Keeping Hope for Christmas - by Pseudo Twili

Chapter 13: Darkest Hour

Zelda awakened on Christmas morning with tears still wet on her cheeks. She'd dreamed that Link was lying in the ditch of an undistinguishable road, unmoving, unnoticed and slowly being covered with snow. She'd wanted to scream, to cry out, to run to him, to stand in the road until someone would stop and help her, to pull him close and try to make him warm again. But in her dream she had seemingly no power over her limbs and she could only watch as he became a mere lump beneath the millions of tiny flakes that covered the world.

"It was just a dream," she murmured to herself, placing a hand over her throbbing heart.

She heard a slight sound and turned her head, but it was only the shifting of the half-burnt logs in the fireplace; clearly one of the servants had come in while she was still asleep and built the fire up again. On especially cold days, the furnace wasn't enough to heat all the cold corners of some rooms.

She wiped at her face again and glanced around. For just a moment she expected to see Aryll or at least some of her things. But then she had to remind herself, as she had so many times already, that her friend had insisted on moving to a different room just two days before. Aryll had declared quietly that she'd imposed on Zelda quite long enough, and if she was going to remain in the Harkinian home she would at least give the elder girl some space. Zelda had protested that she didn't have to, but the golden-haired young lady remained firm and sadly gentle. She could be stubborn, just like her brother…

Zelda didn't want to have to rise from her bed, but after lying there for several minutes and turning first from one side to the other, she huffed and sat up. As she slid out of bed, she noticed that her crimson loftwing had fallen to the floor; she picked it up and set it on her pillow.

For some time she'd been planning on wearing a kelly green dress that she'd been saving for that day, having known that Link would like it. She pulled it from the back of her closet and drew it over her head before she'd fully thought it through, but as she took a quick look in the mirror she realized again that he wouldn't be there to see it. She sat down at her vanity table and wept. When she had calmed down and dried her tears, she almost decided to take it off in favor of another of the many pretty dresses in her closet, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She didn't want to wear anything else.

Even when she had donned her stockings and shoes, put on a creamy-colored cardigan with flowers embroidered delicately along its edges, and brushed and pinned back her hair, she still dawdled in her room. She tried to summon some small measure of joy for the day, and instead she found herself wanting to cry again. She knew that she couldn't make Link appear just because she wished him to and because she was wearing the dress for him. She took a breath and released it, knowing also that her family and Aryll were likely waiting for her downstairs.

She realized also that she was ravenous for some of their chef's delightful breakfast delicacies. She couldn't truly enjoy them, however, as her thoughts were filled with concerns over her missing friend. She consumed enough so that her hunger was satisfied, and then as she took another bite of a fluffy raisin bun, she wondered if Link had enough to eat. Both her mind and her stomach balked at accepting another tiny morsel and she set down the bun.

Traipsing sadly through the hall, she found her family gathered in the living room. The boys were both crouched in front of the tree as they gazed upon the mounds of gifts and guessed which presents were theirs, Gustaf was standing to one side of the fireplace with one elbow on the mantlepiece, and Giselda was settled on the couch with a bit of knitting in her hands. Even Aryll was there, looking sad and wiping surreptitiously at her eyes when she thought no one was looking. It was a scene not to dissimilar from that of the previous year, except for the gap created by Link's absence, a hole that went straight through her heart.

"There you are, my dear!" the lady of the house greeted her daughter warmly.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," the bearded gentleman said as he moved toward her. His voice didn't carry with it his usual booming joviality and he gazed at her as though he wished he could protect her from anything that made her sad.

She returned his greeting and kissed him on the cheek. She afforded the same gesture of affection toward her mother, but it was a hasty kiss that lacked warmth. Then she settled on the sofa between Aryll and her mother and watched listlessly as Gustaf handed his wife a small present. After that, the boys were free to tear into their own gifts. But when her father picked up a cheerily wrapped package from beneath the tree and placed it on her lap, she hastily set it aside and all but jumped to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her eyes were moist and she was unable to look at any of them. "I just can't. Not right now. Please don't ask me to."

