Clem lay on her mattress on the floor, waking up after her first good night's sleep in weeks. She removed her sleeping mask. Dame Cora had made it for her when Clem had been a small child. She had been struggling to sleep, despite her abilities as a Corporalki. Dame Cora had said it would help. Clem wouldn't sleep without it at this point.
Clem spotted Dal at her feet, in a fitful sleep. They looked tiny in sleep but still angry. Clem had secretly aided in putting them to sleep for years, but Dal would unknowingly resist, especially if they hadn't seen Sal for a while.
Clem had been up late the night before, hanging around with some Razorgulls and trying to figure out what had been happening with the increased attacks and fights. They were always small-scale and seemed random. However, it had become a pattern, and Clem needed to get to the bottom of it. Having grown up in the Barrel, Clem knew many of the members of every gang. She even called some of them friends.
Clem had bought a drink for two men named Luka and Brat. She had known them since she was six and had been incredibly close to them as young teenagers. She hoped they would join the Widows, but the Razorgulls had a more enticing speech around power. In addition, they had an unpleasant experience with Granny. Luka was a skinny, black-haired boy who could pick locks well and had a surprising skill in a fight. Despite looking 12 years old in the face, Brat was a giant boy who could lift two men over his head. Brat had flaming orange hair, freckles, and a temper. His childlike appearance and fiery temper resembled tantrums as he became so red when upset. They drank at a neutral bar on the edge of the Barrel.
"Slag off, Mouse. We're not sayin' nothin'." Brat had said, taking advantage of the free drink and gulping down his glass heartily and ordering another. Clem twisted her mouth, looking towards Luka, with whom she always got along more warmly than Brat.
"Don't look at me, Mouse. Jumps happen constantly, and the Widows have loads of young kids in them; they're easy targets." Luka retorted, his hands moving up defensively. Clem thought it was a weak defence.
"You know I was jumped, right?" She asked accusingly.
Brat laughed.
"Well, that's your fault for looking like a weak target, too, Mouse," Brat answered, happily receiving a new pint. Clem made herself look small and scared. Brat softened his face at the look. Luka began looking guilty. He fought the urge.
"Mouse, word is you also killed one of ours when you got jumped. You're lucky we haven't retaliated for that." Shit, so that did come out. She thought, trying to keep her face neutral. Clem hid her hands in her lap and began twisting them as she compelled Luka and Brat to empathize and feel more guilt; she then whispered.
"They tried to kill me. I'm not saying you have to tell me everything, but just…should I be looking out more? Is more coming?" She lowered her head as she forced her eyes to fill with tears. She could feel Luka and Brat having empathy. Although she could feel them both trying to fight it. Luka took another sip and knocked Brat on the arm, who finished his second drink and stood up.
"Same rules as always, Mouse, keep your eyes open. Tell your Mice to do the same as we do for ourselves. Nothing's changed." He said, slamming his empty pint glass on the table.
Luka stood up, and Clem turned her head up towards him. Brat walked out of the bar, but Luka held her stare. Luka sat back down on Clem's chair, nudging her aside so they could share it. He moved closer to her ear and whispered.
"The Gulls have eyes on your territory. They're talking about it more; we're testing to see how much we can take little by little." Clem resisted cursing under her breath as she took in his words. Instead, she put her mouth close to Luka's ear.
"What will they target next?" She whispered.
Luka shook his head no.
"Be careful, Mouse." He pulled away and looked sadly at her. He left, and she could hear him saying to Brat outside the door that she had begged to sleep with him, and that's why he stayed back. Clem smiled at that excuse. She missed her friendship with both of them. She had lost so many companions as every kid in the Barrel grew up and missed those who hadn't been lucky enough to survive.
Clem sat up from her mattress and yawned; Dal sprang to life and sat up, switchblade already out. Clem ignored them and started to get up and go wash her face. Dal followed her, both going into the lavatory at the end of their hall. They saw a few open doors with other younger Widow members sleeping the morning away as they passed. Clem had ordered many of her Mice to get some sleep; she had noticed everyone had been run ragged recently. Clem ran the water and took a glance in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess.
