by Holly Chavez
“I am. She was thrown across the room when she tried to attack us. Hit pretty hard too. It must have fallen off then.”
I wince. “Where you able to follow her?”
“No, she jumped through the second story window. I’m not really sure how she managed it without breaking her neck and both her legs. By the time we made it out the front door, she was long gone. We followed her trail for a while, but eventually we lost that too.”
“What direction was she going?” I twist the black spider between my thumb and forefinger. A little metal black bird flies at the center of the spider, almost too small to see. I’m surprised I never noticed the little bird before.
“North.”
I wonder if the necklace is stolen. The Girl of Shadow was close enough to Izabel that it’s possible… and yet… “What did she look like?”
“Ohhh… short, slim, with either dark brown or black hair. I couldn’t see anything about her nose.” We both remain silent for a while in contemplation until Daytin breaks the silence with a question. “What do we do now?”
I let out a sigh. “I’ll let you know soon. First, I need to take care of a few things.” I dump a pile of bills on the table and leave. Daytin can finally go home and get some rest, but for me, as the saying goes, there’s no rest for the wicked.
I need to find a jeweler.
Necklace in hand, I make my way through the best part of the city. Almost all of the business owners in this district are loyal to The Boss, which has brought them success. This is where people with money and power purchase the bulk of their goods, making this district the most sought after for business owners, but to land a location here requires making deals with the devil.
The streets are busy even though it’s growing late. This is the only district with an approved nightlife where the affluent get to flaunt their wealth. Lanterns are placed every few feet, illuminating the streets enough to prevent walkers from stumbling, yet dark enough to provide cover for those who would prefer not to be recognized. Couples walk hand in hand enjoying live music while even more single men are out and about mingling with prostitutes, drinking, or looking for “illegal” fighting rings. Nothing is really illegal here. The Boss knows of every transaction that goes on and encourages them because ultimately he is in control and can decide what “perks” his loyal followers deserve. Those outside his circle know not to come here at night.
Cutting through it, I leave all noise and crowds behind. No one there could help me without a price. I come to a fence that divides this district from the next and flash my badge at the gate guard who allows me to pass without a word.
Walking around for a bit in a loop just in case anyone attempted to follow me, I end up outside a rough looking building with a sign overhead saying, Atticus Jewelry and Pawn Shop. The building is gray and unfriendly with bars on the windows and a metal screen on the door. It looks closed, but I know better. Atticus is always open for a friend and as an insomniac, it’s possible to reach him at any hour.
Using the metal knocker a few times, I can hear movement on the inside. Before the door is even opened, Atticus peeks his face through the curtain of the window. He’s a little skittish, always afraid he’s going to get raided for owning illegal old world items. When he sees me, his face lights up and then disappears back behind the curtains.
A second later the locks are turning until the door opens with a creak. “Darick! How great to see you! It’s been a long time.” He unlocks the metal screen. “Come in. Come in. The place is a mess, but when isn’t it?”
I slide past him, his shop is overcrowded with odd and end items, making it even more difficult to maneuver during the night. “Come, follow me to the back. There’s light and more space back there for is us to catch up.” Following close, I still manage to knock into an item here and there.
His office is lite with a bright lantern, his desk is covered in papers. He quickly tidies up by sweeping everything into a stack in one corner. I’ve never known the man to be particularly concerned with organization. “Here, come closer to the light, I want to get a good look at you. It’s been too long.”
“It has. How’ve you been?”
“Oh you know, staying busy mostly.” He looks me up and down. “You look just like your father.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Now, tell me what you’ve been up to?” He waves to the seat across from his. I have to move a box before I can actually sit.
“Same as you, staying busy. The Boss keeps me running around and Liberty needs my attention more now than ever before.”
“So I’ve heard, but I’m not asking about The Boss or Liberty. I want to know about you!”
“Well, there’s not a whole lot to say. I don’t exactly have a personal life…”
“I see. Let me impart some wisdom onto you since I don’t have any children of my own to pester. Don’t waste a moment of your life. You need to learn how to live for yourself.”
“I can’t right now… but when all this is done.” He doesn’t saying for a moment, but I swear we share the same thought, is it ever done? But instead, he moves on.
“Good, now I’m sure you came here for a purpose.”
“Yes, I actually have something I want you to look at if you don’t mind.” I pass him the necklace. “I was wondering if you could tell me the age and quality of the piece and if you have seen any others similar to this?”
He takes a few minutes to examine it with a magnified glass, turning it and inspecting it from every angle. “Well, it’s not terribly old, but the quality is good; not something the average person would own. Kind of an odd piece though.”
“Why is that?”
He gives me a raised eyebrow. “Well, it is a spider…” He moves closer to the light, turning the pendant in his hand. “Now I have never seen a piece identical to this, but it does have a striking resemblance to some of the Underground tattoos I’ve seen. The bird though is another odd feature. The metal doesn’t match the rest of the pendant; I think the bird is an add-on. Probably relatively recent.” He passes it back to me.
