Slumping against the car window wasn't doing the throbbing in Rae's head any favours, but she didn't have many options left. They were deep in the centre of the island now and only the faded two-wheeled dirt track they were following indicated any direction in the lush green plains, distant hills and unrestrained forests. Something that becomes so rare a few miles in any direction that you forget it existed.
“You going to tell me where we’re going?” She asked the preoccupied Ciaran in the driver’s seat next to her. After she got no reply she rolled her head over to him with a half-awake attempt at an expectant face. His eyes were less shadowed and his skin was more of an actual skintone than it had been the other day; he’d fared better at recovering from the radiation poisoning than her but he was still frowning at something. Not majorly, but enough to make his bottom lip to pucker and tighten. Something she’d come to notice as an indication of his brain over-clocking.
“You haven’t said a word since we left two hours ago, the car isn’t bugged you know.” She said.
Ciaran unresponsive again, she turned to the locked gun compartment in front of her and pondered for the fifteenth time what would be the quickest way to break into it. She had no idea when it had last been used for gloves and the usual junk, probably before The Cloud. It would be empty, as much of a robust white tank this vehicle was she knew they’d gotten the one due for repairs just from the muffled sound of a dying cow it made every time they went over a rock, but it was something to think of. The last time she’d been in the front seat of one of these it had not been very good for the driver.
“We’re going to Rethsbridge.” Ciaran spoke, jolting Rae out of her mental apology to the guard who she’d kicked out of a moving car whilst handcuffed. “There’s no point in changing from our original plan to shake them off, we’ll just dump the car before we get too close to anywhere.” He started to look at her more as he emerged from his own reverie, breaking off every time she returned the look in a confused way. “Besides, if we need to find The Nine then we need to talk to Damond even more than before.”
He then abruptly decided that they’d come to the ideal spot to dump the car, despite Rae not seeing much difference between here and the last 500 yards. He pulled the car onto the grass to their right, it tilted as it went into a small ditch and creaked as he pushed a button and wrenched the wheel to put it into a permanent halt, but it stayed put. “You ready?” He asked.
Rae pulled open the gun compartment after only taking five seconds to wrench the rusted catch free. She snorted with an uncanny smile as she found a lone coin inside and pocketed it eagerly. “Yep.” She confirmed and closed the compartment back up. Ciaran took the slightly muddy way around to the road while Rae had to jump down from hers. The jarring landing made her eyes smart and breathe in sharply as she clutched her ribs and rapidly reeled off every curse word she knew. Once the pain had passed she straightened up quickly, despite the disorienting rush of gravity and fresh air, and their doors slammed shut unanimously. She thanked all the curse words again that the car enabled her to hide her grimace before they reunited to continue up the road.
“You sure this is the right thing to do?” Rae asked, leisurely walking backwards to observe the forlorn abandoned vehicle.
“They’ll pick it up as soon as they can be bothered to check the tracking system, you know that.” He replied absently again, not noticing her attempts to get him into conversation.
They walked on what Rae now noticed was actually a long hill. Ciaran was frowning at the ground with his hands in his pockets and appeared to be faintly muttering to himself. When they got to the top of the incline Rae realised his plan, there was a crossroads she hadn’t noticed before. She smiled, the Island Guard would have no idea which way they went and the road had dried out far too much for footprints. Then she halted in the middle.
Ciaran obliviously strode up the road leading south and only turned when the arcing movement of her arm caught his eye. Some tiny object was catapulted a good few yards down the west road and a small satisfactory smile eased across her face as it rolled into a grassy ditch next to the road.
“What was that?” He asked, a little dumbfounded by the spontaneity of it.
“Tracking chip, idiots tried to pull the old penny under the rug on us.”
He nodded slowly at the red herring she’d thrown. “And you think the good Captain will fall for that?”
Rae sent him a dry look as she passed him and resumed their journey again. “I was with him for years, of course I know he will.”
He snorted, smiling wryly. After extending his pace for a few steps he soon caught up with her and descended into preoccupied silence again. She watched the horizon innocently, on which the shadow of Rethsbridge’s walls was slowly becoming visible. A poorly-hidden smile played on her lips as she waited in the silence.