Gustaf put his arm around her and she wanted to bury her face in his jacket. "Don't cry, sweetie," he murmured.

"We can finish opening the gifts later," Giselda said with a nod.

The young woman mumbled her thanks and was about to apologize again for being such a pill, but then they heard the distinct "dong!" of the doorbell. Zelda left the warmth and comfort of her father's embrace and hastened to the door, her heart alternatively in her throat and sinking to her stomach. She was hoping beyond all hope that the group had located Link at last and perhaps that was them now…even though Telma had promised to call. She scrubbed at her cheeks with one hand and then the other.

Techer had already answered the door by the time she arrived on the scene. She stopped abruptly as she saw a gray-haired couple in the entryway, their hats, coats and scarves frosted with snow. Her heart seemed to drop all the way to the soles of her feet. She knew they seemed quite familiar and for a moment she couldn't place them. Then she recognized them from a couple of trips she'd taken with Aryll and Link to the town where the younger girl had grown up.

She tried to put on a smile through her disappointment. "…Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Galen."

Her father and Aryll had followed her, and as soon as the blonde young lady caught sight of the newcomers, she gasped and with a cry of "Mother, Dad!" darted toward them, throwing herself in her mother's outstretched arms. She said something, but it was distorted by her sobs and muffled in her mother's coat. Perosa Galen put her arm around her daughter, while the lady's husband, Lester, rather awkwardly patted his girl on the back.

Gustaf suggested that they all go to the living room, and this they did as soon as the couple had removed their snowy outerwear. Aryll, her face considerably brighter but with the tears still hanging in her lashes like dew drops, captured her mother's right arm and her father's right and clung to them tightly as they walked through the halls. The girl did the honors of introducing them to their host and hostess.

Then, when they were all settled on the couch or armchairs, Aryll burst out, "How did you get here?! I thought the roads were too poor for traveling!"

"That's what I told your mother," Lester said, with a slight frown that he'd worn most of the trip. "But she wouldn't let anything stop her. It took nearly three times as long to get here, let me tell you. We were driving most of the night."

Perosa gave her husband a look, but her expression softened as she gazed upon her adopted daughter. She dabbed her handkerchief to Aryll's moist cheeks. "You sounded so sad when we talked to you on the phone yesterday. I just made up my mind that we had to come see you, no matter what! And don't pay any attention to your father's grumbling. He was as anxious to see you as I was."

"Mother… Dad…" Aryll murmured, her voice breaking. "…You're so wonderful!" She hugged her mother and then leaned over and kissed her father.

Zelda's heart swelled with joy for her friend. Aryll deserved such an unexpected, marvelous surprise for Christmas; she had no other family to spend the holiday with, and it was clear she was as much grieved by her brother's disappearance as was Zelda. She watched Aryll interact with her newly arrived parents and she felt glad… and for just a little bit she forgot about missing Link. But familiar ache hadn't really left her, even for those few minutes, and it returned to her with such vehemence that tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn't right that he wasn't there, enjoying the tree and the gifts with them! It wasn't anything like what she'd imagined when she'd begun making her Christmas plans nearly a month ago.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to brighten after the arrival of the Galens. The two men went off to stand near the fire where they talked of cars and politics and the state of the roads, while the elder ladies and their daughters chattered about their own subjects. Meanwhile, the boys played noisily with their new toys, sometimes to such a volume that one of their parents admonished them and they quieted for a time. Techer brought in an ample luncheon, which the Harkinians shared with their guests.

For a while, Zelda participated in the conversation about Christmas traditions in their families, but her mind drifted further and further from the subject. Though she still didn't know what she would give him, she thought of the gifts her parents and brothers had picked out for him, which were mundane things like shirts, socks and a tie. She'd helped wrap those presents and placed them under the tree in hopes that he'd be there to open them. Where was he?! And why didn't the group call with the results of their discreet investigation? Her mind tumbled in so many different, agonizing directions and her breath hitched as she tried to keep herself from breaking down in front of everyone.