Clem grabbed a nearby brush that was on a chipped tiled counter. She took out the pins holding her hair in their two signature buns and began brushing it. Dal leaned over a large tub to run the water. Clem turned.
"Want me to shave your head first?" Clem asked; she had noticed tuffs had grown on Dal's scalp. Dal wouldn't ask for help, but it was their bi-weekly routine. Dal nodded and turned the faucet, stopping the flow of water.
Clem finished brushing her hair and inspected herself. She could go two more days without washing it and began twisting it back into their buns and pulling out the razor she kept on the back corner of the counter. Dal stepped out, walked down the hall, returned with a tiny, dilapidated chair, and took a seat. Clem examined the razor, which could use sharpening, but she knew Dal wouldn't have patience. They had been on edge for a few days.
Clem grabbed Dal's head carefully and began pulling the razor against their scalp, ensuring not to pull too closely. The first few times, she accidentally cut Dal. Clem hummed a made-up tune, something she loved to do to annoy Dal.
Dal stared, expressionless, but Clem could feel the tension rising. Clem continued to hum, watching small pieces of hair fly off. Dal rolled their eyes, knowing Clem was trying to goad them. Clem secretly cheered that Dal took the bait by their slight reaction.
"What?" Clem asked innocently. Dal said nothing. They closed their eyes. Despite Dal's illusion of passively thinking, Clem could sense their feelings.
Clem slowed down, shaving Dal's head, and tried to focus on identifying Dal's feelings. It was like feeling in the dark until you brushed up against something and could place it the more you pawed at it. It became clear once you could figure out its name. She pinpointed it. Conflicted. She thought the word, and it felt correct.
"What're you torn about?" Clem asked. Clem had stopped being so diligent about hiding their powers around Dal, but neither had ever discussed it or the extent of it. Dal paused before answering.
"Nothin'." Clem looked at Dal through their reflection in the mirror. Dal rolled their eyes.
"I mean, if it's too hard to get into…." Clem transparently teased. Dal bit the corner of their lip and glared.
"There's been talk against you lately," Dal reluctantly admitted. Clem smiled and continued to drag the razor against Dal's head gently.
"All good, I'm assuming?"
"No, and you shouldn't joke. There's word that Granny will pick Zelda if she goes." Clem quirked an eyebrow at this. Zelda too? Not just Dame Cora? Clem wondered if people were spreading rumours to take advantage of the change in authority or if Granny had spread the rumour.
"So?" Clem probed, appearing unperturbed.
"Folks are talking more openly, saying they never understood why Granny would choose you in the first place. That it makes sense, she's finally changing her mind. Some people also say who they think should be in charge, if not Zelda."
"Who else has been named?"
"Dame Cora, many people also want a younger Widow to take over."
"People confide in you this much?"
Dal scowled at this.
"No, I've just been listening."
"You didn't stop the talk?" Clem was surprised, and Dal hesitated shamefully.
"No, I thought listening would be more helpful." Clem felt a warmth of pride. Dal rarely showed restraint or patience.
"Dal, I'm impressed. You would have attacked and not bothered to listen just a few months ago." Clem said with a smile.
"It feels cowardly," Dal said, shifting in their seat as Clem finished the back and shaved the nape of their neck more closely.
"Dal, are you a coward?" Clem asked, raising their eyebrow at them in their mirror reflection.
Dal didn't hesitate in their response.
"No."
"Exactly; trying something that feels different doesn't mean it changes what you know about yourself. You didn't answer my question, though; you feel conflicted. Why?" Dal's eyes widened as they asked incredulously.
"Are you serious? Don't be dumb, Mouse."
Clem grabbed a towel, began wiping off the razor, and turned the faucet into the tub to fill it.
"I'm not, but try explaining it." Clem kept her tone casual.
Dal twitched and jerked unconsciously, preferring not to use their words when exasperated, but Clem was dedicated to having them learn to express themselves differently.