“So you think it’s probably one of a kind?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I would guess so. I can’t see why anyone would mass produce it.” He looks up at me with a friendly smile. “It’s not a very attractive piece; kind of ugly.” He passes the necklace back to me. “I can tell you have another question for me? Spit it out, you know I won’t breathe a word about your visit here today.” Intuitive old man.
“Does the bird remind you of anything?”
“What are you thinking?” He asks me with a raised brow.
“Well, it certainly looks like the symbol used by the Girl of Shadow.”
He leans back in his chair for a moment. “I would have to agree. Very strange don’t you think?” I know he’s already connected most of the pieces in his head.
“It is.”
Chapter 31
MARGERY
“A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.”
-Marshall McLuhan
~~~
Izabel was absent from her room for most of the morning and part of the afternoon. I should have taken advantage of the space earlier in the day. Especially when she fell ill this afternoon, but too many maids come and go to do the chores I’m not charged with. It was flat out risky.
Still, I want to get something from her, even a tidbit of information could be beneficial, so I ask the cook for a plate of bread to take up to her room.
I stand outside her door knocking. When no one answers, I take it as permission to enter, figuring she’s asleep. To my surprise, I found it completely empty. The only sound comes from the music player, a soft duet of flutes.
Setting the plate on a little table, I decide it’s now or never. Who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to search again?
I skip the obvious places such as the closet, shelves, jewelry box, and desk. Having accessed them
at some point during my time as her personal maid, I know there’s nothing out of the ordinary there. I have noticed since I first began working here that the rich and power tend to have secrets places to hide their valuables. It certainly wouldn’t be odd for Izabel to keep such a place.
I feel along the white wood trim at the base of the wall, looking for a loose piece; nothing. Next, I knock along the walls and feel for seams, and check under pictures. Still, I find nothing unusual, but I don’t believe she has nothing to hide. She’s definitely hiding something. Looking about the room, I try to determine the next course of action. Having no idea how much time I have makes it hard for me to think clearly. She could step through the door at any moment.
Taking in the vastness of the room makes my search daunting. She could hide things anywhere. Since I don’t really know what I’m looking for, I’m not even sure of the size of the space required. Walking around the room, one of the floorboards creak.
The floor! An obvious, yet simple place to hide anything. Grabbing a letter opener, I drop to my knees and begin my search, using the tool to try and pry the boards up.
It takes a while, but I finally find one just under the edge of her bed.
Lifting the board, I’m more than a little surprised by what I find. I was thinking more along the lines of letters, notes, and diary. Instead, I find weapons, clothes, books, and little vials of liquid. Pulling out a few of the blades, I examine them closely. Their sharp and very well kept. Putting them aside, I pull out a black cotton cloak and find a pair of black leather pants and top. Holding up the pants, I can tell their Izabel’s size. Not too many people could fit into clothing as small as hers. I’m small, but curvy and yet I probably couldn’t even fit a single thigh in these pants.
I go through the old books next, a prized treasure that very few own. Of course, the Principessa would have her own collection. Flipping through the pages, I realize she doesn’t even have any good ones. Nothing about the old world, just books of tales. A complete waste of time in this new world.
Grabbing a vial, I bring it up closer to examine. It’s clear with no written label, just a stamp with a symbol I’m not familiar with. I pick another and look at. Its symbol is different from the first so it must be something else. I can’t say for sure what they contain, but I would guess poison of some sort. There’s no way I’m opening any of them to confirm. As I’m putting everything back the way I found it, I’m startled by a sound coming from the window behind me.
I freeze having no idea what to do. I’ve been caught snooping; a crime punishable by death. I scramble to think of something to say to the black silhouette, but words are completely lost to me.
Finally, I manage to say, “I…” until I realize my brain must have short circuited; I don’t owe an explanation to an intruder. And an intruder it must be, because anyone allowed in this room would just use the door.
The black silhouette in the window doesn’t move, just watches me.
Picking up a weapon, I stand to defend myself. The intruder must have come to kill the princess, but found me instead. Just my luck…
I wait, not a word is said or a move made.
The person turns as if to leave as if realizing I’m not who they expected. Good, he probably doesn’t want to waste the time on a maid.
The moon castes light on the intruder, highlighting what was previously concealed in show. That’s when recognition hits me. “Izabel?” The cloak, the clothes are all similar to what I’ve just found and the person’s stature is about right. It’s clear the intruder isn’t a man, but a woman with a slim figure.
She looks me dead on before jumping through the window.
I let out a shriek before I can contain myself, certain she has fallen to her death. Someone will think I’ve pushed her; how else could she have ended up on the ground with so many broken bones? Then I realize she’s not Izabel, the Principessa, like I always thought she was. I had completely and totally underestimated her… she is the Girl of Shadow. She has to be. As such, she can’t die from such a thing. The Girl of Shadow is more than just a myth, she is a living breathing girl which means at least some of the things they say about her have to be true. She can survive anything… I hope.
