Meg stood in the middle of the floor of the Bank. Isir's body had been removed, and two Pigeons were mopping the floor. Meg knew she could have quickly removed the remaining blood and grime as a fabrikator but would have to wait for the others to leave. Sal was standing right behind her, as usual. Meg had tried to send her home, but she wouldn't go. She also wouldn't go to the meeting that Granny was holding upstairs. Dame Cora had decided to stay behind and watch over the Lady Luck and Luckies as they stayed open later. Sol was also still out, trying to gather more information on what had happened tonight. Clem had been the one to greet Meg at the Bank. They had said only one or two words to one another before heading separate ways. They were most in sync during a crisis since they shared so many. Clem was usually at her most determined during a crisis, and Meg preferred to take orders.
Meg had known Isir for years, but Clem had been closer to him. She remembered Clem announcing that he would be her first boyfriend when she was 11. Isir bragged to everyone that he would be king of the Widows. Meg caught him crying behind the Res when Clem broke up with him three weeks later.
Meg communicated to the two remaining workers that they could go and come in later for their shift, which was supposed to start in only a few hours.
"You'll be paid for this work later in the week so it won't be connected."
They both nodded dutifully. Meg had kept the two of them back to continue helping as they were the least desperate for the money and, therefore, would take on less devastating work like mopping rather than carrying a body. They dragged their mops and buckets to the back door to bring them into the hallway and the cleaning room, where there was a drain into the sewer. Meg followed them and locked the doors behind them; she closed the deadbolt on the front door. Sal grabbed an empty bucket from behind the bar; the one that Vran had vomited in had been taken away by one of the Pigeons earlier.
Meg nodded to Sal as her breathing slowed. She moved her hands and tried to focus as best she could, extracting all the spilled blood. Tiny droplets of translucent red floated in the air and moved into the nearby bucket. It was initially simple, but as Isir's face came to mind, she lost focus. She felt contaminated moving his blood. Opening her eyes, she looked at Sal, who said nothing.
Single-minded. Meg reminded herself, closing her eyes and pushing out all thoughts of Isir. He was gone, and she had a job to do. She didn't need the task of cleaning a floor to be added to her debt.
By the time she had finished, the bucket was half filled with blood, dirt, and some cleaning solution. Sal looked around and left the room. After a minute, she re-entered and inhaled.
"Can't smell a thing anymore." She said in Hand. Meg nodded and unbolted the front door. When she opened it, it was noticeably brighter despite it having begun to rain hard. Meg turned to look back at Sal.
"Should we join them upstairs?" Sal asked. Meg considered this. She couldn't hear most of it and didn't feel like getting Sal to translate.
"Can you go for me? Inform what happens." Sal nodded and went back through the door. Meg waited a minute and reached behind the bar for a bottle of red wine. She grabbed a corkscrew and uncorked the bottle, bringing the top to her lips, not bothering with a glass.
She hadn't been drinking as much the last few weeks in an attempt to remain focused. This day is already a waste. I'll waste it away. She told herself and finished a quarter of the bottle before returning it to the counter.
She sat at the bar and marvelled at how normal the Bank looked, considering the state it had been in only two hours before.
Meg wasn't sure how much time had passed when Clem entered the Bank from the backdoor. Meg glanced at the bottle, and it was three-quarters empty. Clem sighed heavily and collapsed into the seat next to her. She grabbed the bottle from Meg and drank. Meg said nothing.
"Granny's done. It seems like a lot of changes are coming. Also, no funeral for Isir for at least two days. She wants things sorted before we all gather again."
Meg noted that Clem's Hand communication was better than usual. However, it was clear she was still working in her crisis state. Meg remained unresponsive, waiting for more information.
"I can tell Granny is pissed with Vran. He didn't react the way she liked. Also, she told me she thinks there's a snitch. I don't think she suspects Sol or Dal, though." This was Meg's preferred version of Clem. The one who spoke clearly and wasn't putting on airs or affectations. She knew she was one of the few who Clem legitimately confided in. Unfortunately, she initially only ever confided in Meg's older sister. When she died, Clem waited a long time before confiding in Meg, their age difference being so vast.
Meg examined Clem, remembering her at ten. Before everything was ruined. Meg initially knew Clem from seeing her coming around her family's home, demanding money from her father. She didn't know then what was being said but knew she hated Clem.
