CHAPTER THREE

My head was filled with cotton wool and there was a dull ache forming in the back of my jaw. Máthair held the back of my head as she forced the spoon into my mouth, feeding me 'medicine' that made me sleepy.

She usually force-fed me the thick syrup after Athair had his way with me, my body sore from the abuse. It made me drowsy, but I always hung onto the thinnest part of consciousness, swinging back and forth like a pocketwatch on a gold chain.

The very last time I remember feeling the disgusting slime on my tongue, I saw her crying as she stuck me into the wash bucket, pumping cold water onto my body and cleaning me off.

As if any amount of scrubbing could take back what he had done to me. And no amount of tears would ever absolve her for not stepping in to protect me.

"Angel! Hello, Angel?"

I was startled back into the real world by the sound of Wicked's voice. I blinked rapidly and saw her face go from fuzzy to sharp in a few seconds as my brain caught up with my eyes. There was a certain curl to her blonde hair, probably from the humidity.

"Sorry. How long was I out that time?" I asked the twins, frowning.

"Just a minute or so," Wicked said, sharing my frown. "Are you okay?"

"You're so daft! Don't you know what today is?" Joker told Wicked, digging her elbow into the girl's ribs.

"Really, girls, I'm quite all right," I told them.

The two shared an unconvinced look, which I did not appreciate seeing as they were not subtle about it in the least, and then looped their arms together. It seemed that was that, but I was happy to let them buy my lie. Though, truth be told, I wasn't certain they believed me at all.

It had been a rough two weeks since the first print of a slaughtered boy in Queens. Since then, three more boys, carved up and gutted the same way, had turned up but the bodies were spread out - another two in Queens and one in the Bowery in Manhattan. It was like a nightmare, one that we weren't escaping any time soon. The violence brought forth so many unwanted memories, things I'd been trying to forget for a long time now.

"Do you girls need me anymore? We got most of the shopping list, and I need to head to Manhattan before the sun gets any higher," I told the twins, glancing up at the sky.

Twice a week, us females were expected to do the shopping and cook dinner for the boys. Call me progressive, but I didn't appreciate the way we were expected to work all day and then come home and pamper the boys. Sure, high society had tried to drill into my head that our only use was to find a good husband and create children, but that had long been put out of my head as a plausible thing for me. I was practically approaching old maid status anyhow.

"Hello?" Wicked cocked her head to the side and groaned. "You keep going away, Angel. Are you sure you're okay?"

I shook my head. "No, I know," I said and then shook my head again. "Ah, I mean, yes, I'm fine. I'm right here, I promise."

The twins shared another unconvinced look, but neither of them said anything.

"Are you sure you should be going to Manhattan, Angel? Boss was pretty clear that-" Joker began, and then stopped abruptly when I pinned her with a look.

"I know what he said," I told her patiently. "But today is my ballet lesson. Plus, it's clear as day out. I can't very well get stabbed in the middle of the day, can I?"

My tone challenged her to fight me, but Joker was as loyal as a dog. She wasn't going down so easily, which I suppose I could applaud her for. "What about taking Sneak with you?" she offered, as a form of compromise.

The little bird popped out from behind a fruit cart as if summoned by the mention of his name and I smiled despite myself. His dark hair had grown out again that desperately cried for a haircut and he had shot up like a weed in the spring, but he still had the most endearing baby face that reminded me he was still a child.

"I don't mind tagging along, Angel. We're supposed to go in pairs anyway," the birdie chirped, always happy to follow Spot's orders to the letter. It was as if he saw no other to do things.

"I am not letting fear overtake us," I told the three of them, perhaps a bit foolishly. "And this is madness. I can let off my leash for a few hours, don't you think?"

"But, Angel-" Joker began to protest.

Off the cuff, I proposed a deal: "How about this? I will meet Sneak at the Bridge at suppertime. He and I will walk back together and I'll help you guys make dinner. It will be as if Sneak followed me around all day. No harm, no foul."

"But what do we tell Spot?" Sneak wanted to know.

The twins understood what I meant instantly. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you snitcher," Wicked told him and then grinned. "Now beat it before I kick ya in the pants!"

Sneak got that message loud and clear and he disappeared again, hurrying off in the opposite direction, stealing glances over his shoulder at us until he was out of sight.

"What have I told you about threatening children?" Joker whirled around on her heel to face her counterpart.

"We've never discussed threats, only actions. And I've never actually kicked a child, which you would know if you paid attention to me, which you do not," Wicked informed her matter-of-factly.

