Chapter 61

The library smelled of mothballs and old paper. It smelled faintly of lemony detergent and wood polisher. It smelled of stale sweat and heavy perfumes being used to cover said sweat. Admist these scents was one of lavender oil. The same that had traced Edward's face this morning.

That could only mean one thing: she was still here.

Oswald straightened. His cane clacked rhythmically against the tile floor as he crossed the hall. Icy-blue eyes scanned the area, searching for platinum hair. Another clue left on Ed's person: right after his little, giggle-framed announcement, he'd quickly shrugged off his coat. There, in the golden light of morning, a single strand of hair had shone near the buttons. When Ed had turned his back, Oswald had pocketed the hair. Memorized it before tossing it in the fire.

No platinum could be found here yet. There were nothing but muted colors as far as the eye could see. Aside from the wan light streaming from the windows, the place was home to dark browns and dull greens. The leather spines of books were faded as they sat on the shelves, forgotten by all. The lamps looked dusty from dissuse, and the armchairs resembled something that could be found in a museum. What few portraits there were, nothing but cheap copies of fine masterpieces, had paled from exposure to light. It was a sad, desolate little place. Just the right location to sniff out a home-wrecker.

At last, a flash of blonde! Like the sun coyly showing its face, only to quickly cower behind a cloud again. Smirking triumphantly, Oswald hurried his pace. Taking a few turns, he followed the bright shadow. As if to encourage him, the scent of lavender grew heavier with every step he took. Before long, he stood in a staff-only area. It was lined with rusting steel cabinets rather than old shelves, and the place smelled of neglect underneath the powerful cleaning products. As a side-note, Oswald decided that he would never bring Ruby here. If she ran out of reading material, he'd buy her a bookshop before sending her here.

Ah, there she was. Seated behind a little desk, nose buried in some documents, was the infamous Isabella. Dressed in a light blue dress with a black turtleneck underneath, Isabella had skin that, annoyingly enough, reminded Oswald of Cobblair's: pale, but with a healthy, peachy hint to it. Her gleaming hair was piled high atop her head in an impeccable bun. Her makeup was simple and modest enough: a touch of eyeliner and a dash of dark pink lipstick. But when the clacking of his cane caused her to look up, he felt a chill down his spine. Indeed, Isabella looked exactly as Kringle had; he had seen enough pictures of the dead woman in the papers to remember her features. This woman...it was as though she'd risen from the grave to steal Ed away. Scary thought. But then again, Oswald had faced dead people before, and he was still standing.

"Oh, Mr. Mayor." Isabella scrambled out from behind her desk. Stood before him with a little bow. "Um, can I help you with something?"

Go jump off a cliff, Oswald wanted to say. Instead, he forced a smile and said, "Hello. Yes, actually, I believe you can. I am attending the Founder's Dinner this evening, and I wanted to brush up on history of Gotham's first families. My Chief of Staff suggested I come here." Adding just the right amount of mischievous playfulness in his smile, Oswald leaned his head forward. As though they were two schoolgirls sharing a juicy piece of gossip. "I think you might know him."

Isabella actually blushed. "Yes, I know Edward. We just met, but..." She sighed dreamily, wiping the faux smile from Oswald's pale lips. "Well, I feel I've known him my whole life."

Oswald recovered just in time. "How romantic!" He chirped.

"Oh!" Isabella slapped her hands on her cheeks in smiling embarrassment. "Listen to me blathering on...you wanted a book. Um..." Turning away, she began to rummage through her desk's drawers, scanning the papers for an appropriate title. As she searched, Oswald noticed something. Specifically, little paper versions of the harlot and Ed holding hands. How perfectly childish. More than anything he wanted to take those paper people and toss them in the gutter, but of course he couldn't. Still playing the role of friendly mayor, he said, "I'm so glad you appreciate Ed."

Isabella stared at him, perplexed, before her green eyes widened. Spinning around, she made a series of weird gasping sounds as she grabbed the paper people and shoved them in a book. Good. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

Now, it was time. While Isabella was still fluttered and more prone to negative stimuli. And to think, Oswald had maybe intended to cause such a reaction by saying that her first literary suggestion wasn't right! Oh, this was so much better! Trying to keep his excitement at bay, the mayor spoke. "Really, I should thank you for brightening Ed's spirits. He has been so down since he got out of Arkham." He shook his head sadly, as he had in front of the mirror for ten minutes this morning.