It wasn’t long before he broke it, unable to stand whatever was troubling him after the abrupt break of action. He turned to her and pulled an enquiring face as he chose how to phrase his words. She smugly closed her eyes and waited to be addressed, however, her victory was short-lived.
“Why would a doctor say ‘congratulations’ to you?” He asked.
She jerked and her eyes snapped open, suddenly more alert than she had been all day. She looked at Ciaran and he was genuinely puzzled, she couldn’t find any hint of jest on him no matter how hard she tried. “That’s what you’ve been silent about all this time?!” She exclaimed, trying to make her incredulity more prominent than her uneasiness.
“Well it is a weird thing…to say…” He began to examine her entire body more intently than he had before. “And you’ve been acting a little strange lately…I mean there’s the worrying and the weird fighting and…”
She was avoiding meeting his eyes completely now. She picked up the pace but of course that didn’t stop him, his long legs let him crab-waltz to the side of her while still examining every angle, from the length of her hair to the size of her feet. He pretended not to linger for a moment longer than he should have on her behind.
“You’re not exactly the same either.” She retorted, crossing her arms over her body defensively when his intent staring became too prolonged. The movement drew his attention to her midriff and he frowned further. He ignored her protests , he was onto something.
Then it hit him.
He halted right in the middle of the road, watching Rae rapidly walk on in front of him. He frowned more, shook his head, he laughed at himself, he waited for a similar laugh from Rae to prove how silly he was being. She only looked out the corner of her eye over her shoulder very quickly, slowing her pace and focusing on the ground in front of her. His jaw dropped.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
She stopped and he saw her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed. The laugh he was waiting for wasn’t happening.
“Wait, you are?” He reiterated, completely serious now as he strode up to her. She looked to the side of her with a little nervous titter and a shrug. “You’re pregnant?” He asked again, softer and completely in shock. Rae wasn’t sure who he was asking now. He staggered back a few steps and rubbed the back of his neck in a daze, then focused on her again. “How- how long…?”
“About three or four months now,” She nodded and rocked back on her heels. “I found out a few days after you left. Was puking for a month.” She chuckled briefly and he shook his head slowly.
“We-we’re going to be parents?” He asked weakly, but the corners of his slackened mouth were inching up.
“Yes!” She laughed, his disbelief was echoed by the giddy beam spreading across her face. He rubbed his face with his hand and breathily laughed along with her, held her head in his hands and roughly pulled her to him with the brightest grin she’d seen in months.
So dazed, he didn’t pull away until she finally pushed against his chest.
“Who said anything about ‘we’ anyway?” She looked up at him sceptically. “As soon as it’s born you’ll be wanting to get back to work and use it as a decoy!”
“That’s actually not a bad idea…” He nodded thoughtfully until she glared at him. “Hey, you came up with it first!” He smirked, then events suddenly caught up with him again and he held her at arms’ length in alarm. “Wait, we just went through all that radiation and you didn’t tell me?!”
Rae shook his hands off her arms. “If we hadn’t we’d be dead anyway. I’m- the baby’s fine, Marty ‘discreetly’ told me himself.”
“So that’s what all that winking was about…” He mused and she cuffed his shoulder in jest. With an inclination of her head they resumed walking again, Ciaran continuously muttering “You’re pregnant,” to himself at various intervals with shakes of his head.
Rae looked at him half in amusement and half in concern, by the fifth one she’d had enough. “Yeah. So, any reason why you’re taking this so easily?” She asked, glancing at the nearing Rethsbridge in the distance.
“What, fatherhood?” He asked incredulously, almost choking on his words.
“No, idiot, I can tell you’re already going crazy. I mean being at the beck and call of the citadel, usually I’d be hearing a double-crossing plan right now.”
“Oh.” He grunted and stretched his arms out behind him in the sun. “Well as far as I see it we don’t really have a choice. If we don’t do it, we die. If we do… We probably won’t die. This reward had better be worth it though because there’s no way we’ll get work again after what we’ll have to do to get The Nine on our side.” He turned his eyes to the left and laughed at Rae’s still sceptical expression. “OK, we can’t kill the Captain but nobody said anything about making it easy for him…”
“We are not killing him.” She enunciated sternly.
“Okay okay! Just, potentially maiming… Look, we do what we have to do, cash in every favour to our names possible, make our asses the most wanted things on the island, get the money and disappear until everybody forgets we existed. It’s our average job!”
