CHAPTER FOUR

I couldn't figure out what to do with my knot of hair. I'd finally found some time to sit down and give it a proper wash and now the damp strings of blonde just hung limp around my face. I supposed it was entirely girly of me, fussing over my hair. Remembering the comment made about my hair being down, I simply plaited it and called it good.

It was Saturday, which meant that some of the girls were off selling for either extra cash or enough money to afford to sleep inside that night. The rest of us had chores, as if we weren't busy selling papers or working in a factory the rest of the week like everyone else.

My chore this week was laundry, which I fancied much better than doing the cooking or beating the rugs free of dust and dirt. Thankfully, it was only linen day so I got to work stripping the beds and placing the linens into a basket to take to the large washing basin.

I paused at the foot of my bed. I'd taken a trunk from my society girl days and kept some of my dresses and valuables in it. I had it locked and kept the key with me because, much as I trusted the girls, I couldn't be too careful. The things I'd kept for myself because of my vanity were worth more than a few bucks and I wouldn't put it past any of them to pawn them off for some easy cash.

Hell, I was considering the same thing. I'd had this bright idea that I would sell back my old dresses to the store and save that money for when money was tight so that girls who maybe couldn't afford to pay the Lodging House rent wouldn't have to sleep on the street. I thought it would be especially useful in the wintertime.

As I was hanging the linens on the line on the roof to dry, I heard hurried footfalls on the stairs headed toward me. One of the younger girls who frequently stayed at the house, called Calla, burst through the door and smiled big.

"Angel! You have a caller!" she informed me quite happily.

I pinned my last sheet to the line and then gathered up my basket. "Well, let's see who it is, shall we?"

I followed Calla back downstairs, leaving the basket in the washroom where it normally lived, and then headed down the second flight of stairs that took us to the day room.

He looked very handsome standing there, leaned against the wall. He was wearing a shirt I'd never seen before that looked far less threadbare than his usual attire. It looked pretty expensive, too. His hair was pushed back out of his eyes for once. I took notice of the few girls hovering close by, giggling behind their hands and whispering to each other as they watched him. I paused a few steps up and smiled.

"Why do I feel like you only come here for the other girls? You do so love the attention, after all," I tease him.

He turned and smiled at me. "Do I really need an excuse to come and see my girl?"

I shrugged innocently. "I suppose not."

He offered his hand to me and I took it, letting him guide me down the last few steps. He circled his arms around my waist and held me close for a moment. "But you're right. I do like the attention."

I groaned. "You are shameless, Sean Conlon."

"You know me so well," he answered, pressing his lips to my cheek.

I leaned back a moment, fingering his collar. "New clothes?"

"I came into some money recently," he explained coolly. I wasn't sure what about his tone I didn't like, but I didn't press the matter. "But I brought you something as well."

"A gift?" I asked, actually flattered.

He produced a small box from his pocket and handed it to me. I was touched. I unwrapped the twine around the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a beautifully designed white lace choker necklace. It was something I never expected him to pick out for me.

"Gracious," I gasped. "This is so beautiful."

"I know you never wear your society dresses anymore, but the blue one is my favorite. I thought this would go well with it," he explained, looking almost bashful.

"Sean, I can't accept this. It looks very expensive," I told him, shaking my head slightly. I ran my thumb over the intricate lace design, enamored.

"That's too damn bad, because I want you to have it," he said, grinning slightly.

I closed the box and threw my arms around his neck. "Thank you. I'll treasure it always."

"You're welcome." He mouth captured mine for the briefest of moments and then he pulled away again. "Now, then. I have somewhere to take you now."

"You do? Where?" I asked.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise!" Sean was grinning again, a most genuine thing that I hadn't seen in some time now. It was as if nothing bad was happening outside of our little bubble again. "You don't have other plans, do you?"

I shook my head and then smiled at him. "No, I don't. We can go," I said and then turned to Calla, handing her the little box with my necklace in it. "Calla, will you be a darling and put this under my pillow?"

"Yes, Angel!" Like the dutiful little thing she was, she took the box from me and darted upstairs.

Sean offered his arm to me like a proper gentleman and we exited the Lodging House. Once on the sidewalk, though, he switched to the other side of me so that I was walking on the inside away from the street. For someone who had never actually learned etiquette, I was pleased that he remembered the proper way to escort a lady.