"Girls," I said, to get their attention. They both look at me. "We don't tell Spot and I come home in a few hours. Deal?"

"Deal!" The both spit in opposite hands and offered them to me. I spit in both of mine and then crossed them to shake, making the twins laugh.

"Just... be careful, okay, Angel?" Joker added, squeezing my elbow gently before she and her twin moseyed on to continue shopping.

Finally free, I headed straight for the Bridge that would take me to my freedom, if only for a little while.

Lessons concluded sooner than I would have hoped and I hung up my ballet costume and shoes, storing it in a backstage closet for safekeeping. After inquiring of the time from a gentleman on the street corner, I sighed and headed slowly back toward the Bridge, taking my time.

On the way, I stopped to buy a calla lily from a young girl in a flower shop. White lilies meant purity and the restoration of innocent after death. The sun had peaked and was making its slow fall toward the west, putting me on edge a bit. Of course, I had told the twins that I was not afraid, but I was deathly terrified. Four of us had been murdered, presumably by the same monster. No one was safe.

As I made my way toward the graveyard, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Someone was following me. Or was that simply my paranoia? I stopped at street corners and crossed several streets, hoping my peripheral vision would give me a glimpse of the person following, but nothing was helpful. Fed up, I stopped at a street corner and whirled around on my feet, hoping to catch the creep by surprise.

"Stop following me!" I exclaimed and the stopped short when I realized who was standing there just behind me. "You!"

It was the Irish pickpocket again. I'd seen him skulking around the fringes of heavily crowded areas in Brooklyn, sneaking glances at me. I was absolutely livid to see him now, knowing he'd been following me.

"Well, well, well. So the educated lady has a little fire," the pickpocket said, smirking. "Angel, wasn't it? Spot Conlon's girl?"

I dug my nails into my palms in anger. He'd said it to make me mad. "You know my name. And I've all ready told you how I feel about being referred to like that."

"Oh, right. You're your own person, aren't you?" He was mocking me again.

"You were following me," I accused him.

"Full of ourselves, too! Do you have any positive qualities, Angel? So far, I've only seen quite glaring faults in your character." Again with the mocking.

I was tired of this. Instead of responding, I turned on my heel and crossed the street. He chased after me, not even missing a beat.

"Awh, come on! Fight back! It's no fun when you don't fight back," he teased me, falling in step with me easily.

"You know my name. I don't know yours," I countered.

"Your name isn't Angel. I don't know yours either."

Damn, he made a good point.

"You aren't a bull, are you?" I asked. He gave me a side-glance that seemed to beg me to be joking. I had seen him commit a crime after all. Several, actually. "My name is Alissa. Just Lissa, if you please," I said, after a moment.

"Lissa." He tested the name on his tongue, and then smiled. "I like that." I wanted to tell him that I could've cared less if he liked it or not, seeing as I hadn't chosen the name, but he continued speaking: "People call me Mick."

I frowned. "That's derogatory. Why would you let people call you that?"

"People are gonna call us derogatory things anyway. Might as well save them the trouble," Mick told me, shrugging his shoulders.

"People used to treat me poorly when I was a society girl," I shared after a few beats of silence. "Because I was Irish. People thought less of me, because they think the Irish are stupid."

"That's why I don't mind people calling me Mick." He looked over at me. "I can't be something I ain't. And I am full-blooded Irish."

"Where are you from?" I inquired curiously.

"Cork." He smiled again. "You?"

"Tralee." I tilted my head a bit. "Cork wasn't far from us."

It felt odd to talk about Ireland with someone. I didn't spend a lot of time pining after my homeland, not after all the trauma I went through there. I wouldn't go back to Ireland if someone paid me handsomely for it. New York was safe, though it didn't feel safe right now.

"So why are you going to a boneyard anyway?" Mick wanted to know.

It was only then that I realized we were standing outside the cemetery. I was still holding the calla lily in my hand.

"My friend is buried here. She, ah..." I faltered a bit, tears stinging my eyes so suddenly.

"It's all right. I'm sorry," he said, softening a bit.

"No, I-I'm sorry. It's, ah, hard to talk about her still sometimes." I felt like a fool. I didn't know this boy from Adam and it embarrassed me to have him see me this way.

"I can't even imagine, lass," Mick said empathetically. For some reason, hearing that helped. "Besides, I'm gonna head on. It's not proper for us to be alone together, is it?"

I smiled a little. "I suppose it's not."

He tipped his head and gave me a pirate smile. "See you soon, Angel." It still sounded like he was mocking me when he said my name.