“Except the part where all our lives depend on it.”
Ciaran winced. “Details, that’s not our job anyway, we just get the simpleminded heroes where they need to be.”
“Speaking of…” Rae nudged him and nodded in the direction of an island guard staring at them. He was in front of a checkpoint set outside the gates to Rethsbridge. “Think The Mask’s order to be forgetful will have gotten out this quickly?”
“Damn they got that up fast.” Ciaran groaned. He spent a few steps frowning and biting his lips in thought, then he grabbed her hand. “Laugh.”
“On command?” She laughed incredulously, but before she realised the trick he’d yanked her off the road and they were running hand-in-hand through the muddy grass around the Rethsbridge outskirts.
The guard sitting inside the makeshift checkpoint booth with his feet on the booth’s opening looked up from his clipboard as they ran past his range of sight. “Did you see those two?” He asked, jerking his chin in their direction.
“Just another lovesick couple.” The guard who’d spotted them sighed and took position to block a delivery truck rumbling up the road. “Probably locals, when will this place learn what a checkpoint means?”
“Can’t live without ‘em.” The other sighed and flicked over the next page on his clipboard to mark down the next lot of traffic.
A wall of mahogany wooden pikes surrounded Rethsbridge, completely laminated with fire-proof solution of course. Anything was rarely ever raw materials anymore. They were a contrast to the stone buildings of the city and cast a dull shadow over them, but anything colourful beyond the border of the Northern cities was rare; with all the despair and work around the island there was simply no point or time in decoration. Which is why the pikes were only maintained around the main industrial and entrance areas from thieves and raiders, around the outer and rougher residential areas nobody cared.
Rae and Ciaran entered there, winding through the shadows of the pale and rough stone buildings where nobody batted an eyelid at a young couple sneaking out.
Rae stuck behind him like a second pair of eyes as they went through the fourth row of closely scattered houses, each row they went through looked better in appearance, or rather just had less patchwork repairs on them, but had people more inclined to stare at them. As they turned into the final alley golden light blinded their eyes and flooded their squints with an orange haze. They straightened up and their walks morphed into those of normal citizens, it was only a second before they lowered their hands from their eyes and stepped out into the stream.
The day-to-day routines of the entire city surrounded them in the forms of countless flurries of people on either side of them, not caring to look beyond their own feet at the new entrants. Rae looked up to find that the source of the light was a reflection bouncing off the dark, dirty glass of a stunted corporate tower on the other side of the street. Normal daylight, overcast and bleak, echoed the dull clothing and outlooks of its citizens. These were the people. So many bedraggled and homeless lay, sat, cried or were shunted onto the pavements that to see the grey paving beneath them was refreshing. Island Guards were employed to keep them in a stream of movement but with their vehicles unable to move in the throng it was an impossible feat so instead they realistically set themselves to small groups, leaving hundreds lost, scattered and alone.
“Well this is Rethsbridge,” Ciaran said as he scanned everything happening around them. “Suffocating as ever.” He muttered as they were shunted into eachother’s backs and away again.
Disoriented, Rae was looking directly at the unusual amount of homeless. Those who weren’t being roughly handled and shouted at by Island Guard were standing around, one little girl holding her stuffed rabbit had made her way into the oblivious crowd and was crying for her mother, ignored by everyone. She frowned, it seemed just like a very long time ago… She shook her head and stepped back.
“Isn’t this the largest city closest to the shield now?” She asked, her eyebrows knotting together.
“One of them.” Ciaran muttered, looking at them as he followed her train of thought. These were the survivors. The ones who’d run. Then a man screaming in despair at the guards surrounding him began to be beaten down. Anger flashed in his eyes but then it turned into passivity. He tugged Rae’s shoulder and pulled her away into the throng. “Come on, there’s nothing we can do.”
Rae resisted mildly but as the man disappeared beneath the guards so did they. The crowd absorbed them and following the flow they had reached the other side of the street and vanished behind the murky dark glass building and the grander but dishevelled stone ones around it. They were navigating the quieter streets and alleys again, but more downheartedly this time.
Ciaran hadn’t let go of her hand the entire time.
