Serpent's Sacrifice

by Trish Heinrich

  “So, I suppose this was what your meeting was about the other day?” Alice asked Rose.

  “Yes. I wanted to tell you so badly! But Mrs. Frost swore me to secrecy.”

  “So instead of going to college, you’re stuck in a room making stuff?”

  “You make it sound like a prison. Do you have any idea how long it would take just to get interviewed for a job at a lab, much less how slim a chance I’d have of actually doing anything interesting? They might let me be someone’s secretary, but more likely, they’d show me the door. I have the chance to make discoveries and experiment here in a way I’d never have otherwise. Not to mention, using my gifts for something I believe in.”

  Alice smiled. “Sounds like we both get to live our dreams.”

  Rose giggled. “Just wait ‘til you see what I have in mind, if I can get it to work. You might not be the only one out in the field.”

  “Alright,” Mrs. Frost said. “Let’s leave Rose to the work for which I am paying her.”

  Rose waved good bye and turned back to the table with the tiny screws and bolts.

  “How did you know she could do all this?” Alice asked.

  “I have known that child all her life and have been privileged to see her gifts long before most. One day, women like Rose will be given the fair chance they deserve.”

  Back in the other room, Mrs. Frost poured herself another bourbon and said, “Now, I want a report after the mission. You will come here on the pretext of learning how to properly take over Diana’s legacy at least once a week, more often, if I deem it necessary.”

  “What will I really be learning?”

  “I will share my wisdom with you, if you will deign to listen. And, in a few years, you will indeed take over Diana’s interests.”

  Alice’s shoulders slumped.

  “The world sees in one dimension,” Mrs. Frost said, walking with determined steps until she was so close Alice could feel the woman’s breath on her face. “When people look at me, they see a rich old woman who is to be humored and respected...and feared, just a little. That is all. Those few who have had the unfortunate experience of my deeper qualities rarely forget them. But, for most, that still does not keep them from underestimating me, simply because of my age. Now, let us talk about you. Young, brash, no time for the rich women of Jet City, except to turn your nose up at them. How long do you think it will be before someone, somehow, knows you are The Serpent? Before Diana’s legacy is neatly divided and destroyed?”

  It felt worse than Alice had imagined to be dressed down so well.

  “To be The Serpent, you must have a public self that is so different from your true self, that no one would suspect who you really are. I will teach you how to have that — and — how to be The Serpent. If your alter ego can be satisfying in some small way, so much the better.”

  Alice nodded. As much as she hated to admit it, the old woman’s logic was sound.

  “Good. Now, I am tired and you are likely already missed. Off you go.”

  Mrs. Frost slumped onto a chair, as if her body was too heavy to hold up any longer.

  An hour ago, Alice had thought Mrs. Frost was a moody old bag, who harangued her aunt for no reason. Now, she was ashamed of such thoughts. Here sat a woman who had lived an extraordinary life, who had given that life to Aunt Diana, and who was now offering it to her.

  Glancing at the old woman again, Alice felt tears sting her eyes.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Alice whispered. “What you’ve given me...”

  “I have given you nothing,” Mrs. Frost said, her voice weary. “You earned it every day, as you grew and learned from Diana, to stand here as the woman you are now.”

  Alice turned to leave when she heard her name, strangely gentle on Mrs. Frost’s lips.

  “Do not give in to vengeance. It is a dark and terrible path. Diana would not want that.”

  It was the one promise Alice wasn’t sure she could make, but she felt like she owed Mrs. Frost something, after all this.

  “I promise to try.”

  “Good.”

  Once out of the room, Alice walked as slowly as possible, until she reached the end of the hall. She could hear the string quartet still playing, the tinkling of glasses and plates, the low murmur of conversation.

  Everything was the same, except her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  For the next two days, Lionel, Marco, and Alice went through their plan for attacking the warehouse until she felt numb with boredom. At last, the night they’d been waiting for arrived and Alice couldn’t sit still. Every book she picked up was discarded a few minutes later. She walked around the block three times before realizing it wasn’t helping and was just making her more nervous.

  Taking her gear out of the foot locker, Alice checked it all for fifth time that day. Her eyes fell on the layer of dust that was coating the furniture in her room and wondered if cleaning might calm her a little.

  When she was done, she felt satisfaction in seeing the room spotless, but her nerves were still prickling around her insides.

  But, at least the sun has set, finally. I wonder where Uncle Logan is?

  Alice was surprised to see how dark the house was downstairs, and the only light seemed to be coming from her uncle’s study. She realized that her aunt had always been the one to insist on lights, even in empty rooms.

  She didn’t like a dark house, for some reason.

  Grief suddenly gripped her, and she tried to tamp down the tears in her eyes. It wouldn’t do to be thinking of this tonight; she had to be focused.

  “Alice?” Uncle Logan asked, standing in the now-open doorway of his study.

  She scrubbed tears away and forced a smile.

  Uncle Logan gestured for her to come in and sit down, and then he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He’d never been much of a drinker and Alice had always been grateful for that. But in the last week, he’d gone through two bottles and was working his way through a third.