"No one should be allowed to talk about you this way." Dal reluctantly responded.
"Right, so what's the conflict?" Clem pushed, hoping they were reaching the point, finally. But, instead, Dal turned and looked directly at Clem, their eyes blazing.
"You're lettin' them! And you don't even care! And maybe everyone is right. You never fight; you've got the shit kicked out you, and don't retaliate. If Granny dies today and the Widows go to you tomorrow, we'll be a fuckin' joke. The Liddies would take us over in a day. You've been running things like we're a shop that happens to steal our merch'; how am I supposed to fight this?"
Clem's face became severe; she turned the faucet off as the bath was half-filled.
"That's enough, Dal. I do care; you think I don't care? I spend every day thinking about the Widows, thinking about the Mice. I think about the money, the other gangs, each member of our own, every merchant."
Dal interrupted, getting up and shouting.
"So! Your thinkin' does nothing!" Clem stepped forward, bracing her shoulders; she knew what Dal needed. Dal wanted to see Clem's authority, which she rarely wheeled.
"There are other ways to work people, Dal, and other ways to rule. We have our businesses. We have our buildings. We're making money. At times it has to be enough. You can't run people and make them fight every day. They'll only be killed. Do you think I can't fight? I've fought for years. Why do you think I'm still here? I'm making sure the rest of you get to stay and don't die for nothing."
"People say you're only still here 'cause Granny protects you."
There it is. Clem thought, feeling relief. Dal finally said what they had been struggling with. Clem had heard it before; Meg said it once a month. 'Granny's protection spoiled Mouse; the Mouse is soft, and the Mouse is no better than a merchant's kid.' Clem preferred it to be said out in the open.
"People will always say shit. I'll deal with it when they can say it to my face. I hear they're still too cowardly to come out from the shadows and say it out loud."
"They're scared of Granny, not you." Dal spat.
"Fine, I won't waste energy establishing who they're afraid of. Why should I hold a gun to someone's head if Granny'll do it? I'm not going to compete with who gets to intimidate. I will fight to ensure my Mice stay alive, the Widows stay alive, and the work gets done."
"You can't keep everyone alive." Dal snarled.
Clem stared and then reached into the tub and sunk their arms in, grabbing a bar of soap on the tub's edge and rubbing it on her forearm.
"I know. Believe me, I know. But most of the Widows don't need help learning how to be pissed or vengeful. They need help in surviving the rest of it. That's what I do. Isn't that what I do with you?" Clem shot. She knew this was a vulnerability of Dal's that she was raising, but it needed to be said. Dal struggled to see the value in surviving the time between a fight. The times when things became quiet, and you were stuck with trying to face everything else.
Dal considered this. Clem could feel them trying to raise their defence so they wouldn't have to feel everything they had to survive actively.
"Is that your job, though? If Granny were to go, and you had to take charge?"
Good question. Clem wanted to hug Dal for their wisdom. Confused as to how this deprived, neglected ten-year-old could see and know so much.
"Today it's my job; if Granny leaves, maybe I'll have to learn something new."
Dal nodded at this. Clem could feel their internal conflict resolved—their trust reestablishing.
Dal removed their shirt and went to the tub, cupping the water and pouring it over their newly shaved head. Clem handed them the soap, and Dal began using it.
"I'm glad you told me, though. You're right. You're not a coward." Clem said, trying to catch their eye.
Dal said nothing, and their face didn't change, but Clem could sense their pride and appreciation.
"You got a busy day today. The stadwatch have been watching us more; they're catching on to us hanging around 3rd harbour, and people realize how much za vee we're lifting." Clem mentioned shifting the talk back to work helped ease Dal's anxiety about vulnerability.
"I know. I'm going with Sol, Isir and Vran. We'll probably be out all night."
"Not taking Win?" Clem inquired; she had seen her less lately.
Dal rolled their eyes.
"Hell no, Sol has written her off, and Vran gets dumb because of her." Clem narrowed their eyes.
"Don't blame Vran's lack of focus on Win."