Tucked behind tall, once-important buildings and squashed between both slum-like and prosperous homes was the safe house. Though four stories high it was completely underwhelming, there was barely a shoulder’s breadth between the ‘white’ picket fence and the next building. The yard was mainly cracked stone and gravel, the little grass it had was unevenly overgrown, weedy and an off-khaki colour. Like all the buildings around it, its coarse stone walls that were begging you to brush against so it could relieve you of a few skin layers were a slate grey that hinted at being a heather blue once upon a time, and the ground floor windows were boarded up.
It was very easy to walk past even if you were combing the entire city for it. They almost did until they noticed the old woman sitting in the rusted white garden chair amongst the weeds outside it.
Rae nudged Ciaran back as they were about to pass the pathway that went past it and he spun back on his heel without missing a beat. Hands firmly by their sides, they were all business as they strode up and into the yard. Only Rae used the surprisingly not squeaky gate properly, Ciaran just swung over it.
The old woman was either ignoring them or too absorbed in her knitting to hear them, but was nonetheless a threat as she was positioned right next to the door. Rae realised neither of the former were true as she noticed the telltale flickering of the old woman’s eyelashes beneath black hair drained to an ashen grey like the buildings around her. She wasn’t even old, fifty at most. Ciaran just liked to call her that as everything about her suggested it.
Once she decided they were close enough her head snapped up like somebody possessed, scowling black beads beneath thin, dark grey arched wisps examining and disapproving of every inch of them. The knitting continued.
Ciaran raised his hands in a sign of peace. “Moira it’s us, the whiz kids off that stinking boat!” He grinned, his mouth contorting in a poor mockery of her Scottish accent.
She scowled. More so. “I know who you are, Ciaran Felix.” She sniffed and glared at the waistband of his dirty cargo pants despite the fact they weren’t anywhere near low.
“Then let us past.” He suggested, raising his palms in indication to the door. When only silence met him he dropped the pose and turned serious. “We need to speak with your husband.”
Moira turned to glare at Rae something most foul then. “You can go, but not her.”
Rae took a stunned step back and Ciaran’s solemnity turned to outrage. “What?!” He asked, not quite believing his ears.
“She’s a Leon.” Moira stated it evenly but couldn’t stop her lip curling on the name.
“Was a Leon.” Ciaran corrected, his eyes sparking dangerously.
“Once a Leon, always a Leon.” Was the ? reply.
She was impossibly stubborn, they both knew that. “Ciaran it’s fine, I’ll wait outside-” Rae tried to reassure him.
He ignored her, he was losing it now. Smiling incredulously through bared teeth: “Do you have any idea just how much you and your husband owe to us,”
“Ciaran!” Rae barked. He paid attention this time, if baffled at her passivity. “We don’t come to the mainland often, it’s not her fault she’s not familiar with us.” She was peacefully edging closer to Moira to get closer to his line of sight, the cranky woman was looking smug until Rae suddenly span on her and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. “But you’re familiar with my talents from the Island Guard, right? Well,” Moira suddenly flashed out a gun she’d been hiding under her knitting but Rae was like lightning, clamping her hand over the woman’s before she could reach the trigger. “I have your name and, oh, look,” she twisted her hand hander until the gun fell to the floor and Moira’s fingers were exposed to her glove. “I now have your prints. Let me through that door or I will make you the most wanted person on the island, the Guard will never get off your ass.”
Moira’s collar was released and Rae stepped back politely to return her personal space. It took Moira moments of gawking and gulping to process what had just happened, even looking to Ciaran for back-up. Rae’s partner in crime was as surprised as she was but completely stout in his expression and supportive/cool stance behind Rae, other than tightly pressed lips poorly trying to hide back a smirk.
Rae flashed her eyebrows up at the door and it finally kick-started Moira into action. Hatred fumed through her eyes, her ears turned pink and the few loose strands of her bun shook. Her mouth gaped open and shut like a fish but eventually realised nothing she said would turn out in her favour. Instead she huffed out her chest at Rae as high as it would go, which made Ciaran have to look away to keep a straight face as Moira was almost a head shorter than her, squinted so much that only an eyelash’s width was left for her to see through and marched them to the door, stiffly picking up her gun as she passed it.
Following Moira’s huffy and angry-hip-shaking path, Ciaran gave Rae a congratulatory clap on her shoulder as he passed her, pausing to lean in for a moment.