After her visits, her father would go into the alley, and she would see him cry. He'd be gone for hours after those visits to gamble away all the money he didn't have.
"I think Isir has a cousin in Ravka. He told me he kept expecting him to visit every year." Meg wasn't sure why Clem was mentioning this. They both knew Isir had no one else. Clem took another swig of the wine.
"What changes do you think Granny is bringing?" Meg asked. Clem eyed her. Clem pointed at Meg and then brought a fist gently to her own forehead.
"You know." Meg was sure she did but needed Clem to say it.
"Tell me."
"Expanding Luckie's and Lady Luck. Focusing less on the Study Hall. Granny thinks University students don't have enough money. And we're going to start calling in more of our indentures. They're getting older, and Granny thinks they're losing value, letting them sit there." Meg understood the years of work helping girls in dire situations. Meg took a risk the day she confided in Clem that she wasn't comfortable making girls sign indentures. Clem had agreed. She always found solutions to find labour without calling them in. Granny's patience with Clem had worn out.
"What work will they do?"
"Pigeon work, if they already have jobs, they'll need to do this in the evenings."
"How many contracts do we have that haven't been used?"
"Eighty."
Meg drew in her breath. So many women were about to do work that they couldn't explain to their families, brothers, fathers, husbands, or boyfriends. Meg knew this was part of the work. Her debt kept her working 12 hours a day.
"Meg, I think it's worse. I suspect Granny has an even bigger plan, but I'm unsure if I'm right." Meg now stared at Clem, who was no longer keeping her gaze. Clem had an uncanny intuition, likely influenced by her abilities as an average Corporalki. Meg waited for Clem to continue. Her face shifted, and she glanced towards the door behind Meg. It had swung open, and several people walked in. Meg saw Zelda, Dal, Win, Sara, and other Widows. They were silent and solemn. Zelda wasted no time.
"Ok, stop hovering, get out and get to work. You heard Granny." Meg kept an eye on her mouth. She was a decent lip reader, but Zelda spoke quickly, making it more complex, and had refused to learn Hand. Meg knew it was time to leave, as she couldn't keep up with the conversations.
Win let out a yawn in response, which was a mistake. Zelda caught it.
"Oh, you're tired? Do you know how many sleepless nights I had when I was your age? There is no tiredness at this age. We keep going until we get answers." Win didn't move from surprise.
Many didn't bother to sit down and left back out the way they came. Clem rolled her eyes and got up, walking to Dal to grab them by their shoulder. Dal still had no shirt, like Clem. Clem must have said something to Dal because they screamed that they were fine. Meg moved to get up and then saw Sal standing behind them. She jumped, not realizing she was there.
"Sal, you need to stand beside me, not behind me," Meg said, clutching their chest in shock. Sal only nodded, and Meg thought she looked exhausted and considered sneaking off with her to get an hour or two of sleep. Sometimes she and Sal could put blankets on the floor of her office and nap there, and people wouldn't check.
Meg motioned for Sal to follow her, and they exited the Bank's back door. As they entered the hallway, Meg saw Granny.
"Follow me upstairs." She said to Meg. Granny was proficient in Hand. She thought it had been a genius idea, not just to use with Meg but amongst all the Widows. The ability to speak without speaking. Her daughter, Hattie, had come up with it. She had recognized that Meg wasn't dumb immediately. Hattie spoke with her hands as part of her affectation, and she was the one who identified that Meg had begun copying her. Despite what anyone said, Meg appreciated Hattie and could relate to her better than most, as they both had endured different forms of Granny's cruelty.
Sal looked up at Meg, and they both knew she wasn't to follow. Meg turned and went up the stairs to the large office. Granny was already sitting down and waiting for her. Meg suspected this meeting would be coming. She wished it wasn't during a period of such chaos. Meg remained standing, waiting for Granny to start.
"I hear you've been working on something other than jays." Meg only nodded in response. Rambling in Hand was not a good look.
Meg could feel the sweat on her hands and at the bottom of her feet. She wondered if she would ever not be intimidated by this woman. Granny was still, somehow, good-looking. Her white hair to her shoulders and looked smooth and shiny. Her face still had minimal wrinkles, but her neck had many. Meg had always wondered if she hired a private tailor since Clem could never learn how. Her long, graceful fingers were each covered in heavy jewelled rings. She was dressed in fine, rich clothing. Meg always thought she could pull off dressing like a man, in her trousers and coat, but with feminine grace and tall heels. She was lithe and muscular, and yet still strong.