"Fine, but he has skills, and he's useless when she's around." Clem could see that. Vran was 15 and an incredible lock-picker. He was lanky, tall, and terrible in a fight, but he was a solid investment. Other gangs scared the hell out of him and hadn't seen how good he was with a lock. However, at 15, he was enamoured with Win and did become more easily distracted.
They both finished washing and walked back down the hall. Other Widows were waking up, Clem suspected one or two had heard her conversation with Dal, but she was glad of it. A good way for them to know what I think without me having to tell them. Clem reflected.
They both went back to their room and got dressed. Clem knew the day would be hot, but she wore beige trousers with a light top that left her arms bare. Large pockets were sewn onto her pants at the thighs so that she could carry more. Dal dressed similarly but with clothes made for their size, so they looked like a miniature version of Clem with a shaved head. Dal belted a holster around their waste with a large revolver. They scored it two weeks ago but wouldn't reveal where it originated. Clem considered her talk with Luka and Brat and lifted one of the floorboards next to the bed. Underneath was her revolver and a large knife. She wasn't the best shot, and they weren't her weapons of choice, but she wasn't about to be left without them, even if her work today didn't require it.
Clem nodded to Dal as they both set off.
Clem stood in the sitting room in Granny's second home in the Zelverstratt. It was next door to her main home but was more minimally decorated. Everyone was ordered out of it by 12 bells. It had been years since they moved out of the Warehouse's back office and upgraded their location to the Zelverstratt district. Granny had argued that it would invite more people who weren't just Barrel girls but of every class to use their service. She was right. Not that high-class girls wouldn't use their service before; any girl could get pregnant when she didn't want. However, it helped to make them feel more at ease to recommend the Widows when it felt less dangerous.
Clem looked to Lamb. A 15-year-old girl who was a niece or something of Zelda's. She got the wits kicked out of her regularly working every other job, and Zelda had made a case for her to help Clem and take over for Meg. Unfortunately, Lamb was the type to run her mouth and then complain about the repercussions. Lamb had no interest in work, was less skilled in serving tea and wouldn't maintain the theatre of their service. Even now, she looked sour and displeased that she had to work.
"Lamb, could you get into character? Our first girl is coming soon. You look miserable." Clem snapped at her.
"So? These dumb Barrel whores don't deserve a look of fuckin' care. I don't understand why we put it on." Lamb said while observing her nails.
Clem's eyes widened in shock at her stupidity.
"Lamb shut up. Tell your aunt all your complaints or one of your friends after your shift. Until then, get ready." Clem ordered.
Lamb scowled, clicked her tongue, and made more noises of frustration as she marched off. She returned from the kitchen with a pink apron and her dull brown hair pulled back. Clem nodded and heard the front door knock. Clem went to answer it. She looked through the peephole that had been installed years before and let out a sigh. An older woman of around 38 was at the door, alone.
"Again, Francoise?" Clem asked, inviting her in at the same time. The woman removed her coat and shook her head.
"I'm praying this is the last one. He's the one who says we can't afford another child."
"Maybe I should have him sign his own contract." Clem offered.
"I wish you would. He knows that I sign multiple and that the debt grows each time. You think he cares?" Clem sighed, removing a contract from a drawer.
"Lamb, please prepare the tea for Ms. Chute; she knows the drill." Lamb nodded, in her best impression of looking demure. She left for the kitchen. Clem glanced around the room quickly and pulled open another drawer in the desk with a key from one of her pockets. She took out a similar-looking contract to the original one she had procured. She brought it quickly to Francoise and handed her a pen. Francoise signed it without a thought, not noticing that it was Clem's full name that Francoise was signing her indenture over to and not Granny's. Clem put the contract back into the desk drawer and the unsigned one, locking it once it was closed.
Francoise sat on an oversized, squashy orange chair in the corner, and Clem sat on the footstool in front of it.
"How far along do you think you are?"
"Oh, I know, I'm two months out. My body changes faster with each one." Clem smiled, but Francoise's eyes went toward the kitchen door.
