Chapter 50) Small List of Simple Demands

.-.-.

Tommy Shelby had always considered himself as different. What his mother had labeled as unmanageable and his father as disrespectful, he simply considered as different. Unlike his parents, he was a quick thinker, keen on solving problems in the most productive way. Yes, he did inherit his father's taste for aggression and could lose himself in his own thoughts, like his mum. But there was something different about him, something that angered his father and fed his mother's depression.

Before France, Tommy Shelby never thought being different was a bad thing for him. Before France, it had made him unique and well respected. He'd been infamous for keeping his gang out of the copper's hands by bending all the rights and rules in his favour. He'd been praised by the lower class and feared by the aristocrats.

When he lost his voice he truly became different, outlawed by society. It was degrading to be ignored during social events. Even worse was the ridicule that came along as he was unable to follow the social conducts.

Although no-one in Small Heath was foolish enough to forget his last name and status, many stopped taking him seriously. Sure, when held at gunpoint he would still strike fear, but he could no longer make demands on his own.

It was degrading yet the painful truth; The Tommy Shelby could no longer party in everyday life, not without the help of a young woman.

It had made him unpredictable, reckless and completely self-centred when he promised Aunt Polly to become Arthur's right hand. Oblivious for all possible errors in his plan, he'd risked it all simply because he wanted - no needed- to succeed.

Due to his relentlessness, his younger brother disappeared like a thief in the night to find his lover and his unborn child. Polly had been hospitalised and would be forced to live with burn marks for the rest of her life. Two enemies had been demolished, along with innocent casualties, no doubt.

And the woman he claimed to care for and protect was making a deal with the she-devil while he powerlessly had to wait outside, as well as being glared and spat at by the Lee's.

Dusk had set when Zilpha's door reopened and the two women stepped out.

"Tonight we shall celebrate the rebirth of our ties with the Shelby clan!" Zilpha thundered, "We become blood brothers and sisters!"

The previously hostile atmosphere changed like the wind and all throughout, there was a buzzing excitement for the upcoming ritual.

Maria's features and expression was a complete contrast from the hyped energy that sparked up from every corner and tent.

"Tommy, what did I put in motion?" She whispered, pale as a ghost, "I think I made amends with Zilpha, but what's going to happen now?"

Tommy could not remember being thankful for being silenced, not once. But right now, he found it a blessing in disguise because he honestly did not have the heart to tell Holy Mary that she was going to bleed for a second time.

His dark expression and lack of response only fueled Maria's panic; "Tommy, what in God's name is going to happen? Is Zilpha a witch?"

Stiffly, he shook his head, which was the truth, but not the whole truth. Granted, Zilpha was no witch, but the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Her mother, Trurits Lee, was a legendary occultist, infamous for her curses and bloody sacrifices. When her first and only son got murdered, she'd ordered her clan to sacrifice half their livestock. His murderer died three weeks later, due to a severe infection. He'd been bitten by a large dog. Some claimed it was rabies, but the stories were that the dog had never hurt a fly in his life. The large beast simply snapped, as if he'd been pricked with a needle. It had managed to pull loose from its chains and tried to bite the man's face off.

Of course all gypsy families were haunted by old fishwives tales, but the Lee's had always been proud of the fear their claimed magic struck the gorgers.

"Come child," Zilpha chanted from the crowd and stepped forwards to reach for Maria's wrist, "we need to make you ready for tonight's sacrament," for a moment she turned her attention to Tommy and leaned in so only he was able to hear her speak: "I hope your voice is strong minded and fearless, because it's not every day a Christian sweetheart is going to bleed. Or receive a taste of the all Seeing Eye," the gypsy queen motioned back towards Maria, "tonight you might see what you call angels. Or demons, who knows…"

And with that, Zilpha's bony fingers clasped around Maria's wrist like a bear trap and pulled her into a sea of chanting, hyped up gypsy women.

