The knife pressed against her skin, leaving a searing pain behind as it sliced down her right cheek. It was punishment for breaking her silence to call her well-dressed captor a molly girl. Tay winced in pain but otherwise refused to make any sign that she'd been hurt. Screaming, yelling, tears had never solved anything before and so she did what she had always done, she closed herself off from the world and let her troubled mind take control.
"Oh, cara, I'm afraid you'll have a second scar to match the first now."
The man wiped her blood off the edge of his knife before running his fingers over the long healed scar on her left cheek. Spot had often done the same thing but there had always been a touch of regret in his eyes when he traced that particular scar. Spot's eyes were often cold but he had nothing on the man standing across from her. His eyes were dark and dead. Tay found herself unable to meet them for much longer than a glance or two.
"Did he do that to you?"
The man wore his hat tipped to one side which caused half of his face to be hidden in shadow but Tay didn't need to see him as a whole person. Instead she concentrated on small things, the tip of his highly polished dress shoe, the pale almost translucent quality of his hands, the matchstick he held in the corner of his mouth.
"Is that how he cares for you, bambolina?"
She was being used as a pawn in a game she didn't understand. Tay struggled to keep a neutral face but her heart was broken when the man mentioned Spot. Where was he? Did he know where she was? Tay certainly had no idea. After being forced to leave her home behind she'd been led to a nearby hansom cab and driven over the bridge to Manhattan. Once there, she'd been forced to keep up through a maze of side streets and back alleys until she wasn't even sure she was in Manhattan anymore. She was positive it wasn't Brooklyn and she tried to keep that in mind as she thought about Spot's whereabouts. The man was clearly intelligent enough to know that staying in Brooklyn would have been foolish.
"That was a question, cara. One which requires an answer." The man twisted one hand up in her hair and forced Tay's chin up, twisting her hair harder at every attempt Tay made to look elsewhere until she was finally forced to meet his eyes.
"No," Tay lied quietly.
"Interesting." The man drew his hand back out of her hair, pausing briefly to push a few locks out of her eyes. Before Tay could even think of the similarity between Spot and this man his fist shot out and hit her hard in the stomach, causing Tay to fall to the ground, doubled over in pain and gasping for air.
"I don't like liars." He prodded her with the toe of his shoe. "You see, I have heard all about you, bambolina. Liam Conlon's conquests are infamous but even more well-known is his treatment of the one girl he prizes above all others. So do not lie to me. It will not end well for you."
"Then you should know keeping me here won't get you what you want," Tay managed to tell him.
"I disagree. In fact, I have already begun to get what I want." The truth was her captor had become increasingly violent in the past few days (or had it been longer?) and Tay was led to believe things weren't going as well as the man claimed.
Antonio picked her up off the floor and deposited her onto the nearby chair with little concern for her injuries. The truth was Tay wasn't much bothered by the pain. She'd been punched before and pain had almost become second nature. However, something inside her snapped when Antonio yanked her arm onto the table and the man drew a needle from his pocket. Tay felt her stomach drop and she began to try everything in her power to get free. The battle was short and left Tay defeated, nursing several new bruises.
"When he kills you, I hope you go slow," she told the man as he poised the needle above her skin. There was a slight pinch and everything became distorted and cloudy. The stairs creaked under her as she was half dragged, half led up into a room above the dark, dank basement where she'd been held.
Tay was dazzled by the sunlight in the room after the flickering candle that had been her only source of light in the basement. She was surprised to see an older woman standing there although the woman didn't look at all surprised to see her.
The man spoke a few words in a language Tay couldn't understand and left the room with Antonio. The woman took a bit of cotton and began dabbing at Tay's cheek, ignoring Tay's futile attempts to push her away. She was humiliated and stunned when the woman began to remove her torn, bloody clothing and replaced it with a dress that was scratchy and ill-fitting.
Tay attempted to take note of her surroundings but the room was little more than average. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other place she'd been in. She did notice the woman had the same dark eyes as her captor but there was a light in the woman's eyes that made Tay think she wasn't as dangerous as the man.
As the woman finished buttoning her dress Tay clumsily reached for the woman's hand and concentrated all her effort on her speech. "Help me."