Pretty soon she couldn't stand it anymore. She gestured to her mother and when Giselda came away from the others, she whispered, "I'm going to go out, Mother. I just can't sit here anymore!"

The lady put her hand on her daughter's arm, gazing worriedly at her. "By yourself? Dear, are you sure you should?"

Zelda's nutty brown curls jumped as she shook her head resolutely, her mind made up. "It'll just be for a little while. I just want to walk and have a chance to clear my head. I think…I'll go to the park."

Giselda pursed her lips and looked very much like she wanted to forbid her daughter from so doing. Then the intensity drained from her face, leaving only sadness and concern. "I'll call Ferrus to drive you."

But the young woman put her hand upon her mother's arm. "Oh, I don't want to disturb him. It's Christmas. I'll just get a cab… or better yet, I'll drive myself."

After her mother's customary remark to be careful, Zelda slipped out and put on her hat, coat, gloves, scarf and boots. Techer helped her with the garage door and he closed it after she'd pulled out in one of the smaller family cars. The drive to the park was chilly before the heater finally kicked in, and everything around her, save for the sound of the engine, seemed so quiet. Snow fell everywhere and traffic was drastically reduced, but still she drove slowly. When she arrived at her destination, there were miles of space along the curb to park, whereas other times it could be quite the challenge.

As she wandered aimlessly along the paths and beneath the trees' bare branches of Oracle Park, she kept thinking about her dream. Link had been lying partially on one side, his head turned away from her, yet somehow she had been able to see his face. She was still startled because his eyes had looked so cold and hollow, an icy blue, not at all like the warm, summer-sky blue that she knew them to be. Her heart gave a great, painful leap within her as she considered that she might not see those wonderful eyes again…and her own filled with tears until her face was cold and she could barely see.

~O~

Link was plagued by his own dreams. No matter how many times he tried desperately to think of something else, his mind betrayed him and kept slipping back to the prospect of hanging himself. He could see it almost as clearly with his waking mind as he had when he was asleep. As it was with some dreams, he'd supposedly hanged himself, and yet he was also standing below and watching his body swing back and forth. His breath had constricted and he'd awakened with his hands clawing at his throat. He pulled his collar away from his neck and sucked in dozens of cold, clear breaths.

He wrestled with the temptation to end it all, coming up with all the reasons that he should: he was slowly starving to death and his body wasting away, he was cold and more depressed than he'd ever been in his life, the crooks wanted to use him for their crimes, and he had no hope of escape… Surely there were more reasons, but he was too tired to make them concrete within his brain. A part of his mind screamed at him, that he should end his life as painlessly as possible, but still he held onto that little glimmer of something that whispered to him not to give up yet.

After a while, his mind seemed to grow hazier, as if he was in another dream. But it was real enough when Dorffman, Vlaatin, Griham and Daupple entered the room and the latter two hauled Link up and dragged him over to one of the chairs left there after his games with Zaht. He sagged in the seat and stared with unfocused eyes at the floor, while the boss of the gangsters stood solidly before him.

"You want food, don't you?" the large redhead asked through a king-sized cigar clenched between his teeth.

His breath smelled of liquor and he waved a bit of bacon in front of Link's nose. The young man raised himself just slightly and reached for the meat, but Dorffman snapped it away and popped it into his own mouth, after removing his cigar. Griham chortled and Daupple cracked his knuckles.

"Not yet," the big man said. "First you agree to work with us and then we'll give you something to eat."

But Link merely dropped his hand and lowered his head again. Why did they have to keep bothering him and asking him that which he would never consent to do? His head spun and he wanted to go to sleep forever.

Dorffman snarled, grabbed the prisoner's lapels with one hand, and lifted him clear out of the chair. It was no hard feat to perform, for the head gangster was a great brute of a man and Link had lost so much weight besides. The young fellow found himself staring vacantly at Dorffman's enraged expression and narrowed amber eyes. The gangster slapped him twice, ferociously. His grip on Link's topcoat was so viciously tight that the captive felt short of breath.