Isabella went still. Silent. Slowly, as if walking into a geyser field, she edged towards him. Her hands fluttered against her chest like pale, startled birds. "Edward was in Arkham?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. The fear was beginning to rise within her, a sharp stink susceptible only to true predators. Oswald relished in it, longing for more. He tried, instead, to look stunned and slightly ashamed. "You don't know?" Her blank, cow-like expression answered him.

Oswald gave a slight look of suspicion. "It was front-page news."

"I stick to books." Isabella answered. Swallowing, she asked, "Don't people typically go to Arkham...for murder?"

Oswald inhaled, then lowered his voice. "I make it a policy not to gossip about staff, but..." He mouthed, 'yes'. For a moment, he truly thought that the harlot would faint. All of the color drained from her blank face. Slowly, as if in a trance, she walked towards one of the cabinets. Oswald allowed himself a grin before following the woman. Coming up right behind her, he thrilled at her little jump when she turned. Ah, the fear. It was coming off her in waves now. Delicious. Oswald peered into her face, shaking his head in false amazement. "It's uncanny, how much you look like her."

Isabella looked more than a little uncomfortable at this point.

Oswald pushed a little farhter, unable to resist. "It's that...swan-like neck."

Isabella's hand clasped protectively around it. A hushed gasp rose from her lips. Bingo.

Oswald grinned. "Ed loves a neck!" He laughed beningly, with Isabella nervously joining him. And just like that, the trap had been sprung.

Ruby stood before the mirror. Her skin was too tight for her. The light above her head was too bright, letting everyone see what was on display. Granted, 'everyone' counted as Barbara, Tabitha, and the tailor. But boy did she still feel scrutinized. Forced into a strappy silver dress, she felt like a candy bar just begging to be unwrapped.

"Hmm." The tailor, Mrs. Sanchez, examined the dress with the utmost seriousness. Like a child with too much Play-Doh, she had spent the last two hours crafting every possible dress for Ruby to wear...and making a mess on the floor. She was a short, stout woman with frizzy gray hair and eyes as round and dark as Oreos. Her outfit was a bizarre mixture of wheat-yellows and pea-greens, with a pair of cherry-red glasses resting admist her curls. She looked like a fashion-obsessed Nanny McPhee, but if anyone in the room had a taste in clothing, it was her.

"You have lovely skin," Mrs. Sanchez said, "much like Miss Kean."

Barbara made a not-so-modest scoff as she sipped at her martini. "See, hon? That kind of flattery will only make me buy from you more!"

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"But unlike Miss Kean, you don't have very flattering hair." Mrs. Sanchez patted Ruby's savage curls. "Is this their natural color, or some hideous dye?"

"Natural." Ruby replied tersely.

"And the haircut? Who did this, some blind man with tweezers?" Mrs. Sanchez rolled her eyes. Ruby tensed. In truth, she had been cutting her own hair for years, often using kitchen scissors for the front and an electric razor for the back. But of course she wasn't going to tell this stingy woman, lest she never hear the end of it. Ignorant to her subject's thoughts, Mrs. Sanchez nodded. "Well, no matter. You look good in soft colors, I find. But best not overdo it, lest you look like an overgrown preeschooler."

"Thanks." Ruby answered coldly. Then, she turned to the two older women. "Why did I ask for your help again?"

"Because I've gone to big events like this," Barbara quipped with a smirk, "while the most you got was the party at the Sirens." She chuckled. "Fabulous, with an awesome finale, but nothing beats the Founder's Dinner. If you dress up like a queen, they'll think you're a peasant trying too hard. If you dress up too casually, then they'll kick you out and give your seat to the clown." She chuckled in her drink. "I'll admit, with the colors you're going for, Ruby, they might think you're the clown."