There was no chance of stopping the upcoming blood sacrifice, if Tommy would try to intervene, it would be an absolute lack of respect. It was rare that a gorger was held worthy enough to be present, let alone part of any of their spiritual rituals. If he was foolish enough to step in, blood would spill and it would be his, possibly theirs. And it would be a lot, presumably enough for both to bleed out. Disrespecting the Lee's customs stood fairly close in line with murder.

So, in order to keep both of them alive, Tommy had to stand on the sideline while a pagan feast was going to set the night on fire.

.-.-.

Maria was being pushed and pulled along by a horde of gypsy women who spoke in loud, foreigners tongues. She was seated in the middle of a caravan, similar to Zilpha's. Through the smoke curtain of myrrh and sage Maria was unable to detect the gypsy queen. Strangely, the absence of Zilpha frightened her. Granted, the woman had strangled her and the fire in her eyes could make a grown man cry. But Maria had felt a sense of understanding and respect from Zilpha's side.

The opposite of what she could read in the heated faces from the other women. One even spat on Maria's bare feet while orders were being thrown back and forth.

As they ordered, Maria was being pushed and shoved, forced to show her teeth and her length was being measured from head to toe.

"Wait, no!" She exclaimed helplessly when one of the women started to undo the buttons of her dress. When she tried to keep her bra covered, her hands were slapped away and soon she found herself naked and shivering while the group of women circled around her like a pack of vultures.

She was being inspected, discussed with a lot of tsking and snorting then eventually dunked down in a lukewarm bath that smelled of unfamiliar herbs and flowers.

Colorful powders were being added and blown on her face, until she sneezed and her eyes teared up.

Forced to endure a rough bathing session, her skin got scrubbed red and her hair was being yanked out when one of the women combed it.

The moment her clothes came off, it was pretty clear to Maria that her pleads and struggling were useless. So instead of fighting, it she underwent the cruel treatment with her eyes fixed on the wooded edge of the tube while she bit on the inside of her cheeks.

She was no longer scared; no she was astounded by the rudeness of the women. She was used to being treated like a thing, by men. Not by women, by equals.

But apparently her gorger blood was too less for most of these women and it infuriated her.

When her cleansing ended, she was rapidly pushed and pulled into a long, white dress made from cotton. A hemp rope was tied around her waist to keep the oversized fabric in shape.

She was then held in a headlock while a sour faced gypsy drew kohl around her eyes and splashed strongly scented perfume in her face.

The sour-faced woman gave a last bark which was the cue for all of them to leave the caravan. The door swung shut but left unlocked, still with the prospect of facing a hyper alert mob of Lee's, Maria remained where she was. Alone.

Tension blossomed inside her chest and it did not take long to sprout to her limbs, her stomach and her mind. Her previous time of being locked up inside a dim small space while death and torture lingered, gnawed on her rationality. Horrible thoughts clouded her brain, filling up her head with the smoke of myrrh until fear turned her last bit of common sense into insanity.

She was going to die; it was inevitable and crawling up on her. Soon it would curl its bony fingers around her neck and squeeze the life out of her and the last thing she was going to see were those smoldering kohl rimmed eyes of Zilpha Lee.

.-.-.

Tommy did not expect to be fending off a wild cat when he was granted a brief moment with his speaker.

Apparently, Zilpha Lee did have a small heart behind that black hole inside her chest and ordered him to check on Maria, because it had been awfully quiet in her caravan.

Soldier's reflexes prevented his head from being bashed in by a cast iron tea pot.

The thing, heavy as lead, dropped down on the wooden floor with a loud bang and Tommy had to physically force Maria back into the caravan.

"I want to go home!" Maria cried out, clawing at him when he shut the door, "I did not sign up for this, I'm not willing to be butchered by this wicked lot!"

It had been there for a while, rage. Up until yesterday, Maria had always been indoctrinated, meek and able to swallow all the venom her life was given.

But that last coating of her strict upbringing and passive demeanor peeled off right in front of his eyes.