"Answer when I speak to you!" the crook barked, and then all but threw him back into the chair.

Link felt his jaw and his lip, the latter of which was bleeding. "You can go to the demons," he muttered.

Dorffman's mouth hardened around his cigar.

"Let me at 'im, boss!" Griham begged. "I'll learn him a thing or two!"

"All right, have at it," the big man agreed.

Dorffman's coat was open and he hooked his finger on the top of his trousers. He moved a few steps to the side, and as he did, Link caught the briefest of glimpses at the gun he carried. Then Griham loomed up in front of the young man and dealt him swift punch. Link tried to move his head but his reflexes were too slow and the blow connected just below his eye. The sadistic crook wore an expression mixed with malice and dark glee as he struck the prisoner twice more. Then Dorffman held out his arm and Griham moved back.

"I'll give you one more chance," the gangster boss growled. "Join us and we'll let you see your sister."

"She misses you," Daupple added. "Cries for you every day. So far the boss hasn't let us try to comfort her, but when he does…" He grinned nastily.

Link's eyes snapped up to the crooks. "You don't have my sister."

The other crooks exchanged surprised glances, with Daupple whispering something like, "How'd he find out?!"

But Dorffman's face didn't even twitch. "You'll join us. You haven't any out. We've seen to it that you'll be charged with pulling off several burglaries if we let the police get to you."

Is that why they'd wanted his fingerprints? Link wondered. If his body could send enough energy to his brain so he could think straight, he might have been able to figure it out, but everything was too cloudy. Everything around him still seemed distant and removed, as if he was still dreaming. The smarting of his cut lip and throbbing cuts and forming bruises where he'd been struck weren't from a dream, however; it was more of a nightmare.

"Your name is mud," Vlaatin crowed, for that had been his idea. "The owner of the store is calling for your head. The police have an all-points bulletin out on you."

"…I don't…care," muttered Link, his chin again sinking to his chest. "I won't do it!" Though his eyes seemed heavily lidded, he was actually looking for his chance.

"Join us," Dorffman said, his deep voice thick with inviting temptation. "Join us and I'll see to it that you receive your fair share of each haul. That's a lot of mazuma. Hundreds of thousands of rupees. You'll be rich. You'll never have to work another day at that crummy store."

Daupple and Griham frowned and started forward, but their boss stayed them with a single gesture of his large hand. They didn't want to take a smaller cut! But they knew better than to argue with their leader when he was so preoccupied. They screwed up their faces, scowled and looked nastier than ever.

Perhaps the offer was alluring, but Link didn't let himself dwell on it. This time he didn't reply at all, watching and waiting as Dorffman took one more step near him.

The big man viewed the prisoner and a mirthless smile took over his features, a dark chuckle passing his lips. "But you don't care about that either, do you? All you want is to eat, isn't that right?" He snapped his fingers and held his hand out to the side. "Your sandwich, Daupple. Give it to me."

The other crook complied, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a half sandwich he'd tucked away from his lunch. Dorffman held it in one large fist and pulled back the paper wrapping, letting the smell of the meat, cheese, onions and wheat bread reach the captive. Oh, how Link wanted to grab it and wolf it down faster than he could chew! He wanted to so badly that he could nearly taste it. But it came at too great a price. He tensed and clenched his fists.

"Just one word and it's yours," declared Dorffman, his words punctuated by the crinkling of the waxy brown paper.

"Make up your mind quick," sneered Griham. "The boss ain't a patient man!"

Link sprang at Dorffman with the suddenness of a canine leaping at its prey, though he was more prey than any of the crooks were. He managed to catch the big man off balance and they both went down on the floor. He flailed weakly at the large gangster's face with one fist, while with the other he was reaching for something else. The element of surprise was with him for a couple of seconds before the others had a chance to react.

