah had to bite her tongue to keep her sarcastic reply inside. Of course she knew it had almost hit her, she was the one standing next to the brick, shaking uncontrollably. "I'm fine, Ellie, it missed. Just a little shook up, that's all."

"Oh, you poor dear! Why on earth would anyone throw a brick through a window like that?"

Hannah settled her hand over the note, which was just barely poking up over the top of her waistband. She would like to know the same thing. Her concern about Bolt had officially reached its peak.

"Come, Hannah, let me get a look at you. Were you hit by any of the glass?" Elisabeth pulled her sister closer examining her carefully, "Oh, dear, you're bleeding."

"What?" Hannah asked, confused. She hadn't even felt it. She reached her hand up to her forehead, feeling a small trickle of blood. "It's fine, Ellie, just a little cut."

Elisabeth was in full mothering mode, though, pulling out her handkerchief, and wiping off what blood she could. "There might still be glass in there. Where's Mr. Morrison, I demand he send you to a doctor!"

Hannah rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips.

"I'm here, I'm here," announced a flustered Mr. Morrison, who was ringing his hands, "Of course, take her straight to the doctor," he said, nodding emphatically, "Tell them to send me the bill. I can't believe this happened in my store." His attention shifted, as he scanned the room, "Mr. Pearson, get the police here immediately! I want this investigated!"

Ellie tugged on her sister's arm, pulling her towards the door, "Come on let's get you to Dr. Bennett."

And that was just the beginning. If Hannah had known what was in store for her over the next few days, she probably would have left the city entirely. I know she had her second thoughts about staying in New York without her parents, but for the most part, Bolt erased those concerns from her mind entirely. It was only when her fear of the city involved Bolt, that she began to really worry.