"This girl new?" She asked. Clem nodded again. "Hope the other girl didn't get fired. Wasn't it part of the deal that she was deaf and couldn't repeat what happened?" Francoise asked with suspicion.
"It's true, but that one is dumb, can't understand what's happening, let alone remember it enough to repeat it to someone else."
Clem grinned wickedly. Francoise smiled but seemed concerned.
"Should she be trusted to be making the tea then? What if she makes it wrong?" Francoise pushed.
"I'll tell you an insider secret, the tea's made before anyone comes," Clem winked at her and patted her on the leg. Francoise's smile grew, and her shoulders eased.
Lamb returned with a cup and a teapot, putting it in the middle of the little table. Clem stood up and moved to stand behind Francoise, putting her hands on her shoulder; Francoise turned back.
"Mouse, I've done this enough; I appreciate the support, but I don't think I still need it." Francoise moved to lift Clem's hand off her shoulder. Clem held them there.
"I've heard that before, and then I go into another room, and I hear women asking me to come back and that they don't want to do it alone. So, it's standard at this point."
Francoise shrugged and reached for the teacup after Lamb had filled it. She downed it in one, and Clem realized she would have to move faster. Clem focused on Francoise, closing her eyes and feeling her mind push from Francoise's heartbeat to the one beating at its own rhythm. Francoise moved to get up, but Clem pushed her back down.
"Not yet. We must still monitor you; you never know if the tea could impact you after having had it so many times."
Francoise looked alarmed and stayed put. Clem found the heartbeat again and focused on it. She concentrated hard and then felt the link and severed it. The heartbeat immediately stopped, and Clem breathed out. She remained where she stood but opened her eyes and saw Lamb return to examining her nails. After five minutes, with a new tattooed line on her hand, they dismissed Francoise, who nervously thanked Clem and eyed Lamb. Lamb paid her no attention.
"How many do we have today?" Lamb asked, flopping herself on the couch and lying down.
"Five. And I need you to act more innocent and confused, ya hear?" Lamb didn't respond, which was as good as an agreement from her. Clem thought Lamb should be assigned more dangerous work in the hopes that she would get caught, possibly locked up and out of Clem's way.
They went on with the day, completing each one without any problems. Lamb's disinterest grew throughout. The sun had begun setting at the time of their final appointment. The door knocked, and Lamb went to check the peephole. They never knew who was making the appointments until they arrived. The Mice took the request and brought them, but names were always left out. Clem knew what they were doing wasn't punishable by any law. However, she didn't want to discover what would happen if it was found; she didn't want new laws around it.
Lamb laughed when she looked through the door.
"I think we know her!" Lamb cackled again and waved Clem over. Clem shoved Lamb aside and looked through the peephole recognizing the woman standing behind the door.
Blonde, half their head had been shaved some time ago and was growing out. She looked the same age as Clem, maybe a year or two younger. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, but Clem knew what she would see under it. A tattoo of a crow drinking from an empty cup. It was Anika, a member of the Dregs. Clem looked at Lamb and grabbed their wrist.
"Look at me; remember the deal. You can work with me, but you keep your mouth shut. You don't talk about who you see coming here with anyone. That's part of the deal we provide them, and that's what we tell you. If you spill, it could risk nullifying their contracts with us. So not a word about her, alright?" Her voice was almost frantic.
Clem stared hard at Lamb, who barely focused and was working on getting her wrist out of her grasp.
"Ya ya, who cares? Why protect some Dregs?"
Clem's eyes flared. She let Lamb's wrist go, knowing she would need to wait to ensure her silence fully. Clem nudged Lamb and opened the door, beckoning Anika in.
"Hello, and welcome," Lamb said mockingly. Clem could have smacked her but chose to move past it. Anika scowled and moved into the house, standing in the hallway.
"So, what do I do?" Anika asked defensively. Clem took a breath in. Anika's arms were crossed, and hugging her body defensively. Clem pitied her as she pitied many women and girls who came in. Clem had seen women come in and curse, telling them it was wrong and that they would tell the stadwatch to get new laws made. But they still took the service and were petrified of anyone finding out.