Ruby faltered. She had chosen very bright colors, everything from pink to pastel-blue. Far brighter than the more subdued tones that she usually wore. But there was nothing 'usual' about this event. She swallowed hard and reached into her nearby handbag. The three other women watched with passive interest until she revealed her discovery: a necklace of rainbow quartz, all jagged spikes of glittering hues. It was both frightening and beautiful.

Ruby watied a beat before speaking. "I need something that matches this."

"Why?" Tabitha, who had been flipping through a magazine for most of the encounter, glanced up with passive interest.

The first deputy mayor gave a small smile. She returned the necklace to the bag, determined not to lose it. In truth, she had chosen the rainbow quartz to be her gem of the evening because it symbolized hope and optimism. Hope for her and Oswald, and optimism for their shared career. Hope that both of their hearts, fractured by unrequited love, would find solace. Optimism that their friendship would endure. The rainbow quartz's hard texture (with a rating of 7 on the Mohs hardness scale) would further symbolize that final hope.

But despite their newly-found peace, Ruby could not share this information with the Sirens. They had done too much to her to warrant that sort of trust. Instead, she shrugged. "It just feels right."

"Hmm." Mrs. Sanchez said pensively. "Then, if you're that sure, I'd recommend this new cloth I just got from France. It's silk; very light, very breezy. But I think you'll like it for its nickname 'Mother of Pearl' silk."

Ruby quirked a brow.

The sun, now a fat red drop of glowing blood, sank further into the horizon. Edward stood nervously by the doorway, eyeing his watch. It was ten minutes to six. Isabella was due to arrive in about two hours. A mixture of excitement and dread churned through him like sludge. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out fine, that he was simply exaggerating, but he could not shake these feelings off. Feelings of terror. Of sorrow. Of repeating past mistakes.

But...no. He had to believe that things would work out. The only alternative would be to go against what came so naturally, to shut his heart off forever, to live out the rest of his days in sombre solitude. All over a fear that may have turned out irrational.

Swallowing hard, he turned around. He peeked through the front door's peephole, waiting for the car to roll in. That way, once Ruby and Oswald had left, then he could begin cooking and, hopefully, drown out his worries with loud radio music. Cooking, along with dissecting, had always soothed him. It was as though he could peel away his problems with the same ease that he could with dead flesh. Oh, if only. Otherwise, his three victims would have granted him a carefree existence.

A loud car horn made itself hear amongst the rose bushes. Edward jumped, torn from his thoughts, and prepared to call for Oswald. His friend, however, beat him to the punch by hurrying down the stairs. Dressed in the fine, coal-black suit that they'd chosen together, Oswald was the very definition of 'refined'. The deep blue tie shone admist the white and black, causing his eyes to shine like polished sapphires. A white rose, just picked from the garden, resided in his breast pocket. His hair, freshly washed, had been stylized in porcupine-like spikes that promised to pierce whomever got too close. He had even added some rouge to his cheeks to render his complexion less anemic. If Oswald hadn't already asked Ruby, Edward knew that the ladies would have set their eyes on him. At least, the ones with less conventional taste.

Oswald smirked at Edward. "I wish you a lovely evening."

"Oh, sure. Thanks." Edward gave his friend a nervous simper. "You, too. Just be sure to fill up on bread. Fancy food tends to be richer than most people are used to."

"I may pocket some, of that I am sure." Oswald reached into his pants' pockets, where his entire hands vanished. "It may not be the classiest way of behaving, but at least I shall have some breakfast on the morrow. I asked Ruby to bring a purse in order to assist me."

Edward chuckled. "I can imagine you two stealing bread together." His smile dimmed as he looked around. "Speaking of which, where is Ruby?"

Oswald turned to look at the grandfather clock just a few feet away. Bit his lip. "Hopefully, ready. I'd rather not be late. I heard that she actually went to Barbara for fashion advice." He shuddered. "Women. A breed beyond our comprehension."

Edward slowly smiled, realizing all too well what it meant. "She probably wants to look good for you."

Oswald scoffed. "Charming thought, Ed. But Ruby and I are just friends. She most likely wanted to ensure that she looked her best for the Founders." His words muffled the hesitant footsteps making their way down. Edward, however, heard them. When his eyes glimpsed past his friend, his smile widened. "Well, I'd say she succeeded."