I watched him head down the street, shaking my head when I watched him snitch an apple from a cart, the owner completely oblivious with her nose in a book.

I took my time in the cemetery, sitting in front of Diana's grave, just talking to her. I missed having her around to talk to about what was on my mind, but I took comfort knowing she was at peace and away from all the madness that was going on. Once again, all I wished I could do was speak to her. If she didn't know what to say, at least she could give me a hug.

Going back to Brooklyn didn't entirely seem appealing at the moment. I was going to be late, which I knew I would be in the very beginning. No use setting my lungs on fire trying to get back to the Bridge. If I was going to get in trouble anyway, I was going to spend as much time as possible prolonging the inevitable.

"Angel!" Jack greeted me, when I stepped inside the Duane Street Lodging House. "You're just in time for dinner." He patted the empty seat between himself and Skittery at the table.

Dinner was only served to those who could afford it. I found it a little ironic that there were some kids at this table that could afford dinner but not a bed to sleep in at night. It seemed sort of ass backwards to me.

"Hey, Angel. How goes it?" Skittery asked me, passing me the basket filled with warm rolls.

I shrugged. "I could be better. These murders have me really shook up," I told him honestly. "How are you guys doing? I heard about the boy in Bowery."

Skitts frowned. "He wasn't one of ours, thank God, but it's still rotten. A lot of rotten things are happening to us, just like always."

I couldn't argue with him there and that seemed to be the end of it, as Skittery was happy to tuck into his dinner without another word on the subject.

"What about you, Jack? Are you okay?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Just gotta take it one day at a time, yeah? It's all we can do." I nodded in agreement. "What about Spot? What does he think about all of this?"

"Beats me. He hasn't told me a thing," I said and then frowned. "I don't even know if he's truly upset about it."

Sean Conlon had grown into a very reserved, calculated man. It only made sense, of course, since he was in a position of power. It just always seemed to catch me off guard, his almost cavalier way of looking at things.

I paid for my dinner when I was finished and bid the boys goodbye. I figured it was time for my punishment, though I was not looking forward to it. I was actually surprised when I came to the Bridge and found nobody waiting there for me. No doubt Sneak had rushed off when he realized I wasn't coming to tell Spot. I wondered when he was going to send the bloodhounds out to find me, or why he hadn't lit up the entire city looking for me.

However, I got my answer as I made my way over the hump of the Bridge, descending down into Brooklyn Heights. He was leaning very casually against a steel beam, the cigarette smoke curling like thin clouds away from him.

"You're late," he informed me in a measured tone.

"Yes," I said wearily. I was not in the mood to be read the Riot Act tonight. "Can we please just go home, Sean?"

He gripped my wrist to stop me from moving past him. "That's it? I ain't seen you all day, you've been avoiding me, and now you won't talk to me. How am I supposed to know what's going on with you if you don't talk to me?"

"How are you supposed to know what's going on with me if I don't talk to you?" I repeated, laughing at the irony of that question. "You've been pretty secretive yourself, Sean Conlon, so do not talk to me about secrets."

"Lower your voice, Lissa," he told me patiently, like he was speaking to a child. "And I know you were in Manhattan. I see everything. But what I don't know is why; why you constantly feel the need to go against everything I say."

"I don't need to explain myself, but I guess I have to. You know what today is for me, and I was going to Manhattan for lessons anyway. I'm sorry to have disobeyed you once again, but I'm not a child. And I'm certainly not your pet, so quit treating me like one." I had no idea where all of that had come from. It was like once I'd started speaking, I couldn't stop.

Spot stared at me for a long time before speaking again. "I'm sorry," he said, which floored me. I hadn't expected an apology. "I completely forgot it was today. You went to see Diana."

I nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. I was flabbergasted. "Forgive me, Lissa. Please."

I shook my head. "Not tonight," I told him quietly. "Ask me again tomorrow."

Surprisingly, he took that. "All right." His eyes searched my face for a moment. "I love you, Lissa. You know that, don't you?" He sighed. "And I'm sorry if you feel like I've been secretive. I'm not keeping things from you, Liss. I promise."

"Yes, I know," I told him. "I love you, too."

Somehow, both of those things tasted like lies.

Author's Note-

This too me too long because I honestly deleted and rewrote this chapter probably four times, but that means you get an extra long chapter for waiting so long! I don't want to give too much away but I am bursting at the seams with all these delicious plot bunnies! Hope you guys are still with me!

Thanks as always to my better half Joker, my amazing guest, and the insanely talented coveredinbees14!

Carryin' the banner!

xx Wicked