Dorffman's fist connected rather solidly with the side of Link's face and stars erupted into his vision. The other crooks were shouting things that Link didn't quite hear; they reached down and hauled the prisoner off their boss. They were none too gentle with him as they dragged him back to his mattress and threw him roughly down. They cursed him and Daupple kicked him twice. Link groaned and curled in on himself, his breath coming in raw, painful gasps.

"Dirty little pipsqueak!" seethed Griham.

"I didn't think he'd have nerve enough to do that!" Vlaatin said, glancing at his boss. "…Guess he's pretty hungry."

"Lousy son of a remlit!" snarled Dorffman, his face red even through his dark complexion. He lifted one hand to his lip and cursed.

The sandwich lay on the floor where it had fallen. The contents were oozing and sliding out because in the hubbub someone had trodden upon it. Daupple stooped, picked it up and stared at it distastefully. Meanwhile, Griham was trying to brush off his leader's coat.

"Lay off!" the big man growled, lashing out at him.

Vlaatin faced Dorffman, his own expression calm and collected again. "What are we going to do with him now, Boss? If he won't help us, then he's a liability, a millstone hanging around our necks. And I've heard some rumblings that someone's asking questions. It's too dangerous to keep him around."

"I told you we should've bumped him from the start!" exclaimed Griham, adding his rupee's worth.

"Close your head, you nitwit!" snapped Dorffman as he again took a swipe at Griham. The latter scowled and moved to the other side of the table.

"Pinhead," Vlaatin muttered under his breath, casting a sideways glance at the retreating man. "You're a trigger-happy fool. Killing's a messy business, to be avoided whenever possible."

"Now we have to get rid of him somehow," their leader said, folding his arms and glaring at Daupple. "You had to go and make a snatch and get us into this fix, didn't you?!"

"Sorry, Boss!" Link's lookalike backed away a few steps; he didn't want to be on the receiving end of his leader's wrath any more than the other crook did. "Err… Say, I know a captain who takes his ship to the seas way south of here. They don't hit land for a couple months at least. We could dump the sap aboard and tell my friend the captain to do whatever he likes with him."

Not to be outdone, Griham burst forth with an idea of his own, but he still kept his distance. "What's wrong with a bullet through his brain? And then we just dump him in the river!"

This time Vlaatin wanted to give him a good sock in the kisser. "Bodies come up sometimes, numskull!"

"Enough!" roared Dorffman, with enough volume to make the others jump to some degree. "I'm going back to the party! You can bore me with your ideas later!"

With that, the large man stalked from the room. The other crooks glanced at each other; Vlaatin glowered at the other two and then hastened after his leader. Griham and Daupple departed a moment later, arguing between them as to the best way of disposing of their prisoner. Daupple was careful to take the ruined sandwich with him, wrapped back up in its paper so that it would not soil the inside of his pocket; he would dispose of it at his earliest possible convenience.

After the door slammed and the gangsters slid the bolt back into place, Link tried to rise from his mattress and groaned. A fresh, sharp ache made him catch his breath. He pressed at a spot on his chest and hissed; every inhalation, every movement sent another jolt of pain through him, like the myriad reflections of a prism. His eyes were wet and he'd almost decided to flop on his mattress again and never get up.

But through it all, his fuzzy mind told him to take account of what he'd done. Then he remembered. Reaching into the many layers he wore, he withdrew the pistol he'd taken from Dorffman's holster. It was a hefty thing, a forty-five caliber piece that looked as mean as the man who owned it. Handguns of that size and caliber were typically used by the military, but there were certainly some that found themselves in civilian possession.

His fingers trembling with both cold and fatigue, Link slid the magazine out, saw that it contained a full seven rounds of perfectly normal bullets, and slipped it back in again. He lifted it with both hands, doubting that he could even wield it properly. The niggling voice in his mind told him that it would be easier than ever to kill himself… All it would take was the bullet through his brain that Griham had been so keen on. He stared at the gun and turned it partway around as he grappled with the idea. He realized that he'd just be making it easier for the crooks to be rid of him, although they would still have to dispose of his body.