The mayor turned around. Froze.

Standing on the last step was a stunning young woman in shimmering silk. Her hair, while retaining its natural color, had suddenly grown long enough to be gathered in a simple French braid. Pearls of different sizes had been woven into the curls, making her head gleam whenever it turned. Covering her entire collarbone was an ornate gathering of rainbow quartz. Each piece was long and sharp at the end, like celestial arrows. While mostly white in shade, they harbored glimmers of deep purple, mint-green, and canary-yellow deep in their cores. From her ears hung more of the same gemstone.

But the dress had to be the best part. It was almost medieval in design, with flowing, wing-like sleeves that reached her knees. The collar was V-shaped and plunging, stopping just high enough to keep Ruby's modesty intact. The dress went down to her feet, completely covering them. Like the gems, the fabric was a cauldron of hidden, bright colors. At first, it seemed to be pearl-white in color. But with every crease, every movement, shades of plum and crimson and cerulean burst forth.

Oswald could not speak. Even if he could, he was not sure what he could have said.

Ruby gave a wry smile with lips shiny with gloss. Walking down the final step, she adjust her handbag's strap. "Shall we go?"

Oswald merely nodded, his throat feeling as though he'd swallowed sand, and offered her his arm. Her smile widening, Ruby accepted it.

Edward watched them leave, smiling softly to himself. Wondering how much longer it would take. Then, the clock announced the new hour. Two more, and Isabella would be here. Once again, terror and joy waged battle in his heart.

The Founder's Dinner. A historical event, attended by only the most powerful and influential living under Gotham's sooty sky. A place where politics were discussed, issues were resolved, and alliances were forged. It was a place that the 'common folk', as the Founders called them, could only speak about in jittery whispers. The upper crusts, in turn, could only scarcely believe in such a godlike status. Until, of course, they recieved news of changed tides.

Tides that would change, in part, because of him. Oswald could hardly stop shaking at the prospect. Ruby, thinking that he'd simply been cold, had quickly wrapped her arms around him. He'd returned the embrace, blushing lightly, but hadn't stopped trembling. Until, of course, those massive doors opened. Great, slabs of bright red cherry-wood engraved with owls. Beyond those black-rimmed eyes was a room that should have existed only in folklore.

In the highest chamber of Gotham's tallest skyrise, so much so that the clouds seemed close enough to touch, was a luxurious, pentagonal chamber. Dark, polished wood made up the floors and walls, giving one the feeling of being within a great tree. The air, too, gave off a faint wooden aroma. Small holes had been carved into the walls; within them resided flickering candles. Above everyone's head was a chandelier constructed by the finest diamonds; ones that made Ruby's look like cheap immitations. In the center of the room was a long table clothed in white. A silver candelabra occupied each third of the (roughly) twenty-foot table, causing the fine china to gleam. Portraits of Gotham's founders hung proudly on the walls overlooking the table. In that way, it felt as though the founders themselves were watching.

Ruby, who hadn't let go of Oswald's arm since they'd left the car (making a mental note to beef up his meals even more), felt ice form within her stomach. She looked up at those faces admist the oils. Cruel, cunning faces peered back down at her, as if knowing what she was. The guests seemed no less hostile. Among them were politicians, heads of noble families, and owners of expansive networks. Amongst them, Ruby felt as out of place as a plucked chicken in a field of peacocks. She would have turned and run had the doors not slammed shut behind them.

Ruby turned to Oswald. He simply shrugged, as if to say, Just roll with it. Swallowing hard, she tightened her hold on his arm. He, in turn, covered her hand with his. Feeling a bit more steady, Ruby managed to join the walk towards their seats - each marked with a placement card.

From that point onward, time slipped away like sand in the wind. The meal would be a seven-course onslaught to the senses, each dish richer and more plentiful than the last. Oswald conversed with everyone around him, already making plans to further his popularity with the people. He subtly requested aid here and there, in turn promising wealth and, well, amethysts. He did have a cave-full, after all. Ruby, on the other hand, kept her eyes down and ate only a few bites from each course. In the end, it proved to be just enough; any more, and she'd have felt sick. While she would have wanted to prove her skills in politics, fear held her tongue in place. These weren't gossip-hungry folk in search of guidance. Nor were they slack-offs who were aware of the problems yet held no interest in solving them. These were the aristocrats of the aristocrats. The lords and ladies of Gotham. Their word was law, their knowledge was consuming. They had probably been discussing governing laws while she'd still been mending shirts and waxing tables. Best stay quiet, especially since her behavior would reflect Oswald.