The woman pulled her hand away but patted Tay lightly on her cheek and spoke in the same language the man had used earlier. The one that Tay didn't understand in the slightest.
Tay was thrown more off-kilter when the woman led her outside to where the man and Antonio waited in a nearby carriage. The effects of the drug made it impossible for her to keep track of where they were going and she didn't know the streets of Manhattan well enough to figure out where they were headed.
Her head spun as the carriage stopped in front of a building crowded with people. It wasn't until she heard the high-pitched whistle that she realized she'd been brought to a train station. Antonio yanked her down out of the carriage, causing Tay to stumble and land in the dust on the street.
"Oaf! Pick her up before anyone notices."
There was so much noise and so many people that Tay began to feel sick to her stomach. She found herself focusing on the sun glinting off the face of a brass clock as Antonio hooked her arm through his and they made their way through the crowd. Antonio shoved her down onto a bench in what Tay assumed was the main terminal and pressed a carnation into her hand before taking off. A carnation. The death flower or so her mother had always told her. Were they going to kill her? Tay looked down at her boots but they seemed to be filled with clay and wouldn't respond to her attempts to try and run.
"Tay?" A familiar face came into view but it was a minute before Tay could focus on the kind, hazel eyes looking at her inquisitively.
"Cowboy?" The name sounded odd on her lips but it was even stranger to see Jack Kelly standing in front of her. Was he part of this? What was happening? A thousand questions seemed to spin through her mind but she struggled to put any of them into words. She barely felt his hand on her chin as he turned her face back and forth. Jack's eyes grew worried and his eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
"What happened?" He held her bandaged hand in his and Tay flinched at the memory of the man holding her hand over the flame of the oil lamp until she had finally begged him to stop.
"Wouldn't eat," Tay explained quietly. Her words came out slurred and she felt like her head was stuffed with cotton.
"How many are there?" Jack asked, throwing Tay into confusion. He studied her carefully as Tay tried to make sense of his question. He let out a sigh. "They drugged you. Smart."
It was a rather obvious statement and Tay wondered if Jack was talking to her or to himself. The noise of the crowd around them was only making things more difficult for Tay as she fought to put a single thought into words.
"Where is Spot?"
Jack's eyes softened and Tay realized she'd never really considered how attractive Jack was. No wonder he was known for charming women of all ages as well as some men. Tay felt her eyes grow heavier by the minute and she tried her best to stay focused on Jack's face.
"He's here. He's with Race and David right now," Jack explained. He paused for a moment as Tay attempted to take a look around but the crowd swam before her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach again. She chose instead to cling to Jack's visage as it was the only lifeline she had in the moment.
"David? Is here?" Tay asked, growing more confused than ever. She couldn't picture David Jacobs as being a willing participant in whatever the hell it was that was going on.
"Do you know how many men Morelli has?" Jack asked quietly.
Tay shook her head slightly in confusion. "Is that his name? Morelli?" She looked up to see Jack nod once and she was grateful to finally be able to put a name to her captor's face. But the other question just caused her to become more perplexed. "I don't know about any men. Just that one."
She pointed to where the man called Antonio stood a few meters away, watching them both carefully out of the corner of his eye. When he noticed Tay pointing him out he began to approach the twosome, causing Tay to reach out and grasp at Jack's hand.
"Please, Jack, tell him...tell him-" Tay fought to try and find the words but she panicked as Antonio drew closer. There were so many things she wanted to say but she struggled with each and every word.
"He knows, kid," Jack told her as Antonio yanked her to her feet. The carnation she'd been holding fell to the ground and she noticed Jack pick it up before she lost sight of him in the crowd.
She leaned heavily on Antonio's arm and felt her feet drag beneath her as he forced her through the crowd. It wasn't until they had nearly reached the exit that she heard it. Two short notes, one high and one low. She knew that whistle, it was his whistle, meant for her. The sound nearly broke her heart and part of her wondered if she was just imagining things.
"Fuck!"
Race attempted to keep a neutral face as the table in front of him overturned and his glass of beer ended up in his lap. A couple of the patrons looked over but the murderous look in Spot's eyes as he glanced around the room made them soon realize that in Brooklyn it was best to mind one's own business.