  He must’ve seen her eyes on the glass in his hand, because he patted her shoulder and said, “It’s my first tonight. I’m cutting back, you don’t have to worry.”

  He flopped down in his worn, patched chair that smelled of old cigars and ink. Taking his glasses off, Uncle Logan rubbed his eyes.

  “They promised me, Lionel and Marco. Promised that they wouldn’t drag you into all this. And now here you are, hours away from...”

  Taking his hand, she squeezed.

  “Why are you so frightened of this?”

  A clock ticking in the silent house was the only sound for a while before he answered.

  “Because...after all you went through as a child, I just wanted a normal life for you.”

  Alice tried to picture a husband and children, a house to be cleaned, meals to be cooked. A million days of the same stretching out until she couldn’t see the horizon. No matter what joys she knew could be had in being a mother, or being a wife to loving man, her soul recoiled from it all. She wondered if it was because of what she’d seen with her own father and mother, despite all the loving relationships that came after them. But no, Alice knew it wasn’t that simple. Her heart had always lived in other places, in adventures no respectable girl was supposed to have.

  “I don’t think,” she said, her voice gentle, “that I was ever going to have that.”

  Uncle Logan let out a tired, resigned sigh. “No, I guess not. There’s an awful lot of Diana in you, you know.”

  Alice felt the tears burn her eyes again and nodded. Not for the first time, she wondered if her mother’s calm, kind nature was inside of her somewhere. But she was starting to doubt it.

  “Alright,” Uncle Logan said, putting his glasses back on. “You hungry?”

  “For what we can scrounge up?”

  “Mrs. Muir from across the street brought a casserole.”

  Alice shrugged and followed him into the kitchen. She was the furthest thing from hungry, but knew her uncle wouldn’t eat if she did
n’t.

  Two hours later, Alice found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

  “Rose wasn’t kidding,” Alice said.

  The suit fit alright. It clung like a second skin to every inch of her, except the vest which, like Rose had predicted, did indeed add a little bulk. Alice was grateful for more than the protection the vest offered, as it covered her torso in such a way that the suit wouldn’t showcase the dips and curves of her upper body. But that didn’t help with her hips, butt and upper legs, which she’d never cared about until now, when they felt on display in the skin-tight suit.

  She turned to look behind her. “Hmm...not as bad as I thought.”

  But then she thought of Lionel, and her pale skin flushed with heat.

  “Oh, God. I can’t do this.”

  “Alice?” Uncle Logan asked outside the door.

  “Uh...yeah?”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Uh...”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Um-m...okay...”

  Every muscle in her body tensed to keep her from grabbing the fluffy robe on her bed.

  Uncle Logan didn’t smile, which Alice was simultaneously glad and embarrassed about. His brown eyes looked troubled as they slowly looked her over.

  “I...remember your aunt...wearing something like that,” tears glided silently from behind his glasses.

  Alice felt her throat tighten as tears began to burn her own eyes.

  “She’d be proud, you know? But she’d also tell you to be careful.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  Uncle Logan wiped his tears away and smiled.

  “I’m not sure I can comment on your appearance in this without sounding inappropriate.”

  Alice felt a fresh wave of heat inflame her skin.

  “But,” he said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, if that’s your only hesitation, then take a deep breath and get over it.”

  A nervous laugh shot out of her lips.

  After a moment, she took a deep breath and with eyes closed, pulled the cowl up over her head. Opening her eyes a moment later, she saw that the person staring back at her was neither weak nor ridiculous.

  There was a freedom in the cowl and suit that Alice had never imagined. Wearing this face, she could let the deepest parts of herself out, let the strength she had restrained for so long, in the name of propriety, be on full display.

  “You’re sure you’re ready?” Uncle Logan asked after a moment.

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t spar in the full suit yesterday, the cowl—”

  “Is perfect. I can see fine, and the suit doesn’t feel strange anymore.”

  He nodded. “C’mon, I have something for you.”

  When he opened the back door onto the alley behind the house, Alice gasped in shock at what she saw.

  Gleaming black and silver in the moonlight, kickstand out and ready for her, was her uncle’s Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle.

  Her mouth dangled open and she wanted to say something, but nothing except a squeak came out.

  He laughed. “I thought you’d need some way to get to the missions.”

  “But-But, this is...I mean you never...and it’s so...”

  “If you don’t like it—”

  She snatched the key from his outstretched hand before he could finish and straddled the bike. She caressed the chrome of the handle bars, down to the sides, her fingers sliding along the ridges of the engine.

  When other girls dreamt of ponies and diamond rings, Alice imagined speeding down the street on this bike, smiling at the envious stares of the boys and girls walking on the sidewalk.

  The motor purred to life, smooth and low. She smiled, a warm thrill starting in her seat and spreading throughout her body.

  “It’s been a year since you were on a motorcycle, and that was out in the middle of nowhere. Remember to be careful of cars, they might not see you, and take the turns easy. The Lightning is a smoother ride than the dirt bikes you’re used to,” Uncle Logan said. “And please, please, just be careful.”

  “I’d tell you not to wait up, but...”

  “Just...get the bastard and come home.”

  Snapping the kickstand back, she revved the engine a little before leaning forward and speeding down the alley.