The provided entertainment helped distract her from discomfort. First, there was a juggler. Then, a fire-eater. But it was the last one that gave Ruby pause. It was a young man, perhaps a couple of years younger than she, wearing a turban, a vest, and baggy pants. Beneath these Indian-inspired clothes was a skin as green and scaly as a jungle snake's. His belly and throat were beige, while his big eyes were yellow with slit pupils. He had no bodily hair, like a eunuch, and lacked ears.

Ruby felt the saliva in her throat dry. She recognized this man, even though he'd been one of the few inmates to vanish despite her best efforts to track him. He'd only been in Arkham briefly, but his case had been odd enough to occupy space in her mind. Mark Stone, also known as the 'Snake Boy'. In an attempt to find cures for skin cancers, scientists had fused Mark's DNA with that of a viper. The result had been a being who slept in tree branches and ate live rats. Ruby could still hear those small mammals' terrified squeals, muffled as they were dropped in his mouth. The muted crunch of their little skulls splintering between his teeth. The memory flooded her stomach with nausea, but Ruby looked away and took deep breaths.

Almost immediately, Oswald's hand found hers. "Ruby, what is it?"

Ruby shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

Oswald narrowed his eyes at her, then turned back to the Snake Boy. The scaly man had extracted a flute from behind the curtain, and was now playing sweet tunes. His turban began to jiggle. Then, a streak of black appeared within the white. Before everyone's stupefied eyes a serpent as black as petroleum emerged from the cloth, its beady eyes glinting in its diamond-shaped head. It swayed its head from side to side, intuned with the music, before slithering down to the floor. It began to move its limb-free body in tempo with the song, following Mark's steps. Man and snake were dancing together as the crowd laughed and cheered.

Oswald's lips became a thin line. He turned to one of the butlers, who were standing against the wall. Making a gesture to get one's attention, he soon had it. Once the man's face was close, Oswald leaned forward and hissed in his ear. "Give this reptilian performer a cheque of a thousand dollars in my name. Tell him, however, that I will annul the cheque if he is still in Gotham by morning."

The butler bowed. "Yes, sir." He retreated, leaving the two friends once again alone surrounded by people.

Oswald took in Ruby's expression. She had gone back to looking, her chinless face an expressionless mask. The mayor placed his hand on the back of Ruby's neck. The skin there was cool and soft. "You don't have to look." He whispered to her. She nodded without turning back. "Yes, I do." She swallowed. "I have to see what happens to people like me. To be forced to flee, or to do shameful entertainment like this."

Oswald's brow furrowed. "That won't be your fate."

Ruby let out a shaky sigh. "For now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ruby turned back to him, "the only thing standing between me and that," she pointed at Snake Boy, "is you. Without you to back me, I'd never have become first deputy mayor. I wouldn't have been able to stay at home after Master died." She swallowed. "I could go on fighting for you, killing for you, but that will never pay my debt. If it weren't for you, I'd be no better than the ones I smuggled out of the city." Ruby turned away. "That's just the way things are."

Before Oswald could say anything, there was a roar of applause. With some reluctance, Ruby joined. Mark had done what he'd been paid to do, probably just enough to pay for his dinner, and he'd done it well. She couldn't deny that. Mark gave a proud bow, not even realizing - or maybe not caring - that the people cheering just saw him as a well-trained monkey. A freakshow entertainment, less than them. Hell, less than the people who polished their shoes. With a large smile, he gathered his snake and departed the scene. There was a flash of green, and then nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Ruby rose. "I need a breather." Oswald quickly got up as well. He was Ruby's shadow as she reached the window. It was sealed, true, but still gave a magnificent view. Down below, the city glittered like a thousand gems swimming in ink. Ruby's eyes reflected the lights without giving off any of their own. Oswald took her hand. It was clammy and damp, but he held it anyway. Ruby squeezed his hand, but said nothing. Oswald searched for the words before at last speaking them, uncertain. "You are not one of those things to me, Ruby."