Jack silently righted the table and took a seat as Race wiped spilled beer off the front of his shirt. It was probably best that David had remained back in Manhattan the past few days. With Spot's return to Brooklyn his volatile nature just came out in full force. It had been eight days since the meeting in Grand Central Station and Spot was becoming more unhinged by the hour.
"Well, we got proof of life, that's what you wanted, isn't it?" Jack asked as he drew a cigarette out of his pocket. Race knew the only one who could question Spot at that moment was Jack. Anyone else would have probably ended up sporting a black eye or worse.
"What I want, Kelly, is my fucking wife back," Spot answered scornfully. Jack just shrugged and Race admired his ability to keep calm despite the fact that Spot had clearly gone off the rails. But that was always Jack's way of doing things. A kid in the Refuge? He'd get them out. Running from the bulls? They'd never catch him. He had a remarkable way of needling other people to the point of exasperation while keeping his own feelings contained.
It had been decided that when Tay did show up that Jack would be the one to go and see her thanks to that calm nature of his. In the meantime, it had taken all the strength Race possessed to keep Spot at bay and the truth was Race wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his own temper after hearing what had happened to Tay. She was like a younger sister to him and he'd never been able to sever his ties to her despite the many ups and downs during their friendship.
"Well, we know where they're hiding her now," Race pointed out hesitantly. The network of birds hadn't let them down, tailing the hansom cab to the edges of the one neighborhood in Manhattan that even Jack Kelly wouldn't enter willingly, Little Italy.
"Fucking rat in a hole," Spot muttered as he dug the tip of his knife into the table. Race was reasonably sure that, if given the chance, Spot would have liked to use that knife to cut Morelli's throat. The problem was that even the once untouchable King of Brooklyn was hesitant to start a gang war in Little Italy.
"He's smart," Jack commented. "Drugging her, keeping her in the dark about his name, hiding out in that neighborhood."
"Why don't you go work for him, then?" Spot asked rudely. "You served your purpose, Kelly. There's the door. Feel free to use it."
Jack and Race were both silent as neither one wanted to point out the obvious. Spot Conlon needed help. That was just something that both knew would never be admitted out loud. But that was nothing new.
"I should have just put a bullet in his head right there," Spot said as he finished the last of the whisky in his glass. The only thing that had prevented him from doing just that was Racetrack's plea for common sense and his pointing out that it wouldn't get Tay back if Spot was in jail for cold-blooded murder that just happened to occur in front of a huge crowd of people.
"What is it this guy wants?" Race asked with trepidation.
"Same thing everyone wants," Spot told him. "Power. He's another one of these fucking Italians that want to take over. Fat chance."
"Just saying, if it was my girl…" Jack let his words trail off as Spot shot daggers at him.
"I think we all got a pretty good idea of what you do in tough situations, Kelly," Spot answered icily.
"Jack, do me a favor and get me another beer?" Race asked, trying his best to sound good-natured. The two former leaders sat staring one another down until Jack finally shook himself and headed towards the bar. Race turned to Spot, "He's doing his best."
"It was his goddamn territory, how can he not know how to get to this piece of shit?"
"He gave us a couple connections-" Race began but Spot soon cut him off.
"Real fucking useful, one kid is dead and the other one ain't been heard from in two years."
"At least the game gave us some good information," Race pointed out. It had been a high stakes game, the kind that Race didn't try to get involved with anymore because of Emily and Rose. But they'd managed to at least get a name and a location, so it was worth it in Race's mind.
Spot folded his knife and stuck it back in his pocket before fiddling with the glass in front of him. Race was surprised as Spot was not one for nervous gestures. But as Race looked at the younger boy he saw that same sliver of apprehension that had been on his face in Midtown.
"What if-what if he's hurting her?" Spot asked in a voice that revealed how worried he truly was. Race knew the kind of hurting Spot was talking about was not the same as what he used to inflict on Tay himself.
Before Race could answer, Jack returned empty-handed to the table with a younger looking kid. Race was about to ask about the missing beer but the words died on his lips as he saw the concerned look on Jack's face. The kid with him held his hat in his hand, twisting it back and forth nervously and looking like he would have rather been anyplace else on the planet.
"Spot," Jack began. "Something's happened."