The bedroom door slams open. The Enforcer and the guard who is assigned to Izabel’s room walks in and my fear returns. How am I going to explain all this?
Chapter 32
IZABEL
“Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.”
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
~~~
Having to enter my room from my window located on the second floor ends up being a real pain with the injuries I’ve sustained. Each foot higher up the rock face is a true test of my climbing abilities. If I hadn’t done this at least a hundred times before and hadn’t etched each placement of my hands and feet into my brain, I’m not so certain I would have succeeded. Either way, it’s an exercise I’m not eager to repeat in the near future; especially, on a time limit due to the regular rotation of guards. They make a rotation about every twenty minutes give or take a few minutes either way, then there is the possibility that someone could be walking the gardens below, adding another factor into this already complicated entry point. It’s difficult enough on any other night without a sliced up hand and battered ribs.
I scope out my room while hanging onto the window sill, checking to make sure my bedroom door is still shut and the space is clear from my vantage point. The music I left on is still playing softly from the record player in the corner. It helps to cover up any sound I might make exiting and entering through the window so the guard won’t come looking.
Everything appears to be just the way I left it. I can never be too sure that someone hasn’t noticed my lack of presence “sick” or not. I can’t afford another night like Wednesday, when my father sent a guard to check on me and found my bed empty. It would look very suspicious. I pull myself up onto the window sill and I slip my hands underneath my already cracked window and slowly raise it to its full height before stepping through to the other side. I’m about to jump down from the window when movement catches my eye. Standing perfectly still, I take in the scene in front of me.
Margery. Cache. Weapons. She found my things. I couldn’t see her when I swept the room because she’s on the other side of my bed, on the floor.
I watch her take in my things, going over each item as if to note it in her head for later. Unable to move, I just watch her and wonder what she’s planning on doing with the information she’s gathering. Does she work for my father in another way outside of maid? Or does she work for someone else? Is it possible she’s just a snoop?
I try to figure out the best way to handle the dilemma. I consider approaching her about it, but until I know who she’s working for, I’m at a loss as to what to do. I’m not even sure if she is capable of keeping a secret.
With my bed between us, there’s still plenty I can’t see. I attempt to stand on my tiptoes. Unfortunately, the action makes me hiss in pain. Stupid ribs.
Margery turns toward me, her eyes as large as tea saucers and I can tell she’s scared.
“I…” she sounds like she’s about to apologize until something seems to click in her mind and she grabs one of my short swords off the floor. Deciding it’s time to leave, I turn my back on her.
“Izabel?” I refrain myself from responding; it wouldn’t do me any good anyway; she already knows too much. Hoping it’s all clear below, I slip out the window and for the second and hopefully the last time tonight, I leap from my second story ledge.
Unfortunately for me, my drop is less graceful than the one earlier tonight. Before I had even, solid ground, now my drop lands me in soft dirt where I twist my ankle. I should have anticipated it, but I never had to consider jumping from my own bedroom before. Biting back the pain, I make my way off the property. I need to find Fernando and explain all that’s happen
ed. He’ll tell me what to do.
Chapter 33
IZABEL
“I made decisions that I regret, and I took them as learning experiences... I'm human, not perfect, like anybody else.”
-Queen Latifah
~~~
Weaving through rundown homes, I don’t stop to catch my breath even though I’m traveling miles with an injury. I have to get to the warehouse district. I don’t bother to hide my presence from the few people on the street or worry about who might be looking out their window as I limp past. My cover’s been blown and somehow I have to fix it. Nothing is going quite right tonight.
In some ways, I already know what needs to be done. I’m just not ready to admit it to myself and if it’s the only possibility, then I want Fernando to give the order. I can’t go through with it without an order to alleviate my guilt. Fernando will tell me something like, “it’s for the good of the mission and by killing one innocent we protect my identity which could save hundreds…” Even then, I know deep down inside of me that my life isn’t worth more than hers.
I find the split in the fence, it allows me easy access to the warehouse district. I duck through it; feeling incredibly grateful I don’t have to climb it. Slowing down a bit to scan the area, I keep my pace at a steady jog, my limp making it awkward.
My mind slips back to Margery… I hope it’s too late; that she already reported it and killing her would serve no further purpose.
“By the Way, I can’t stand her! She’s not even a good person.” I whisper to the darkness. I try over and over again to rationalize it until I convince myself it’s the only course of action. Even knowing what needs to be done, I still make my way to the empty warehouse where my motorcycle is stored. I don’t usually come here, only when a mission requires the use of my bike, but I know somewhere someone is watching the building, making sure it stays secure.
The guards aren’t used to seeing anyone around here not even me. Fernando calls them off on nights he knows I’ll need it to protect my identity. They probably aren’t even aware of what they’re guarding. Their only job is to report on activity in the area. They’ll alert Fernando the minute I’m inside and then all I have to do is wait. He’ll send somebody.