Julie crouched behind the bar, adding tablespoons of water to the liquor bottles. She ignored Flann’s new pet who swept the floor. She was paler than usual, frequently asking for breaks and hid the handkerchief she coughed in. Despite her attempts to force her out, the new girl always greeted her with, what appeared to be, a genuine smile. As she swept, she adjusted her sleeve attempting to hide a purplish bruise wrapping around her wrist.

“Can I ask you something?” she began, eyeing Flann’s room, “some of the men talk, they tell me that you, you used to be me.”

Julie bit back her temper, she hated the girl but she hated Flann more. The repulsive idiot replaced her, usurping her place, and destroyed her security in one swoop. Instead of beating her when he wasn’t satisfied, he struck her if the bar lost money.

“Flann’s taste change; his habits never do. If you're wanting out, it's on you.”

“It's either this or the workhouse,” she shrugged. “Here I got a bed, a room, and meals. Can't ask for more than that.”

She was delusional, but they all are at first. How easy is it to forget, block it out and pretend? Her heart sank to her stomach, she didn't forget; her skin remembered his forceful touch. Even now she tiptoed so her steps wouldn't aggravate the whiskey-soaked louse. Every day she fought the voice that told her she wasn’t good enough.

She continued sweeping, the bristles scratching against the floor prickled her last nerve. Being in the same room as her repulsed her. But she’d sleep on the street if she started a fight. She found solace in the back alley, sitting on the dirty doorstep staring at the lopsided wall separating her from the meat shop next door. Greasy grime coated the chipped stones. She heard the chickens stuffed in their cages; but like her there was no way out. Hot tears welled in her eyes as her dreams of freedom died where many others had before. Chris left her behind. The things he said, she won’t ever forget. She cursed herself for believing he was different.

“Hey Jules! What’re ya up to?” Rhett, Flann's second in command, called from inside. His cut off shirt revealed sun tanned muscles. He was medium height and never back down from a fight. Despite his gruff manner his voice softened as he approached. She wiped the tears forming in her eyes, the last thing she wanted was for the whole world to know she was crying. He paused at the door and cleared his throat. “Well, uh, there’s a big commotion at the docks, another fire broke out last night. Uh, I was going to check it out if you wanna come.”

“What happened?”

“Dunno, but they found a lot of dead people.”

She chewed her lip, recalling Chris's playbook and the typical moonlight picnic at the cliffs. It was a favorite of his, so she knew to send Zack there. It couldn’t be a coincidence, Chris, what did you do now?

The rumours of the gruesome attack were on the lips of everyone they passed. They gossiped about a gang of radical Mages destroying the docks. Conflicting stories blamed the nobles who wanted to prevent the lower class from earning a profit from trade. One loud zealot on the corner yelled the King himself was to blame to oppress the poor. She scoffed; he was already doing that. In the distance the smoke still lingered, floating above the ship's masts.

She pushed past an annoying group of passengers who waited for the ferry to load. They spat at their feet as they insult the other passengers under their breath. Chris's voice rang through the dock, his smiling face waved in her direction. Her heart fluttered, maybe he didn't leave her after all. But the truth slammed into her like bricks. A pretty blond approached him and Zack. He wore that stupid grin she hated. She was exactly his type. But the staff. She watched them board the Ferry before Rhett tugged on her shawl urging her forward. Chris's betrayal burned, seared her more than she thought it would. There he goes, living his perfect little life. With a whore of a Mage.

Rhett pushed through the crowd in hopes of a better view, dragging her along. Through the gaps of shoulders from a pair of fish wives, they saw the empty shell of a vast warehouse. Debris littered the dock, stretching a few yards in every direction. Windows from neighbouring buildings were blown out. While larger beams flew from the source and landed into the roofs of other places. Her stomach flipped as she spied a dismembered foot hiding under charred planks. She fought the bile rising in her throat.

“Halt” a guard shoved Rhett back, forcing him in line with the front of the crowd. Soldiers in armor with swords and spears kept them at bay while others guarded canvas covered carts. Doctors, escorted by guards, picked through the debris, and dropped items in bags. At first, she thought they were collecting the valuables; but they grabbed the dismembered foot and shoved it into their sack. Like a terrible children’s “I spy” game, she noticed bits of body parts tucked into crevices.

He motioned for her to follow him before disappearing in the throng of people. She obeyed, passing local's who were so absorbed with the morbid scene, they paid no attention to her. Their hushed voices made her knees wobble, as the mass fear stuck to her bones. She tried to shake the dread sweeping over her as she reached Rhett who stood at the edge of the crowd.

“Just talked to my buddy, a friend from back in the day.”

“What's he saying?” She never questioned his endless supply of contacts. He and Flann ran the streets long before she was born.

“The Blue Blood who’s own the place ain't been found. Word is, he’s into something bad.”

“Like dead bodies kinda bad?”