“You know you can be really scary sometimes.” He murmured, his grin flashing in the shadow of her hair before he jumped ahead to slide in the door before Moira could decide to slam it on their faces.
“And you just love it.” She muttered back, knowing he’d heard it by the way he gaily hopped through the door.
Stepping in she was focusing on the dark wood décor of the upside-down L shaped room inside instead of directly next to her, where Moira was waiting to shut the door and shove her into the dusty corner between the door and the wall. Taken off guard by her sudden surprisingly bony mass, with a muffled gasp Rae’s left side chafed against the rough stone that continued from the outside walls. Mission completed, Moira stomped self-righteously ahead of them to warn her husband of their despicable arrival.
“She’s becoming more like the walls every year.” Rae grunted as she rubbed her grazed arm.
“Hm?” Ciaran asked, only half looking back.
“Determined to relieve you of your skin.” She clarified and Ciaran chuckled, reaching back to put an arm around her left shoulder. Then his smile grew as it only made her squirm and wince even more.
She ducked away from him with a wounded look at his betrayal, jumping back to keep an obvious gap between them as they approached the bend in the room. “You’re evil.” She scolded, shaking her head in shame and keeping her arm away from him.
“It’s subjective.” He shrugged, flashing a grin again until Moira stuck her head back around the corner with even more disapproval.
She pursed her lips. “Did you want to see Damond or not?” She sniffed.
Ciaran theatrically mouthed “Okay” and indicated they were following her by moving at his own pace instead of the one he’d been using to accommodate her and Rae, catching up with her in three steps. Then she bustled away to the stairs at full speed just to get away from him.
The stairs were simple, dark hardwood like the rest of the sporadic panelling throughout the room and littered with abandoned papers and scrap objects that were intelligible with the low lighting from the few gaps in the boarded windows. What wasn’t wood panelling was faded blue wallpaper peeling away from the walls to reveal degrading patchy linoleum that had long lost its colour. Three wooden doors were dotted around the room and a doorframe crackling with a fading screen curtain scavenged from a raided Island Guard outpost.
Ciaran was steadily taking the stairs three at a time but Rae quickly caught up with him with a few hops. Stopping halfway down the hall of the second floor, Moira gave them both the evil eye before disappearing into one of the doors that appeared to have started becoming an off-green as they went further along. It’s hard to tell in the dark. Moira swiftly closed the door with a resolute thud behind her, but not before Ciaran gave her an innocent wave close to his chest.
“Stop trying to piss her off even more!” Rae hissed as she bobbed up behind his shoulder.
“You started it.” He retorted and she rolled her eyes as they tried to hear what was being said from the stairs. It was no use, the flimsy looking doors were surprisingly soundproof. “Besides, the old hag-” Ciaran had started to say in disregard but just at that moment both Moira, looking even sourer than before, and her husband came through the door and he painfully dragged it out into: “aaaamond! We’ve been looking for you!”
The extremely weak come-back was lost on his friend, as he was completely aghast at the sight of them. Damond was wearing a tan leather jerkin over a blue sweater with far too many pockets, pouches and zippers sewn into it. He was almost as rotund as his wife but was at least as tall as Rae. With a warm, neutral voice, hints of his dockworker origins becoming clearer as he got more stressed, he exclaimed as they hesitantly ascended the rest of the stairs: “Ciaran?!” He was agitatedly looking behind them, despite it being his own house. “Oh and Rae dear,” He added when she halted at Ciaran’s side.
“Oh, she gets ‘dear’?” Ciaran joked but was looking too wary of Damond’s reaction to pull it off.
He got nothing but confusion from them, Rae seemed to start to say something but he noticed Moira’s intense glaring, now eager for them to receive his disapproval too, and ushered them into his office before she could.
Rae was leaning backwards from the sudden push on her back and Ciaran was dragged in by the arm, Damond slammed the door shut before Moira could tell what was happening and leant against it to recover from the brief exertion.