"You'll take a seat over there in that chair. We'll explain to you what we need, you'll drink tea, and it'll be done. That's it." Clem said, keeping her voice casual.
Anika looked warily but slowly moved towards the large armchair and took a seat. Clem looked to Lamb and considered.
"Lamb, I will join you in the kitchen before we start."
Lamb rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen. Clem followed from behind. As they entered the kitchen, Clem focused all she could muster, lifted her hands and lowered Lamb's heartbeat until she fainted. Clem caught her before she hit the ground. Gently lying her down. She was exhausted from using her powers all day, but it was imperative that Lamb not witness this transaction.
Clem exited and walked back into the living room; she opened the desk drawer and took out two contracts. She brought them over to Anika and sat on the footstool before her.
"How much?" Anika asked, stopping Clem from speaking. She ignored her question.
"Listen to me; I know we know each other. Occasionally, we get girls from different gangs. You need to know we don't ask for money. We ask for loyalty. We ask for a signed contract, an indenture."
Anika sat back, piecing together what this meant.
"I can't be in service to anyone else." Her eyes darted as she spoke. Clem knew Anika's reputation; she was tough as anyone else in the Barrel and had chosen the Dregs early due to her fearlessness. Clem felt her fear now.
"I know. I'm not ignorant of Dirtyhands and what he would do to you if he found out you signed anything with us. You'd be as good as dead."
"He doesn't care what I'm doing, but I'll pay. No contract."
Clem shook her head.
"Everyone says that, well, everyone who can pay. We can't start taking payments; it's not fair. Everyone's situation is dire."
Anika growled, pulling a knife seamlessly out of her pocket. Clem couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"You think I haven't been threatened before? You do anything, we don't help, and you're stuck. You'll see how stuck you are in about six months." Clem eyed Anika's torso and looked back up at her face.
"Then, what else can you suggest?" Anika demanded.
"You will sign a contract, but I promise you, I won't use it in any way that will be made public. If you try to renege, I will show it to Dirtyhands myself. You have my word, though; it will be private. I won't call on you to do anything that will reveal what you have done."
"And I just trust you?" Anika growled, still gripping her knife. Clem looked confused.
"What are your other options?" She asked with smug confidence.
Anika just stared. Clem grabbed the second stack of the contracts and handed Anika a pen. Anika slowly put the knife back in her pocket and rested the paper on her lap; she signed it while glancing over the contract's words.
"So, Clementine Finn still handles this lower work? I thought you would have moved up by now. You could have had your name on a contract without being here while it's signed. I guess you still are the Mouse." Anika smirked at her, handing back the contract.
Clem didn't respond and stood up, reopening the locked drawer and putting the signed indentured contract inside.
"Low work?" Clem asked tentatively. "You know I can switch out the tea and have a contract signed by you and keep you stuck in your situation. Don't you?"
Anika glared dangerously at Clem's words. Clem continued, her tone becoming more threatening.
"What kind of low work would Dirtyhands have you do after that? If you would be allowed to work at all." Clem walked back over to Anika and sat back down on the footstool. She smiled wickedly and tapped Anika's knee.
"I'm sorry, and I normally don't ask. But was it Dirtyhands? Is it his demon claws that grow inside you?" Clem would never usually tease girls, but Clem and Anika had a few physical altercations in the past. Clem couldn't help herself.
"He wishes." Anika had practically hissed her response. Clem studied Anika. She felt she was telling a version of the truth and was satisfied.
"When Lamb comes back out, we will tattoo you but make it small and hidden. So don't reveal any of this to her. Got it?"
Anika gritted her teeth.
"I'm not an idiot," she said. Clem rolled her eyes.
She went to the kitchen to wake Lamb, prepared to convince her that she had clumsily fallen and hit her head, knowing Lamb would never suspect her. Revelling that having a lieutenant from the Dregs in her pocket was worth its weight in gold.