  The barest hint of sea salt was always in the air in the warehouse district, though you had to sift through the tanker exhaust and factory smoke to smell it. Jet City had been a port town at its’ birth and the warehouses had spread out before the development of the downtown areas. As the wealth of the city blossomed, changes had to be made to the warehouses nearest the city.

  It wasn’t good enough to merely house goods; no, these buildings had been converted to elegant showrooms where the rich could view the newest furniture, jewelry, art, or whatever had just come off the ships. Waiters wandered the huge spaces giving endless glasses of champagne to bored socialites as they spent their husband’s fortunes.

  But the further south one went, the brick facades became faded, the windows murkier, the alley’s dark and smelly. It was a lucky night if one in four of the streetlights hadn’t been busted out. If you drove too fast, the pot holes, common in the southern neighborhoods, would quickly make you slow down. The invisible dregs of Jet City made this part of the city their home.

  In between the posh warehouse show rooms to the north of the warehouse district and the dank, dreary warehouses of the south, sat an odd assortment of buildings. Not classy but not run down, these warehouses took on a split personality of being kept up, yet housing nothing and no one very glamorous. Where the north and south had distinct personalities, this middle ground was plain and respectable. It’s streets were well lit, but not bright. The businessmen easily ignored, because they didn’t deal in anything remotely interesting to either the rich or the corrupt.

  What better place to hide something illegal?

  Alice rode down an alley that ran behind the warehouse she was meeting Lionel and Marco at. It was across from a smaller warehouse that the Syndicate controlled, and would provide a good place to wait and see if their target showed. They had agreed that caution was important on this mission. If they blew this, who knew if they’d get another shot?

  Parking the Lightning by some trash bins and hoping it was hidden well enough, Alice stepped out and was surprised to see Marco and Lionel standing a few feet away. The light was dim in this alley, and at first, she couldn’t see their faces.

  “It’s me,” she said, smiling.

  “I can see that,” Lionel said, his voice halting.

  “It’s an amazing suit,” Marco said. “Makes us look like amateurs.”

  The light glinted off the brass knuckles he wore on each hand as he tugged at his dark blue dress shirt and matching pants, which were tucked into brown combat boots.

  Alice reached up to adjust Marco’s mask.

  “Maybe Rose could...Lionel, is something wrong?”

  He was staring at her, his eyes glinting behind his domino mask. When he didn’t respond, Marco smacked him on the shoulder and Lionel snapped out of whatever he was thinking about.

  “Uh...I just...That’s...interesting.”

  Alice had a moment of wanting to crawl behind the trash bins and not come out. But, why should she? It wasn’t as if she was naked. Yes, the suit was tight and showed more of her shape than anything she’d ever worn, but what was wrong with that? Her body was strong and powerful.

  And I’ll be damned if I’m going to be ashamed of it.

  “It’s a suit,” Alice said, squaring her shoulders and looking up into Lionel’s eyes.

  “A tight one.”

  Alice reached up and grabbed the front of his dark gray turtleneck, forcing him to meet her gaze.

  “I’m a part of this team, not one of your debutantes to be ogled. I didn’t put this on for you, I did it for me. If it’s going to be a distraction, then maybe you should leave this to Mar
co and me until you can get your head in the game.”

  Lionel stared at her, his mouth open in shock, only a few inches from her face. If she moved a little closer...but, she looked away and let him go. Even if he did want to kiss her, which Alice doubted, this wasn’t the time or place.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening his shirt. “It was a shock to see it. You look...amazing, in a vigilante kind of way.”

  Alice couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks. Now, can we do this?”

  Marco walked to the end of the alley and looked around the corner. He held his hand up behind him, signaling them to hold. Alice felt her very bones hum with energy and had to tense her muscles to keep from bouncing on the balls of her feet to get it out.

  “Car,” Marco whispered at them. “A driver, and someone...oh my God! It’s District Attorney Jamison!

  “You’re sure?” Lionel asked.

  “Absolutely, I just took the guys’ picture this morning. There’s another man, but his face is hidden by a hat. He’s tall and slim.”

  “If we get Jamison here and if there’s proof in the office above the warehouse,” Lionel’s voice dripped excitement. “Well, that’s a big hit to the Syndicate.”

  “If he’s one of the heads of all this, why is he in such a high-profile job?” Alice asked.

  “Maybe because it’s the last place anyone would look,” Marco said.

  “They’ll probably go to the office straight off,” Lionel said.

  “The other guy with Jamison must be one of the other heads of the Syndicate. We could get two in one night!” Alice said.

  “Slow down,” Marco said. “We focus on Jamison, he’s the one we’re here for. The other would be a bonus, but not the focus. Agreed?”

  They nodded.

  “Marco, you go in first,” Lionel said. “Alice and I will follow.”

  “What’s your code name?” Marco asked her.

  She took a deep breath that sent tingles down her spine and whispered, “Serpent.”

  Marco stepped out and walked the short distance across the street. Lionel and Alice stayed several feet behind Marco, keeping to the sparse shadows. Whether because Marco was all in dark colors or because of his gift, he was so well hidden that no one saw him until it was too late.