As soon as you were within the inner doors the rundown hovel of a house turned into the definition of ‘safe house.’ The padded, cream walls were veneer and the windows reinforced with four layers of the type of glass that adorned the citadel’s cells. The ‘wooden’ desk that faced them was undoubtedly fitted with several panic buttons, controls and communication radios. There was an interface for them on the wall, though blank at the moment the most used areas were slightly burned into the screen. You got the feeling the room could withhold a nuclear explosion and yet, even it wasn’t immune to decay. The desk was slightly wonky and the reinforced padding on the walls were scraping away to reveal the dull, silver metal behind it; the screen on the wall was filled with scratches and the headboard above the door was worn away so much Rae could see the metal shield inside it waiting to be slammed down.
Ciaran was looking around weakly. It had been many years since they’d both taken their first jobs from this room, and he wasn’t liking all the flashbacks.
Damond span around and confronted them both in front of the desk. “What are you doing here?!” Damond hissed, his eyes despairing at the both of them for an answer. “I don’t know what you were thinking with your stunts in Carthinon – oh yeah, Barns was telling me all about those, but this is the biggest hotspot for Island Guard outside of the capital! The entire force hears your big speech and you come to my doorstep?” He started out outraged, but he ended up more incredulous at their behaviour.
“We need your help,” Ciaran sighed.
“No, you can’t stay here. I’m sorry you two but I need to keep this safehouse actually safe for anybody who needs it.” Damond sighed, it was regretful but resigned, this was not the first time.
“Look at us, Damond!” Ciaran snapped and for the first time, he did.
Now that they were in a fully lit room the full extent of their appearances was revealed. The grey pallor and circles under their eyes had returned, the wound on Ciaran’s head was bruising nastily out from his hairline to his forehead, whatever painkillers Rae had been given were long vanished and she was trying not to look like she was wheezing and leaning on the desk’s corner for support. Trying to hide his guilty twinge, Damond walked around to the window at the back of the room.
“We’ve been detoxed for radiation poisoning and had five hours of drugged sleep in two days, we can’t go anywhere else.” He pleaded across the desk, paused for breath then shook a finger over his shoulder at Rae. “And she’s pregnant.”
Damond span around with eyes like saucers at that, if he hadn’t have seen Rae’s quick fire glare of outrage at Ciaran he’d never have believed it.
“Look,” Ciaran started a little faster before Rae could lunge on him. “Nobody followed us here. The Mask promised us anonymity from the Guard,”
Damond spluttered. “The Mask? You’re taking bribes from the citadel now?!” He shook his head, looking like he was wondering if it was really Ciaran and Rae standing in front of him. “What happened to you guys?” He whispered.
Rae shrugged helplessly. “We got caught.”
Damond’s grey-streaked short black quiff shook. “I told you it was going to happen one day, nobody can go alone forever.”
“Yeah, well now we’re not.” Ciaran looked down strenuously as the worst was yet to come. He toyed with the words in his head but eventually decided to just break it simply to the already tortured Damond. “We need to find The Nine.”
He was beyond disbelief now. “What?” Damond demanded dangerously. “No, no. You are not using me to direct a vendetta against The Nine just to save your own skins.”
“Nobody’s killing them. The Mask needs them to band together for the island’s sake… It’s complicated but you only need to tell us where they are, that’s it.” Rae assured him.
“It’s more everybody’s skins we’re trying to save.” Ciaran added and Damond was swayed enough he leant back on the desk between them.
He pinched his nose and brought his hands together over his mouth. “OK, you can stay awhile until you can move on.” Then he sighed. “I’m not going to be the help you think I’ll be with The Nine though, no matter what you want ‘em for.”
“What do you mean?” Ciaran frowned, he was usually the one to play games.
Damond laughed. “Nobody knows where anyone is, not since the shield cut off half the island. You guys and Barns are the only three I’ve talked to since! Other than the rookies. Poor beggars.”
“Your coms are down?” Rae asked as she noticed that every light and interface in the room were out.
He nodded, trying not to look at the battered remote in the corner of the room that had been thrown in a fit of rage at the technology’s lack of cooperation.
“Well Rae can patch you up with the Island Guard’s feed again, it’s something to pay you back for keeping us here!” Ciaran reasoned.
“Yeah, something.” Damond pushed himself away from the desk. “Look, you can stay here, take your old rooms but keep out of Moira’s way, alright?” He asked, looking specifically at Ciaran.
“Finally acknowledged that your wife hates us?” Ciaran’s eyebrow raised as his arms crossed.