Her bare feet slapped against the pavement as she ran down the street without a single glance backward. She couldn't afford to look backward and so she kept her eyes straight ahead, without looking to the right or left. Her lungs burned and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she pushed her body to the breaking point. She was completely lost but her fear continued to drive her forward into the dark.
The lights of Manhattan were too bright and the sky became a blur as she ran, unable to pinpoint any of the stars she normally used to guide her. Over the water in Brooklyn it had been so different. Would she ever see Brooklyn again? She pressed her knuckles to her lips in an effort to keep back the scream that threatened to escape. She had hit that woman so hard. Another black mark on her soul. She hadn't even had time to check to see if the woman was still breathing before she made a run for it.
She passed the darkened windows of stores, grocers, tailors, and banks until her legs finally gave out and she had to stop. Her head was spinning and she could barely catch her breath but she knew he'd be after her. She tried the handle of every door she passed but none yielded. She had never been that far from home but she at least knew she was in Manhattan. Her time in that borough had been limited but she remembered Greeley Square where they'd finally won the strike. The problem was she had no idea how to get from wherever the hell she was to Greeley Square and she didn't have time to waste asking around.
In her state, every man she passed was Morelli and she jumped at the slightest touch as she passed those who were out for an evening stroll or returning home from a day's work. At the end of the street she finally saw a promising sight. She willed herself to run the last half a block toward a group of newsies.
There was a group of four newsies of varying ages but all sporting the dark hair and eyes that gave them away as Italian. The oldest was the first to notice her and seeing her disheveled state he began to speak to her rapidly in a foreign language. He held a paper out to her as he chattered on.
"No," Tay told him. "English? Please?"
One of the smaller boys stepped forward. "Si, yes, I speak English."
She decided to forego stating the obvious, that she needed help and wasted no time on small talk. "Greeley Square? Do you know how to get there?"
The boy frowned and repeated her request to the others but they all shrugged. Tay felt her heart drop as they all looked at her quizzically. She closed her eyes tight and tried to force herself to think clearly. Did she know any other place in Manhattan? There had to be something she could tell them that they would recognize.
She put her hands over her eyes and tried like hell not to cry. There wasn't time for tears. How could she get them to understand? She didn't speak Italian and she didn't even know where the hell she was. It was her last chance. Her only chance.
"The lodging house?" she asked but received the same blank looks. "Jack Kelly? Racetrack Higgins?"
At the sound of Jack's name the younger boy brightened. "Si, I know this Jack Kelly."
"Will you take me to him? Please?" Tay begged but the boy just continued to frown. She had been a newsie, she knew what made them tick. But the problem was she had nothing to offer as the only thing she had was the torn dress she was wearing. "I can't pay you, but if you take me to him, I'll make sure you get your money."
"No promises," the boy told her.
There was no way she could get to Jack or back to Brooklyn on her own so she decided to try it another way.
"Spot Conlon?" Tay asked and saw the instant light of recognition in the boy's eyes. If she hadn't been scared out of her mind, she might have been relieved that Spot's name carried weight even in the far off borough she was in.
"I know this Spot Conlon," the boy said warily. He muttered something over his shoulder to the group of boys who instantly began to shift uncomfortably and give each other the side-eye. The boy turned back toward Tay. "You know Spot Conlon?"
"Yes, I know him. If you take me to Jack Kelly, I'll get a message to Spot and he'll pay you."
The boy didn't seem convinced but the older boy spoke to him and he handed over the stack of papers he had been holding. Tay bit her lip as she struggled against grabbing the kid and shaking him violently. When he finally began to saunter down the street Tay hurried her own steps in an effort to press upon him the urgency of his mission but the kid was in no rush.
"Please, hurry," Tay finally implored. "If you hurry, he'll pay you more."
The truth was she didn't even know if Spot would pay for her. Why would he? Hadn't he told her before that she was more trouble than she was worth? Maybe she could get Jack to spare a few pennies for the kid. She shivered at the thought that she might never get back to Spot. She walked silently alongside the kid and hoped like hell that he could bring her to safety.