“Says the guards arrived before dawn, found more than bodies.”

“Like what?”

“Weapons and cages.”

“Cages?” An unsettling feeling twisted in her stomach as she glanced at the gathering bystanders. “Did he say what’s in those cages.”

“I’m guessing it was the bodies these metal heads have been clearing out.” He nodded to a covered wagon leaving the barricade. She felt her stomach wretch and worm in on itself. Death hung over the dock like an ominous noose. A degenerate game visible for everyone to watch.

“Who owned it?”

“Word is a guy named Bayliss.” It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Not until he whispered what came next: “Flann started some business with him recently.” Him, the Blue Bloods who used that black coin worked for him. “Are you a ‘right Julie?”

“Rhett, I think Chris got mixed up in this somehow.”

“Let’s hope not. Those Blue Bloods don’t like our kind getting in the way.” He took her shaking hands in his, “how bout you head back. I'll stick around a bit.”

She wandered passed the shops and venders regretting leaving the Horse without permission. Flann was probably already in a foul mood; but if she returned with a decent haul, he may forgive her. The shady trees and neat rows of buildings reminded her of the job on Primrose. The day they caught Milo instead of her. She didn’t want to picture him in the cold damp prison. She shook her head and focused; I need a mark.

She surveyed the street from a shady bench, contemplating her next move as the morning faded into noon. The woman with a stroller, but she doubted she carried anything worth while. She ain't out spending her husband's coin and a crying baby’s bad for business. The elderly man in an outdated jacket was tempting, he may fall for the damsel angle. But then again, his walk with a wobbly cane and barely saw over the rim of his glasses. What if he collapsed right there from the shock of it all? She wasn't having that on her hands. Milo was more likely to get out sooner or later as a petty thief. If she went in as a murderer, she won't see the light of day again.

She chose a clumsy young man who stepped out of a confectionary store. He tripped over an uneven step littering the sidewalk with pink peppermint swirl candies. His purse hung from his pocket begging her to give it a better home. As she approached, a glossy carriage with two black horses caught her eye. She watched a man in tailored clothes and polished shoes step onto the sidewalk. His clean-shaven face hidden by the brim of his black hat.

He adjusted his glasses, sliding them up his nose. He was thin and pale; and his features reminded her a of a dangerous snake slithering on the sidewalk. Dismissing the mark, she followed the wealthy man to a bookstore. When he paused to browse the selection on a table outside the shop; she did too. He smelled of dust, ink, and parchment.

She took inventory of the silver buttons on his coat and the pocket watch. He will do. The carriage remained parked; she only had a few moments before he was due back. Following him to the alley between the flower shop and tailor, she drew the small knife she carried. Linking her arm through his, she poked her knife into his back.

“Let’s go this way.” He didn’t say anything but followed her directions into the dark alley. “Give me what you got, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events.” She didn't care for his tone. She slammed him against the building, pointing the blade at his throat.

“Give me your money, now.” Despite her efforts, he wasn’t frightened. In fact, his grey eyes regarded her, as if she was a toy to play with.

“I’m impressed, Miss Thief. Your kind have learned, rather quickly to keep their distance from me. You either missed the dispatch or you are an idiot.”

“Just give me everything in your pockets and we can both call it a day, my lord.” He pursed his lips, a mischievous look danced in his eyes, making her blood run cold. She pressed the knife to his throat; hard enough to draw blood. But he didn't flinch.

“Do you know what I do to your people? I have them arrested and thrown into the Tower. Then after a few days when the guards had their fill, I give them to my associates. That is where the fun begins.”

“Do your worse.” She pressed the knife harder, repeating her demand. Whatever this man imagined doing to her was nothing compared to what she suffered under Flann. They stood in silence, her heart racing into her throat. Blood pulsed in her veins, never has she felt so alive as she faced her death. Then a dangerous smile creased his lips.

Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it until the knife dropped with a clatter. She felt her bones shift, she inhaled, any movement he’d snap it. She tensed under his iron grip; but she couldn’t escape. His fist slammed into her gut; a scream escaped her throat as he shoved her into discarded dumps of garbage. How fitting she’d die in a pile of trash— Chris would have called it poetic.

“Do you have a name Miss Thief?”

“Julie,” she coughed, pushing her hair from her face.

“Well Julia, you found me on a very special day. I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m not doing that stuff today,” she grunted as she stood.

“You misunderstand, I have been recently made aware that my business may benefit from an assistant. Since I detest most people, and the rest are frightened of me, I feel you may be able to solve my problem.” She knew what ‘assistant’ meant to the likes of him. “I do not imply the meaning you are assuming.” He managed a laugh that was almost human. “A real assistant. To work for me, file paperwork, fetch things, and talk with clients.”

“And you pay me?”

