Needle pierced flesh, the thread pulled through red and slick. Tes’ lips cracked and dry between her fingers, twitching as she completed the stitch and tied the knot with finality. Gone was his ability to scream, to speak. Gone his ability to say things he shouldn’t. A lesson to be learned.
The rest of the Iron Rosie stood, solemn and resolved. Willow, her hands gouged by her nails, eyes red from tears. She had been offered first rights to the needle, but had refused. To take another’s voice anathema to her despite her anger. Chum, shield and weapon at the ready. Unexpected enforcer. Moss’s blue eyes cool and impassive, drops of water in a stony face. Tes’ breath huffed across the back of her bloody fingers as she cut the final string, dark eyes gleaming with pain.
It was not the first time she’d hurt him, nor would it be the last, but it was the first time they’d labeled it crew justice. The first time they’d done it together.
“Lady Luck bring them back. Lady Luck please.” The altar was wet beneath her clasped hands. The ground rough beneath her knees.
“Lady Luck bring them back. Lady Luck please.”A mantra whispered to the darkness. There was a time she had danced with Death, a time she had given up her Luck to regain a life. In this moment she would give it all up again to get them back safely. An offering. Yes, that was what was needed. Frantically she searched through her pockets, came up empty and laughed bitterly.
“I am the worst Vegasian. Not a single Brass.” Chin uplifted to Chum, the candlelight shimmering tear tracks on her cheeks. “Washed up. Not enough.”
He frowned his concern and tried to press a lead note into her hand. “You are enough.” Warm glowing fingers held her own gently. A hand on her veiled head radiated concern.
“No, no, too much.” Symbols were important. A coin for luck. The one bartering chip she knew how to give up. It had to be done correctly.
“He will blame me.” she sobbed, “They said his mouth was cut open when they found him.” Cut open to scream? Freed too late?
“He won’t.” Chum lied.
“Here.” Cobie handed her a brass and she breathed a thank you to the Iron and placed it on the altar.
“Lady Luck bring them back. Lady Luck please.” The offering was made, now she just had to wait and see if it was accepted by the Lady. This time there was no Ace of Spades to borrow from Ynk to replace her Luck. This time there was no Death to murder to get it back. She was on her own, but they would be safe.
The Nemeses loped from the treeline. The pack fanning out, keen eyes tracking her as she scurried across the field. It had been a while since the darkness hadn’t been her friend, since she’d been cornered like a rat in a gutter. The taste of fear flooded her mouth with nostalgia, dried her tongue, the stench-memory of Vegasia in her nostrils as she placed her back against the chain link fence.
“Evening.” her dagger outstretched in her palm with her greeting. Psycho Mike’s pale, sunken cheeks slid to her right, a man in black stepped to her left, and in the distance, the cold dead eyes of Pumpkin Sam, the slow clicking of his knives-for-hands the only response to her tremulous greeting. Silence filled the night.
Then, violence.
The man in the black mask lunged, sweeping her legs to break her knees. She dodged and pivoted to run but he was right behind her. Blow after blow smashed into her weapon as she turned to fight, fast strikes whistling past her ears. She dropped to the ground, hoping that by going limp and still they would leave, bored with prey that neither fought nor ran.
No such luck.
Cold hands pried her weapon from her fingers, searched her pockets, checked her pulse. Long seconds passed. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. Surely he could hear it too. Her ruse discovered, the burning blade of his weapon slashed across her torso, stabbed into her neck, the point pressing against her sternum as the killer pressed the tip into her heart. She screamed then, fear gripping her throat and squeezing her voice into startled shrieks in the night. She begged shamelessly.
“Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything.” Her fingers scrabbled for purchase, tried to shove his blade away, cutting deep on the burning edge. Her killer was leaning on the weapon, pinning her like a snake beneath a rock. She scratched uselessly at his wrists and then slid her hand to her pocket, slamming the needle hidden there into her thigh, the sweet drug flooding through her system, giving her the strength to shove him away. She tried to crawl, stumbling to her feet, took one step, than another.
Burning pressure. She looked down as his blade entered her back and emerged from her chest, glistening with fire and blood. It was harsh, and it was sudden, and it was done.
The Vegasian fell to the side of the path, her body hidden in shadow. Unseen, unwitnessed, unaware of the oblivious footsteps that passed her corpse.
Slowly, bit by bit, minute by minute, the dark tendrils wrapped around her limbs. Gently, the earth enfolded her body, a mother embracing her long-lost daughter.
She sank.
She was pointing downwards in a space that had no up nor down. She was falling, silently, gracelessly. Slimy green glass sped past her not-eyes, slid past her unfeeling fingertips. Her shoulders crashed into the layers of not-silt. Water rose, seeping and slow, covered her body. Somewhere far above, lightning flashed through an ocean. A slow tolling of a distant bell.
No, a voice.
Rich and strange, familiar but changed. The laughter of Death. A Lady this time. Gold and Red and Green flickered behind Rajah’s not-eyes. A sudden moment of clarity, and then the heavy settling of dullness across her mind once more. What was it she had remembered? No matter. It was gone.
Do you want to go back? The voice came from her soul. From a thousand thousand souls. A million shining stars above a gleaming desert.
“I don’t know.”
You were not enough. Death mocked. You know this. So, what will you give this time?
She could not strike the bargain she had previously. Her Luck was already spent. What else did she have?
What will you give? the Lady demanded.
“My Ambition.”
Then I take it from you. And this as well.
Cold fingers reached into her spine, collected her payment, scraped fingernails along the surface of her memories, scratched out the eyes of those she cared for.
Hooks of glass scraped the pieces of her flesh together. Reknit her bones. Shattered her teeth and re-set them once more. Slammed her through the glass and mud and water upwards upwards upwards.
She was flung into existence once more, teeth chattering, lungs heaving. Reborn into the starless night with a burning truth deep in her soul.
She was not enough.
There’s a ghost, she’s wearin’ my face
At parties being introduced with my name
Just a skeleton of bones, wearing nothing but clothes
And she is paralyzingThe human soul is a treacherous place
Beneath the mask we wear a dark and twisted labyrinth laid
Secrets locked and closets closed never surface
While we keep composed come out of hidingOh, oh, oh
There’s a sound, it’s haunting my dreams
Like children laughing in the distance and I don’t know what it means
Am I afraid to be alone, that nobody will ever know
This death I’m dying?Oh, oh, oh
There’s a heartbeat under my floorboards
Charging me guilty and I don’t know what for
There’s a black bird over my door singing nevermore
Nevermore, nevermore, nevermoreOh, oh, oh
Always A Good Bet: A Dystopia Rising Fanfiction Blog 