"So can I get a hint as to where we're going?" I pressed. "And why don't you have Sneak with you? He's always hovering around you. I honestly can't believe we're actually alone right now."

"I'm full of surprises anymore, Liss," Sean said, the pirate smile tilting his lips again.

"Yes, I suppose you are."

He didn't say anymore to that. He didn't tell me where Sneak was, didn't offer up any reason why he'd given me a gift or why he was wearing new clothes. I suppose any old girl would've just been happy to have someone buying her gifts and doting upon her, but I found myself skeptical. Things were going very poorly around us; children were dying in the streets, strangled and stabbed to death by a predator nobody could name. He was acting strangely detached from the whole thing now, and I couldn't put my finger on what about it made me not entirely believe him.

"I feel like we haven't properly gone out in months, mo grá." The endearment was nice to hear. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I said, looking over at him curiously. "Is everything all right with you?"

"I don't know how anything can be right at this moment," he said, looking far away for a moment. "But being here, with you, is the most right thing I've felt in a long time. I'm sure of it."

"We'll be all right, you know." I pressed my lips together thoughtfully. "I wish you wouldn't worry so much."

"It's not just worry, Liss. It's bigger than that."

I would never understand this part of Sean's life: the leader, the street rat. In my eyes, he was two different people inhabiting the same body. Sean and Spot. Two very different personalities that constantly seemed to be at odds with each other. He had changed so much in the six years that we were apart that sometimes he was like a stranger to me. To be fair, though, I supposed that I had also changed quite a lot in six years.

"Have you ever thought about our life beyond this?" Sean asked. I looked at him curiously. "What happens when we stop being newsies?"

"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "Have you been thinking that way?"

"Sure, I have." He sighed and looked away from me, pensive again. "We've been through so much in the last year, Lissa. So much has happened. I'm not just looking after myself anymore. I'm looking after you, too. The streets is no place for me anymore, not when I have you back."

"Don't say that, Sean. I'd never expect to take you away from the newsies," I said, surprised. "Where is this coming from?"

He smiled a little. "I want to make an honest woman of you, Alissa O'Rourke. I want to marry you someday and live in a real house. Hell, maybe we'll have a kid or something." He laughed at my slight look of horror at that comment. "Being a newsie is for kids, Lissa. We ain't kids no more."

"Of course I want to live in a real house and get off the streets. This serial killer business has us all frightened. But we can't leave now, Sean. Not when we're getting killed like this. People need us here, Sean. People need you." I gave his hand a squeeze. "You are the most famous and respected newsie, are you not?" I teased him.

"I guess I am." He grinned at me and then hooked his arm around my neck, pressing his lips against my forehead. "I promised my father I'd keep you safe and never let anything bad happen to you, ever. Let me keep that promise, Lissa."

I nodded slowly and wrapped my arms tight around him. "Yes, of course."

Sean let me go and then smiled at me again. "Now then. I think I've distracted you enough." He held my shoulders and turned me around to face the opposite direction.

Leaning against the doorframe stood the most familiar face. Her ocher freckles littered her lovely face and her strange violet eyes twinkled mischievously at me.

"Och! Lissa O'Rourke, as I live an' breathe." It had been too long since I'd heard her brutal Scottish accent.

"Lara!" I yelled suddenly and then launched myself into her arms, holding her tightly. "When did you get back from India! You must tell me everything you learned!"

"I only go' back a week ago, lass!" Lara laughed and embraced me back. "It's goo' ta see ya, Lissa. I trust Conlon's been treatin' ya well?" I couldn't see, but I could only assume she was sending a glare over my shoulder in Sean's direction.

"Of course, Nightshade," Sean said, teasingly using a "newsie" nickname she didn't actually go by anymore. Not since she was studying to be an actual doctor.

"Please, won't ye come in?" Lara invited us, stepping back from me to push the door open more. "I'll put the kettle on an' tell ye everything!"

Lara's adventures in India were most thrilling. She was learning the art of herbalism, a most progressive form of medicine that used roots and herbs that grow from the ground to cure common illnesses. She said that the India's medical practices were far more advanced than those in America and she'd learned quite a lot from her travels abroad.