Fear was practically an unknown emotion for Spot Conlon but the past month had made him quite familiar with the sensation. It began when he had walked into that disheveled apartment and found the key, his key that he'd given to her, on the floor with no sign of Tay. He hadn't been himself since that day and in the many that followed he'd felt his grip on reality begin to slip. But none of those days compared to the trepidation he felt as he followed Kloppman up the stairs to the sick ward.
"Snipeshooter found her on the stoop this morning," the old man explained. "I wouldn't normally allow a girl into the ward but she's in no condition to be moved."
"Right," Spot said and he realized his voice sounded strange, as if it was from some far away place.
"There's a young man here who we found with her. He refused to leave her side and just kept repeating your name over and over."
The boy in question stood just outside the door to the sick ward and began to chatter incessantly in Italian as Kloppman and Spot approached him. For some reason Spot's thoughts jumped to violence as he heard the boy speak. The fact that he'd brought Tay to safety completely escaped Spot as he reckoned with the idea that this kid had somehow been involved in her disappearance.
"Spot Conlon?" the boy asked nervously. He held out his hand but Spot didn't take it. "I bring her here. For you."
Spot looked the boy up and down and any other time he would have smirked at the boy's wide-eyed wonder as he greeted the former leader of Brooklyn but he had more important things on his mind.
"I bring her here," the boy repeated.
"So I heard," Spot answered.
"I bring so you…" the boy stammered as he tugged his cap off his head and twisted it in his hands.
"Spit it out, kid."
"She says you pay me if I bring her," the boy told him as he focused on the ground at his feet.
"I see," Spot told him with a hint of a smile. Typical. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. He tugged two bills loose and held them out. "D'you eat yet?"
The kid shook his head but his eyes didn't leave the money that Spot held out to him. Spot thought quickly for a moment and added two more bills to what he held in his hand. "Look at me, kid."
He waited until the kid met his eyes. "You never saw her, you understand?"
The boy nodded silently and Spot held tight to the bills until the kid met his eyes again. "I hear that you've been talking about her and you're gonna be real sorry, you understand? You never saw her. Make sure you tell your friends the same thing. Now go get something to eat."
Spot allowed the kid to take the money from his hand before turning back to where Kloppman stood outside the closed door to the sick ward. Spot felt his heartbeat quicken and he tried to keep up his usual cold facade as the door opened, revealing a small room lined with bunks. His heart jumped up into his throat as he finally saw her in the bed across from the door.
"Anna."
The name sprung from his lips unconsciously and he found himself quickly crossing the room to stand alongside her bed. Kloppman had provided clean linens and a nightshirt which Spot was grateful for but he couldn't express it at that moment. He only had eyes for Tay.
"I'm afraid she has yet to wake up," Kloppman explained. "She's developed a fever which has made things a bit more difficult."
She was right there in front of him and yet Spot felt like a coward. Every fiber of his being wanted to touch her, to hold her, to know that she really was there with him but he found that he couldn't do anything except stand there staring at her. He clenched his fists and straightened his fingers in annoyance.
"Has-has she seen a doctor?" Spot asked. "If not, I'll pay for one."
"I believe we can handle a fever," Kloppman told him.
"I want her to see a doctor," Spot answered. He needed more information. He needed to know if his worst fears would be confirmed. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. Spot struggled with emotions he hadn't felt in years and he cursed himself for giving in to those feelings.
"I'll go see what can be done." He heard Kloppman shut the door, leaving Spot alone with Tay.
The cut he'd seen on her cheek at the train station was healed but there were other cuts and bruises on her face that looked more recent. He looked down at the bandage on her hand and the grim memory of what she'd told Jack about not eating came to mind. She had always been thin but she'd grown thin to the point that he could see her collar bones sticking out from under the nightshirt she wore. Spot heard an ugly sob break the silence in the room and realized that the sound had come from him. He knelt by the side of her bed and leaned against it. His tears were ragged and harsh and he hated himself for crying. He found himself gingerly picking up her hand and lacing his fingers in hers.
"I'm sorry, Anna."
Author's Note: Whew, that was...well...it was something, I guess. Anyway, I hope no one minds falling down the rabbit hole. I wasn't really sure where the story was going so my apologies that it went off the rails (like Spot...lol). Thank you for reading and as always reviews are always welcome and appreciated!