Damond paused at the door. “Can you blame her?” He asked, retorting with a thick, arched eyebrow of his own.
Ciaran spluttered, but Damond held his gaze. “Come on, she can’t still hold that against me? It was a vase! She got it back didn’t she? OK minus the jewels but-” He saw that he was getting nowhere. “What about Rae?”
Damond sighed. “Moira lost everybody because of Leon, she’s got more reason to hate him than most.”
“And I had nothing to do with that.” Rae put in.
“I know dear, I know.” Was only what Damond could offer in recompense. After a deep ‘hoom’ He rotated the square, handprint-sensitive doorknob with a quick jerk and held it open for them. “Rest up, recover, repair my bloody coms and I’ll see what we can do about The Nine.”
Rae flashed him a shiny, white smile; gleaming through her mocha tinted skin. “You’re an angel, Damond.”
“Thanks, man,” Ciaran added, his cheeks and eyes creasing up in a smile that didn’t show on his mouth.
“Yeah don’t start.” He winced, flexing his muscles in fear of going soft-hearted. “Now get to your rooms before my wife sniffs you out.”
“Yes, sir.” Ciaran saluted and slid past him with Rae up the hall.
Damond watched them go, his eyes glazing over with times long gone, then he snapped to attention. “And no shenanigans!” He called after them.
Ciaran grabbed Rae’s butt in response, making Rae yelp and jump like an electric shock had gone through her. The noise disturbed Moira on the floor below them and Damond groaned as he knew he know had to subdue her.
He dragged himself down the stairs, muttering regrets of letting them stay all the way. He could still hear their laughter.
Most days you could find Rae holed up amongst the power sources in the safe house’s basement or under the technology-adorned desk in Damond’s office; Ciaran and Damond were constantly pouring over the holographic map she’d conjured for them and figure out every possible path that could have been taken from The Nine’s last-known locations. Rae had fixed the coms in two days, but like the others she was hiding from Moira.
The ‘scrutinising hag’ never really accepted them into her home, more just learnt to grit her teeth for a week. However one thing she couldn’t wilfully deny was Ciaran’s muddy trouser legs. Sure, her house was kept dusty to guise the trampling of countless rogues seeking refuge, but Moira was a woman who knew exactly how that dust was kept. Muddy drippings everywhere were not a part of that picture. As the honoured guests were confined to the house for fear of their faces being recognised and drawing unwanted attention, and nothing of Damond’s fit Ciaran in length or width, Moira had no choice but to get something for him herself. When she unceremoniously presented him with her results, mustard yellow baggy corded harem pants threaded with the blue colour of the citadel, he couldn’t speak.
“Matches your eyes.” Rae immediately noted without a hint of the laughter that was tearing up her insides. Damond had to swiftly leave the room to have a suspect coughing fit. In Rae’s own words, it wasn’t pretty.
The lowly crooks who came through the safe house for a day or two didn’t even dare to raise their eyes to meet Rae and Ciaran’s. Like office workers who never expected to see the fabled CEO at their favourite pub, overwhelming curiosity and fear led to feigned ignorance of their presence or curt nods followed by scurried walks. One awed rogue even hid behind a door to tentatively reach out and touch Rae’s shoulder in wonder while Ciaran slowly poked his baffled head out from another door further along the hall. He wasn’t mad, more than anything he found it amusing, and bewilderingly fascinating. The two of them had rarely shown themselves to the many rookie thieves as they went up the ranks in the past two years, he’d never thought what effect that could have on their reputations.
“Poor sods,” Damond had remarked when he joined Ciaran’s observation of Rae realising she was being fondled. She slowly turned her head, looking like she’d just become aware of the weirdest spider she’d ever seen, and the young man scrambled away with a squeak of a giggle. “They don’t know what to do since the masters have gone off the grid, and when they do come back they’ll only be punished for not having the brains to have found them.” Damond shook his head. “It was so much better when we were elite.”
“All the old timers say that, Damond. Careful you don’t become one.” Ciaran had replied and clapped him on the back, letting his hand linger before moving away to join Rae. He didn’t say it with an inflection of any tone or hostility, but in that moment Damond caught a glimpse of why the duo were so respected in their community, and what the two scrawny teenage runaways had become. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.