He laid the pistol on his mattress and covered it with one of the blankets. He wouldn't use it on himself, but as soon as he'd ended that argument, the thought of hanging himself again pushed itself brashly to the forefront of his mind. He could do it fairly easily; he had his ties in the valise and there were even some pipes exposed in the ceiling near the door to the little washroom. He grit his teeth as the images from his dream floated before his eyes. He could practically see a body dangling from the ceiling, but he knew it couldn't be his…yet.

He jerked up as the idea and the deep ache in his chest struck him like lightning from the heavens. He gasped for breath. Perhaps… Perhaps there was a way, one chance for him…if his mind wasn't just fooling him into thinking it was a viable plan. He staggered to his feet and reached for the valise, trying to make his breaths shallow enough that they didn't pain him so, but sucking in great gulps of air to satisfy his need. He had to work quickly! …Before Dorffman realized his piece was missing and came back to retrieve it.

~O~

Zelda drifted along the park pathways like a ghost of flesh and blood. She saw but two people during those hours she spent going round and round; a tramp was sleeping on a bench, his shivering form covered by newspapers, until a weary policeman on patrol made him get up and leave. She felt terrible for the bedraggled man with nowhere to go on Christmas Day and she went after him. She slipped some rupees into his hand, which wasn't even properly covered by a holey, fingerless glove; her hope was that he would use it to buy some warm food and she did not consider that he might spend it on drink.

Her mind was all but consumed with thoughts of Link. It was perhaps the thousandth time that she agonized over and wondered about his disappearance. Had he wanted to get away from her? Is that why he'd all but brushed her off when he left her at her door? And why was he in that awful bar with the other man who bore resemblance to him? Link never imbibed while in her presence, but what if he actually had gotten drunk? What if he could come back but didn't want to? No matter how she tried to expel those thoughts from her mind, they kept stealing back to her like a beetle scurrying for cover of darkness.

She considered everything she and Aryll had learned from the people they'd spoken with during their little investigation. Batreaux and Bo had given her some insight as to the problem that he'd seemingly been wrestling with, but still she didn't know for sure. She felt, however, that it had something to do with her. She'd rather thought that he cared for her, though he didn't say it with words. Doubts about whether he did or not buzzed about her like a cloud of gnats.

She shivered and glanced up at the sky and then down at her watch. No wonder it seemed as though the overcast sky was getting darker! She'd been in the park well over two hours! She took a minute to get her bearings and then headed back toward her car. She frowned when she saw the snow that had accumulated on the vehicle. She spent several minutes trying to brush it off as best she could and then she huddled inside with the heater on, trying to warm up her hands. She was nervous about driving out on the roads again, as she knew everything was slick, but she maintained a slow speed all the way home, arriving safely and without a scratch.

Hardly was she inside the door, than Aryll, her coat unbuttoned and scarf streaming out to the side, flew up to her. "There you are, Zellie! We were just about to go out and look for you!"

The elder girl's hand froze as she was tugging at her own scarf. Her heart trembled too. "Why? What's happened?"

There was a moistness about the other young lady's eyes, and a sort of charged excitement that could mean anything. "Telma called. She said…" Aryll paused to take a quick breath. "…They've found someone who might know where Link is!"

Zelda's heart gave a great leap and her own breath nearly stopped in her throat. She choked, coughed, and then gasped out, "Link! Oh, I must go right down there!" She felt tears prickling at her eyes but she forced them away. It was no time to give in to her feminine emotions!

"I'm going with you," Aryll declared. She began fastening the buttons on her coat but then realized she was doing it crookedly and started over.

"No, I'll go," said Gustaf as he strode toward them. Giselda and the elder Galens were with him. "You two should stay here. You too, Zelda. I don't want you running into danger."

Lester stepped forward and placed his wrinkled hand on his adopted daughter's shoulder. "He's right, Arrie. You should stay here with your mother and me."

Aryll wavered, but Zelda remained firm. "I'm not staying here," said the elder girl, her eyes snapping up to meet her father's. "Don't try to talk me out of it, Dad! It's no use. If they know where Link is, I have to be there!"