Ruby cracked a smile. "At least in part, I am."

Oswald arched a brow. "How so?"

"It's hard to ignore it." Ruby replied, finally looking at him. "Sure, you don't treat me differently. You don't act like I'm a ticking time bomb. But no matter how you act, you can't forget that I'm not your average human. And I never will be." She gave a bitter laugh. "I don't know why I bother to pretend that I am. I belong to a different group altogether...unloved." The last word came out as a whisper.

She fell quiet, knowing all too well that she'd said too much. Deep down, a part of her had felt it. Perhaps it was a simple case of bad luck. Or a result of preference: she liked men, and so did Oswald. But she knew that a part of her had always feared that it went beyond that. Maybe Oswald didn't return her feelings was because, despite his behavior, he could never forget that she different. This difference immediately caused a drift between them, making her unfit as a possible mate. Perhaps Oswald didn't love her because it wasn't natural to love something so unnatural.

"Mayor Cobblepot!" A man's voice broke out. Oswald twisted his head. Ruby, too, snapped out of her thoughts. An elderly couple was heading towards them. The man, bald as an egg, looked friendly enough. But the woman...something about her immediately set Ruby on edge. She was pale and blonde, dressed in white and standing straight-backed. She had an effortlessly regal air to her, as though she'd been born to rule and had every intention to do so. Her expression was smiling but condescending; her eyes like chips of dirty ice.

Oswald, sensing her stiffened posture, took her hand again. Ruby felt her feelings uncoil, if only a bit. "Hello, Senator Rorke." He gave a small bow. Setting his eyes on the woman, he added, "I fear, my lady, that I haven't the pleasure of knowing your name."

The woman smirked. "Kathryn." Even the way she said it made the name sound like divine music.

Oswald nodded. "Splendid name. Senator Rorke and Lady Kathryn," he smiled and turned to Ruby, "this is my...my companion. Ruby Sinclair."

Ruby felt butterflies in her stomach as she gave a polite courtsy. She tried to smile. "Pleased to meet the both of you."

"Charmed." Rorke smiled evenly. Yet when Ruby faced Kathryn, the woman fixed her with a gelid simper. "Oh, yes. I don't believe I've ever met one of Professor Strange's experiments in person."

Ruby's attempt of a smile slid off her face. Oswald turned to Kathryn, a subtle glint in his eye. Ruby straightened. "We were everywhere in Indian Hill. I have a thousand brothers and sisters."

"Those experiments were born of curiousity and intelligence, weren't they?" Oswald interjected. Ruby looked at him with wide as he added, "We don't despise, or even look down on them, in my household."

"No?" Kathryn's frozen smile widened. "How very tolerant of you."

"And what, may I ask, is your status here?" Ruby asked her a bit heatedly. "Maybe you were a queen in some foreign land." She squinted at Kathryn. "Indeed, your neck seems to be a bit crooked from wearing a heavy crown."

Oswald had to bite his lip to avoid chuckling.

Kathryn, too, gave a slight laugh. It dropped the room's temperature by about five degrees. "I suppose mine is a weight that you will never know, Miss Sinclair. By the way, it's a shame that your mother couldn't be here."

Ruby's ears turned bright red, yet her face remained calm.

"Please, give your mother my regards." Senator Rorke chimed in. "I've been a fan of hers for years."

"Surely, thank you." Ruby nodded. "Funny, Miss Kathryn. I've never seen your face around. Yet you are here, and Opal Sinclair is not."

"People everywhere display power in different ways." Kathryn replied calmly. Smiling. "Some like to flaunt what little they have, sacrificing good sense and decency. Others remain in the shadows, yet ensure that the machine of the city is well-maintained." She turned to Oswald. "I suppose we should be thankful, Mr. Mayor, that Gotham is ruled by the latter sort of people."

Oswald nodded politely. Tightening his hold on Ruby's hand.

And that was when Jervis Tetch made his presence known.