Meg had once asked her sister how Granny had made her money. The rumour was that she was the mistress of the wealthiest merchant in Kerch. A merchant who was not disgusted with criminal activity but partnered with her on it as much as his "legitimate" work. He loved her and helped her build a secret empire. When he died, a rumour spread that he had left a large sum of money to her, infuriating his wife.
Meg could understand a merchant falling for Granny. She had seen her put on the charm. This was, in part, why she was so afraid of her. Every move was calculated. She wondered if Clem was the same.
"Clem has made up some nonsense about what you're doing, but now I need to know from you, Pigeon."
"I may have figured out a substance that could be sold. It's cheap to make, and the effects are euphoric; I think by Fall, many of the Study Hall patrons will be interested." Meg was guessing. She had no affinity for business; that was Clem's domain.
"Is it addictive?"
"Not at all."
"Then why would people ever take it twice? If people feel euphoric, as you say, they may not need to retake it or return to Luckie's or Lady Luck." Meg said nothing.
"I've heard you may have also solved the issue of parem." Granny continued.
"Not consistently, but yes. However, I have something that mimics the properties. We haven't tested yet due to the risk of addiction. I think I may have figured out how to reduce the risk, but it may also reduce its strength."
"Can we mimic the addictive properties of parem and introduce it into this Euphoric substance?"
Meg considered this more focused on the chemical properties than any ethics.
"I'm not sure. We've increased jays production, and so it's been put aside."
"Your number of Pigeons will be increasing over the next few days. Make the space for them, and then make this a priority. I want something we to sell on the street in a month." Meg nodded. She was relieved that she was allowed to continue to work. Meg felt tense, but this had been one of the most positive conversations she had ever had with Granny. She mustered her courage.
"Granny, can I ask where my debt stands?"
Granny smiled. It wasn't warm but chilling.
"Planning on going somewhere?" She asked, and Meg could see she was chuckling. Meg did not smile. Granny always found Meg's debt to be funny.
"Do you know how lucky you are that you were allowed to take on your father's debt? Do you know how often he begged me and every poor sap who called himself a Barrel boss to please wipe his debt clean, and in exchange, he'd give them his two oldest daughters? He would have offered to sell you but knew no one wanted a half-deaf, useless scrub." Meg's hands went down toward her side. She made no motion to respond. "So when your debt, because it is yours, reaches even somewhere close to being paid off, I'll tell you. I'll even give you a month's notice. But until then-"Granny got up. Meg closed her eyes, knowing what was coming. Granny stopped using their hand and began shouting in Meg's good ear.
"Stop bringing up your fucking debt!" Meg made no move but felt the back of her head pulled by her hair. She flung backwards. Granny pulled her forward by her hair, and she toppled forward to the ground. Meg looked up and saw Granny standing with a fistful of hair in her hand. Meg reached back and could feel a clump missing. The pain was searing, like a burn. She didn't look up and just waited. Unsure if Granny was done. After several moments she looked around and realized she hadn't heard Granny leave. God, I hope she didn't say anything else. She thought, shaking furiously. Meg had missed what Granny had said in the past and paid for it worse.
Meg waited a long time before getting up to leave. She didn't want to risk running into Granny again. She sat, running her fingers through her hair, trying to cover the clump she was sure was visible. Finally, Meg got up and tentatively went down the stairs. Unable to hear well made it more difficult to sneak around. She reached the hallway and saw that it was empty. She raced to the Warehouse, hoping some of the more diligent Pigeons would be working in case Granny went and checked on their progress. Meg regretted telling them they could come in later.
Meg opened the door and saw two already working away. Meg breathed a sigh of relief; they were her faster workers too. Meg walked towards them and nodded a 'hello.' They both inclined their heads in acknowledgment while continuing their work. They were a week ahead of schedule, but Dame Cora had finally convinced and planned to hand them out at Lady Luck, which would increase production.