He regarded her fiercely determined expression and saw that anything short of force would be wasted on her. His mouth scrunched downward and he rumbled, "All right, sweetie. But no taking chances, understand?" He patted his coat pocket, where he'd placed his revolver, just in case.

"Come on!" she begged him. "We have to hurry!"

She pressed into his hands the large topcoat which was his and rocked on her heels as she waited for him to don it. He gave his wife a quick peck and then turned to the door, where his daughter already waited.

"We'll call as soon as we know," Zelda promised, glancing at Aryll.

Her friend's eyes were wet, her mouth a crinkled frown as she lifted her hand in farewell. Then the door closed behind them and Zelda and her father were outside. They hastened toward the car that she'd arrived in just minutes before and this time Gustaf slid in behind the wheel, while she nearly jumped onto the other side of the front seat.

During the ride into the city and downtown, she bit her tongue several times to stop herself from nagging her father to drive faster through the snow. The trip seemed to her to take twenty times longer than it should have, but in reality it was only about double the time it would take in good weather. She kept her hands knotted on her lap and kept glancing out the window so she'd know where they were.

Her mind was awhirl with tumultuous thoughts that leaped one atop the other like the players in a game of football. Her heart was trembling in her chest, the blood pounded past her ears, and her breaths came quickly. Did she even dare hope? What if there was only disappointment in store for her? But, despite all her worst thoughts, she clenched her hands and prayed that everything would turn out all right. She had to remind herself to take deep breaths and try to keep calm.

Hardly a word passed between the father and daughter during that whole time. When they were nearing the destination, Gustaf asked if they were on the right street a couple of times. The first time they were on course, but the next time she told him he needed to be one street over.

"There it is!" she cried, and pointed to the place that still had lights burning in its windows, though they weren't as bright as most other evenings.

She was out of the car the moment her father had pulled up to the curb. He called after her to wait, but she didn't stop as she darted for the door and tried the knob. It was locked. She rapped on it and looked in through the window to the side. Two customers were leaning over the bar inside, but no one was behind it. Then Gustaf came up behind her and he pounded on the door again. They waited for a few moments, while she peeked through the window again and her father glanced around.

"There's Telma!" she exclaimed as she saw the woman emerge from the back room.

The proprietress hastened toward the front door, opened it a crack, and when she saw the young lady, she widened the gap. "Miss Harkinian, I'm glad you're here. We've run into a bit of a problem…" She ushered her inside, but hesitated when she saw the gentleman. "And who might you be, mister?"

"Oh, Telma, this is my father," Zelda said quickly. "Please, what did you find out?"

The redheaded woman looked him over briefly and then turned and locked the door again. She gestured to the back room and headed in that direction. They followed her, with Zelda glancing at the two patrons slumped over the bar.

"Don't worry about them," Telma told her. "They're harmless. Just as well off here as stumbling around on the street."

"I'm surprised you were open today," said Gustaf.

She shrugged. "Might as well be. Most of my friends come in here anyway, so why not?" She paused as they reached the curtain leading to the back. "I'll tell you right now, we have a fellow back here who says he knows about the gang we're looking for. But now he wants five hundred rupees before he'll talk. He's a stoolie, a sleazy sort who's always getting in the way asking for handouts, or poking his nose where it don't belong in hopes of getting something to use for blackmail. I don't like to ask this of you, but I don't keep much money here as a rule…and the others don't have enough even if we pooled together. Would you be willing to put it up?"

"Oh, we'll pay! Of course!" Zelda exclaimed anxiously. "Whatever it takes!"

Telma frowned, her brows lowering. "Don't let him know that, honey. He'll really hold you up if he thinks he can get away with it. Just let us handle the negotiations, you understand?"

The young lady nodded quickly, and then both she and her father followed Telma into the back room.

This chapter and the next were originally going to be one, but after writing most of it, I realized it was too much for one chapter. I don't want to subject you all to 13,000+ words all in one go, haha!

01-13-2020 ~ Published (6,153 words)