“Yes, a fair price, you will be required to live near the office. Whatever doorway you sleep in now will have to change.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I am horrible to work for, unfriendly, particular, I have strict rules and I expect you to follow them to the letter. Plus, my business may be less reputable but we all start in the shadows do we not?”

“How do I know this isn’t some pretext to keep me in some cage and torture me?”

He pulled a crisp card from his inner coat pocket. It read: LORD E.J. SEXTON. COLLECTOR and SCHOLAR. She flipped the card over, noticing the thick expensive type of card used. The address was in a decent neighbourhood.

“Why should I do this? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I need an assistant; you clearly need a decent meal and better prospects. As for me not knowing you, I know enough. You aren’t afraid to go after what you want and you suffer from unfaltering determinism. That will get you far in my type of business. I propose this, you can work for me, a legitimate business, or you can remain in the gutter like a street rat. It makes no difference to me, I am sure I can find someone else, but I thought I would offer it to you.”

The next morning, she stepped out of Sexton’s carriage and faced the Painted Horse for the last time. Her whole life it the place felt small. As the sun rose over the tops of the slanted roofs, it appeared as a giant before her. Every obstacle, insecurity, and fear loomed over her as she stood in its shadow. The horse tapped his hoof over the cobblestone. A reminder that her employer waited in the carriage. It's now or never.

Rhett sat at the empty bar while shuffling his faded deck of cards. When she entered, he stared a bit longer than he usually did. She was adjusting to her new wardrobe; never had she owned anything as soft and exquisite. The new girl swept broken glass into a dustpan; her greeting cut short by yelling echoing from upstairs. Furniture shuddered over the floor before slamming against the walls. Flann's swears followed, reverberated against the closed door.

“Damn Julie, did you rob some Blue Blood last night?” Her hand ran over the maroon velvet dress, and silk sash. Her hair was fashionably pinned with black and ivory beads. She wore black lace gloves and carried a parasol like the fancy women on Primrose.

“So glad for yer highness to grace us with yer presence” Flann's descended the stairs like a raging bull with fists and teeth clenched.

“I’m, I’m done here,” she stammered, fearing the receiving end of his temper.

“Is that right? What’s a whore like you going to do if I say no?”

“I’m leaving.” She said again, a little louder than before. He was inches from her face, and the gin seeped into her nose. The animalistic fury in his eyes made her tremble. The loud crack echoed and her face stung as she hit the floor.

“I OWN YOU!”

“Now Boss don’t—” Rhett interjected, but Flann punched him in the face.

“I own you!” he yelled at her again, “you belong to me! You're nothing without me!”

His fists rushed towards her, but Rhett stepped in, taking a punch to the gut. He gripped his wrists, using his weight to force Flann backwards; but the pudgy form resisted. Red face and frothing at the mouth, the boss kicked; smashing Rhett’s knee. He went for another one but Rhett hooked his leg with his foot; sending his boss crashing into an empty table. He groaned as he crawled from under the boards and splinters. Rhett offered her his hand; her knees trembled as she stood. But she fought to keep her composure. Refusing to show weakness in front of him; she pulled her purse from her waist.

“Here’s what I owe. I’m done.” She spat at him, dumping the glittering coins at his feet. She tossed the empty bag for good measure before turning to leave.

He rushed at her with a crazed look in his eyes, but the door swung open illumining the dim room in sunshine. Flann scrambled to a halt as Sexton's silhouette filled the door frame. Fear washed over his hairy face; for the first time in her life, he was scared.

“Julia. I have a schedule to keep.” She nodded, following her employer, but Flann's iron grip on her wrist pulled her back.

“Yer messed up with 'im?” his temper snarled, “you sure do pick ‘em, girl. After he’s done with you, you’ll wish yer were back with me.”

“I rather die by his hand, than live under yours,” she yanked herself free renouncing him for the last time.

Sexton opened the carriage door for her, for the first time she felt like someone of value. He sat across from her and scribbled in a pocket notebook. The carriage jerked and the horses went on their way. She wished she'd miss them, but there was nothing for her there.

“My Lord, what do you want me to do, exactly?”

“I already told you,” His eyes glued to his page. "Assist me with the daily chores of running a business, specifically acquiring sponsors.”

“So, sell myself to your clients?”

“Sell my ideas, my products, and my name. A respectable woman puts men at ease but you are not naïve enough for them to exploit you. Your old life is gone, in fact, I recommend you abstain from selling your personal attributes to our clients. However, your free time is yours. If, however, your behaviour reflects poorly on my ventures then I will fulfill my threat from yesterday.”

“What are these business ventures exactly?”

“What is your opinion on Mages?”

In the past she treated them with indifference; tolerating their existence until they became an obstacle. But her heart burned as she pictured the Mage Chris ran off with. She took the only man she ever cared about and for that she wanted to cut her flawless face.

“I want them to die a painful death.”

“Do as I say, and that can become a reality.”

To be continued....