Meg almost stumbled into her office and finally felt free enough to break down. She put her hands on her desk and breathed heavily. Her eyes bulged in panic. She felt the back of her head twice to see if she could find any blood, as it still hurt. Her hand showed nothing, but she was unsure. Meg felt sick to her stomach and was uncertain if she could remain standing. She felt no tears in her eyes but wanted to cry badly. Trapped, trapped, trapped. I am in a cycle of debt; I will never get out from under it. Meg tried to force the thought single-minded to the forefront, but it was interrupted by Granny screaming in her mind. Meg tried to pick up a mortar to do some work to feel normal, but her hands shook too violently. Her vision blurred as she looked around. Sal was standing behind her. Meg screamed. Sal screamed too.
"Sal, how long have you been standing there?!"
"I'm sorry, I followed you after you left the office upstairs. I thought you knew!" Sal shouted back. Meg's breathing was still shallow. She tried to control it for the sake of Sal. She did what Clem had taught her to do. Inhale through the nose for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for seven through the mouth. Inhale through the nose for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for seven through the mouth. She repeated to herself. Where I am right now, at this moment, I am fine.
"Are you ok, Meg?" Meg had begun to slide to the floor, her eyes locked with Sal's. She hated the scared look on her face. Her guilt for worrying Sal felt overwhelming.
"I'm fine, and I'm ok. This can happen." She could barely get the words out, her hands shaking badly. Sal sat on the floor next to her and crossed her legs.
"I know; I've seen it happen to you before. It happens to me too."
"Keep talking. It's helping. I'm sorry." Sal didn't look as concerned after Meg apologized. She seemed understanding.
"It's weird; it never happened when we lived under bridges and behind buildings. It only started when we moved here. Dal thought it was a sign; it meant I felt something evil, something like magic. Dal doesn't believe in magic, but I could only say something is wrong. They couldn't figure out what else it could be. Dal would try to hold me down, hug me as tight as they could. Sometimes it helped; sometimes, it made it worse."
'It never happens to Dal. But I think they get the evil magic in different ways."
"What ways?" Meg noted her hands were less shaky, her breathing slowing.
"I shouldn't tell you if they haven't…You know how Dal is; they wouldn't like me telling you about what happened to me."
Meg nodded, taking a large breath in, shuddering but feeling calmer overall.
"Sometimes I wonder what Dal would be like if we grew up differently. I feel like I'd still be me, but would they still be them? I think they would answer yes, but I don't know."
"You know you haven't grown up yet, right?"
Meg asked, lamenting how young Sal was to feel already grown.
"It feels like I can't learn anything more."
"At ten?" Meg stared at her incredulously, and Sal shrugged. Meg smiled and felt more at ease. "Thank you, Sal, you helped me." Sal smiled, pointed to her chest, and gently brought her tiny fist to her forehead.
"I know."
They both laughed; at first, it was all she knew how to say in Hand, and so it's what she used to always give as a response.
"You know, Sal, there will be more work to do. More Pigeons, and I will need your help in here more."
"Will the Pigeons be like you or like everyone else?" Sal never liked to use the words deaf.
"Mostly like everyone else, so be careful where you talk. I will need your help talking to them, though; we won't be able to teach them Hand like the other Pigeons."
Sal nodded and carefully watched Meg as she went to stand. Meg pushed herself up, and Sal copied her. They both went over to the doorway of the office and looked out. More of the Pigeons had arrived while they had been talking, and the machines were all going fervently. A few noticed Meg and Sal, and they looked up, nodding solemnly. Meg nodded back, impressed at their work ethic, considering the job they had completed only a few hours before. Meg was grateful to them; they had helped prove the value of those who couldn't hear what people said. They demonstrated their devotion, their need to provide and that they wouldn't go away if ignored. Meg lifted her hand and opened her palm. She slowly brought down one finger at a time until her index was left up and brought it slowly down, pointing toward the group.
"Thank you."
They didn't respond; they only held her gaze and returned to work. Meg and Sal turned to work, but the door from the hallway interrupted them as it slammed open. Meg saw Fara standing there, yelling something, but she couldn't understand it. The machines drowning her out. Fara was running hard towards them, screaming over and over. Meg looked at Sal, confused. Sal responded, her face panicked, her hands moving wildly as she translated for Meg.
"Dame Cora's dead, Dame Cora's dead, somebody killed Dame Cora. She's dead."