"This is all your fault, you thick headed bastard!" Maria's rage fueled through gritted teeth, "fuck you and your family, if you give a damn about me then you'll take me home!" Her face was red with suppressed rage and she snapped when Tommy solemnly shook his head.

Tommy dodged when her white knuckled fists swung at him. It wasn't hard to overpower her, but it was very inconvenient because he needed both arms to restrain her. Which made it impossible to communicate.

While Maria cried out bloody murder, Tommy threw his weight forward and shoved her against the boarded wall of the caravan. Before she could successfully knee him in the groin, he kicked her feet apart and shoved his forearm down on her throat. It wasn't his most elegant way of dealing with a woman's grudge, but they were running out of time.

He could feel her swallow and her usual doe-eyes were narrowed and shooting daggers at him.

L-i-s-t-e-n, Tommy finger spelled which earned him a scoff and her spitting near his feet, l-i-s-t-e-n, he spelled again urgently as he nudged her chin up with his elbow.

Her rage seemed to simmer down a bit; his expression must have revealed some of the upcoming dread.

P-l-e-a-s-e-l-i-s-t-e-n-t-o-me, he spelled and released her when he felt her muscles ease, tonight you will be the main guest of Zilpha's ceremony. It will involve what you will assume devilish elements and you will need to bleed. Again, Tommy stated guilt ridden as he watched how the last bit of Maria's rage pulverised and altered into fear.

But not a lot, Tommy continued, taking her hands and running his index fingers over her lifeline, and if you can't cut yourself, I can do it for you, he promised.

Maria stared at the palms of her raised hands and swallowed thickly; "and what if I refuse?"

Tommy locked his jaw and let out a long, deep sigh; that will be the worst form of disrespect; he hoped she remembered how much the Lee's valued honour.

"If I refuse, they will kill me won't they?" Maria mapped out, "just me, or will your fate be sealed as well?"

I don't know, Tommy answered grim, blood is thick but you are mine and if you spit on their beliefs, I will be to blame for bringing a gorger into the heart of their sodality.

"Will I be selling my soul?" Maria questioned matter-of-factly, "Will the ritual in any way make me violate my relationship with God?"

Tommy shook his head, knowing that his aunt Pol underwent the same ritual as a child and was still welcome in their local church.

"Then I'll do whatever it takes to gain Zilpha's approval," Maria spoke tonelessly. Her eyes fluttered up meeting his, "tell me what I need to know."

They will speak Romani, some might speak in tongues. Don't make any eye contact; do not speak unless spoken to. The ritual requires you to eat some dried mushrooms, take no more than one; Tommy grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. This was utter madness; she was going to endure a three to eight hour ride of terrible hallucinations. When he'd been a stupid teenage rascal, he'd once nibbled on some of the Lee boy's shrooms. Let's say he had his fair share of seeing with the all Seeing Eye and that had been the first and only time, for good reasons.

Just one, Tommy pressed and hoped she took it to heart.

"If this is over and we survived, I want you to take me to church so I can console with a priest. And I want you to repent for being this egocentric relentless sinner that you are. And if we make it home safe, I want you to pay for the most expensive room in the bath house so I can scrub off all the mud and blood you've tried to choke me with."

Tommy lowered his head in shame and nodded slowly, memorizing her small list of demands.

"And I want chickens, a small clutch. At Charlie's yard."

Her strange last wish made Tommy's head cock back up and he frowned, because surely he must have misheard her.

"Chickens," she repeated, "because that's all I ever wanted, animals. A farm life. A simple life."

.-.-.

A/N: initially I planned for Tommy to have a meeting with Zilpha and quickly continue with the storyline. But I found myself lacking motivation to write that, it wasn't working. So I had this little intervention with myself about how writing should be fun and not an obligation and tada, this upcoming bloody ritual was born.

Thank you all for your wonderful comments, I did enjoy reading them, especially the ones hoping that Zilpha was going to marry Maria off to Tommy. That idea honestly did cross my mind!

Xoxox Nukyster