It was exciting to see her again after not seeing her for months since she'd gone away to study. I was happy that she was back. I had missed her very dearly. However, Sean decided we should start heading back to Brooklyn when he noticed the sun beginning to set a bit. We said goodbye to Lara and then started on the walk back.

"Thank you for taking me to see her. That was very kind of you," I told Sean, squeezing his hand affectionately.

"I figured you'd be happy to see her. I'm usually right, as you know," he said, giving me his most pirate smile.

As we approached the Brooklyn Bridge, I pointed to a small group of people hovering to the side of the bridge's mouth. "Look at that. Caravans. Do you think the circus is in town?" I inquired, looking over at Sean.

I was surprised to see his face contort in disgust. "They're gypsies, Liss. Trash."

"Why do you say that?" I asked him. It was sentiment that was also shared with high society and I still never understood it completely.

"They're not like us, Lissa. They're all thieves and liars. You don't want to get mixed up with them."

"We're not so unlike them, Sean," I told him gently. "Do you think they tell fortunes?"

He gave me a funny look. "You don't believe in fortune-telling."

"Certainly not, but I do think it'd be interesting," I said and then laughed when he gave me the same funny look. "Oh, indulge me, will you? I'll use my own money. That way, I'll have no one to blame but myself."

He grinned at me. "Fine. But when they take your money, don't come crying to me."

We headed toward the group of caravans together. A boy no older than myself stepped in front of us, offering a beautiful wild rose to me.

"Beauty for beauty," he said in a thick accent I didn't recognize, his eyes shining with mischief.

Sean didn't appreciate the sentiment, of course, and took the flower from him, throwing on the ground at the boy's feet. "Back off," he said, calm and cold, his arm tight around my waist like a vice.

The boy put his hands up in a way of surrender and then stepped back. We climbed up into the caravan with the sign that listed fortune-telling and Sean closed the door behind us.

The caravan was cramped inside, but beautiful, multi-colored scarves hung from the ceiling. It was something out of a harlequin novel, with jars of herbs and spices lining worn wood shelves. I half-expected to see a haggard old woman with boils on her face standing over a cauldron, muttering spells.

Sitting at the table, however, was an old woman dressed in a multi-colored sari, the fabric looking exactly the same as the scarves that covered the ceiling. Her skin was worn and leathery around her hands, as if she'd been doing hard labor most of her life. She had a scarf wrapped around her head as well and strange designs drawn on her hands, arms and feet that looked like tattoos. What most surprised me was her eyes, which were colorless bowls of milk amidst the sea of winkles on her face.

I looked away for a moment, embarrassed to have been staring at her. She was blind.

"Welcome, my pets. I do so enjoy when young couples seek me out," she said, her voice as watery and glassy as her eyes. "Please, sit."

I ignored the look Sean was giving me, and the fact that I could almost taste his skepticism in the air around us. He pulled the chair out for me first before taking the seat beside me.

"So who shall go first? I assume this was Alissa's idea; you're not so open-minded, are you, Sean?" the woman said, a kind smile on her weathered face. "Shall we, Alissa?"

It seemed bizarre that she knew our names without asking. I was skeptical myself of things like divination and fortune telling, but if that wasn't a sign that she had some kind of power, I don't know what would've convinced me.

"Sure," I said hurriedly. "I'm game. I shall go first."

"Very well. We will do the standard three-card spread. Past, present, and future." The woman shuffled the cards a few times and then fanned them out across the table. "Think carefully and then choose, Alissa."

She made it sound so ominous, as if cards would dictate my entire life. I made my selections and she pulled the remaining cards together quickly with a decisive snap.

"Middle is first," the woman said. "Turn if over, if you please." I did so silently. She touched the card for a moment, thinking. "Ah, the page of cups. You are doing great things, Alissa. I sense that you are a highly creative, imaginative spiritual being. Do you paint, perhaps? Or sing?"

"I dance, actually. I'm quite fond of it," I told her.

"Ah, of course. The page of cups is a wonderful dancer. Such expression can be made through the body," she said. "That's wonderful. Continue to use that power. It can be very healing for you." The woman shifted in her chair and then settled again. "Now the past card."

I turned the card over. She touched it as well. "The Judgement card. You are used to feeling the weight of scorn on your back. You were trapped in a life not meant for you. However, this card also signifies new beginnings. You are free from that life, and able to chart your own course. However, take heed that all of life's changes are by fire; change is painful and it will hurt. But you will learn a great lesson."

I supposed that could mean many things. Not only my escape from Ireland with Sean, but also my escape from high society. Both places I did not belong, but I felt as if I belonged now. "That's really interesting," I said.

"Now the last card, if you please," she said. I turned it over and she touched the card just as before. "Oh, my. This is the five of swords. The Traitor. You are living amongst dishonesty, Alissa. This card represents victory by betrayal. The truth will out at a high cost to you. Take caution with your heart. The ones we love the most cut us with the sharpest blade."

I was alarmed by this card. So was Sean, it seemed. The woman was not bothered of course, simply gathered the cards up in her weathered hands.

"Five cents, my pets," she reminded us. I glanced at Sean, studying his face a moment before I offered up the money to her. "You next, Sean?"

"Sure, I'll give it a go," he said. I smiled at him.

The woman shuffled the cards and then fanned them out, just as she'd done to me. Sean selected his three cards and she snapped them back into a pile.

"Present is first," she said. Sean turned the middle card over. "Ah, the Devil card." Sean tossed a pirate smile my way. "This card symbolizes a person's being and is a good sign. However, it also shows that you are involved deeply in temptations. Are you an addict, Sean?"

"Only to cigarettes," Sean said, looking confused.

The woman didn't seem convinced. She pressed on, however. "Next is the past card." Sean turned it over. "The knight of coins. Interesting! Underneath that devilish exterior is a man that is like fire. You are fiercely intelligent and a natural leader, are you not? You are stubborn as well, and highly protective of the things you love. I assume your young companion is among the things you treasure."

Sean touched my hand with his own, squeezing my fingers. "Yes, very much so," he told her. I blushed slightly.

"Now the future card." He turned it over. The woman frowned so deeply, so suddenly. The card was upside down, something I hadn't seen before. "Oh, Sean. This is very unsettling. The Knight of Swords reversed. With all that power that you wield, you are such a clever liar, aren't you? You are deceitful and wicked, confident the things you have buried will stay hidden. Reconsider the path you have chosen. This card is a warning that the path you have chosen will have disastrous results. It is never too late to change your fate." Then, just like that, the smile was back on face. "That's another five cents, pets."

Sean practically threw the money at her, took my hand and then yanked me hard out of the caravan. He was clearly very flustered by the entire endeavor.

"I'm sorry for that," I said hurriedly. "Fortune-telling is a sin. I should not have subjected us both to that. I feel the need to go to confession for a week straight."

"I told you it was just some make believe shit that those gypsies sell to make easy money. You know, I bet that woman wasn't even blind. It's so easy to fake handicaps. The newsies do it all the time," Sean said, suddenly so angry, glaring at nothing in particular. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry," I apologized again.

"We're going home, now," he decided.

We walked silently together along the road and he said not a word as he walked me back to the Girl's Lodging House. He simply kissed my cheek and then retreated into the darkness.

I slept fitfully that night, troubled the tarot card readings and what the woman said. I didn't want to know what sort of trial by fire I was facing or what sort of lies Sean was struggling to keep buried. I wanted so badly to brush this entire thing off as rubbish but I couldn't shake the feelings so easily. I was afraid the woman was right about everything she'd said.

I awoke with a start the next day. Anxious voices from downstairs roused me from sleep and then tones made me worry. I was quick as a bunny getting dressed for the day in my newly washed dress and I pushed my feet into my boots, lacing them up hurriedly. Rushing down the stairs, I found most of the girls all ready awake, crowding around Wicked and Joker who were holding a newspaper in between them.

"What's going on? What's the headline?" I asked.

The girls parted enough for me to make my way to the twins. I peaked over Joker's shoulder to look at the headline and ice filled my veins.

'BROOKLYN HEIGHTS BOY FOUND STRANGLED. NO LEADS.'

Author's Note-

Welp, there it is. The killer's in Brooklyn! Unfortunately, I'm sure you guys who have followed me since the beginning know the usual algorithm of my stories: when there is fluff, there are bad things coming. Fluff is always a bad omen in my fics; sorry bout it! (I'm not sorry)

Thanks as always to my better half Joker, my amazing guest, and the much more talented than me coveredinbees14!

Carryin' the banner!

xx Wicked