It had been exactly seven days when Ciaran interrupted yet another of Rae’s walks of the house by frog-leaping over the end of the stair railing instead of simply walking around. “Rae,” He started inquiringly. She exhaled in relief, the light in his eyes that had been dulled by a week of house arrest had returned. “Can you go to the market? Damond’s got a job for us. For some reason he’s got sick of me exploring every room at inopportune times and says we need to pay him back for the cutpurses we’ve scared off.” He shrugged innocently at the absurd idea of it.
Rae snorted. “What do we need?”
Ciaran tossed her a bag of coin chips. “The usual. Oh and some clothes; preferably black.”
This made her eyes dart down to where his scuffed, ash grey trainers stopped and a sliver of pale olive skin was shown before the garish dark orange leggings started. She looked back up quickly.
“I would like to look at you with dignity.” She noted wryly, but his reply was lost as he abruptly stared at something over her shoulder.
“Ye’ve been staying under my roof all this time and ye don’t trust me to get some bloody rope for ye?” Moira huffed loudly, making Rae spin around. Neither of them had noticed her come up behind them.
“No, I just trust Rae to actually get my size right.” Ciaran replied with a very direct glare, he’d been suffering his pants slipping down at inopportune times all week.
Moira started muttering something about it not being her fault he’s a skinny waif just as Damond came to find the source of all the noise.
Rae’s arms were crossed and her lip jutting. “You’re sending us out on a job anyway, what’s the difference about going out now?” This earned her a flash of hatred from Moira at the sound of her voice.
“That’s a night job. This is day time.” She pointed out as scathingly and condescending as she could.
“So what?” Ciaran immediately retorted and began pointing animatedly. “Rae could slip in and out of any crowd before you even got them to stop looking at you!”
The two were face-to-face now despite the height difference, the unamused “bring it on” expression on Moira’s face made Damond dive between them in double-time.
“Hey now guys,” He warned, facing his wife. “Rae’s used to this sort of thing,” He emphasised, “You don’t get to be among the most respected thieves on the island not knowing how to go unseen.” He’d consolidated her, but not enough to make him move out from inbetween her and Rae.
“She’ll bring the entire Island Guard back on us, just you watch!” Moira spat over Damond’s shoulder. Ciaran had backed off as he had to stay behind and continue planning with Damond, but at this point he was ready to lunge for Moira. Knowing this, her husband had turned around to face him now.
Moira’s target had already taken it into her own hands however. She didn’t need any more persuasion. Shaking her head derisively and scrunching her face up in disbelief, Rae was out the front door. Somehow she’d managed not to slam it, the second it had thudded Ciaran was glaring at Moira. She’d already disappeared into one of the side rooms and for her own good, he’d never wanted to wipe that smug look off her face more.
Damond could only offer him a sigh and an apologetic look towards his office. “Shall we?”
She was heading north; directly against the breeze. As she sifted between the close buildings the pale morning sunlight began to flare. With her fly-away locks blowing across her face more than usual it made her eyes prick. She didn’t care and breathed it in deeply; it was her first time outside in far too long and was in her natural territory: the shadows.
The safe-house was far closer to the main roads than it seemed but it was so enclosed by the buildings around it everything was muffled. Even so, the streets, if you could call them that, were surprisingly deserted.
But not everybody gets up as early as criminals. Rae reminded herself with a smile and continued on head down but eyes sharp, examining everything that moved.
Emerging from a gap between two stone apartments nobody knew existed, the main current she was missing soon appeared and unquestioningly absorbed her. Habit made her go back to the side streets and alleys as soon as possible, subconsciously never going in the same direction for too long. A mother doing her washing by hand in the yard exchanged suspicious looks with her as she passed, then around the corner her children stared at nothing but the pouch in Rae’s hand. Glaring down at them over her nose, she swung the pouch so it wound over her hand and swiftly went past them. She made it clear their tricks would be no use on her as she gave their pitiful puppy eyes a very wide berth, slapping away the first fingers to brush the zip on her left trouser pocket and rapidly walking on.
“Please ma’am,” The innocent pleading started, the speaker falling down onto his knees.
Rae made it halfway around the corner before she halted and sighed, “Try the Council Towers, they may seem unlikely but if you pull it off right the peacocks will be too guilty to not throw you any chips.”
The attitude of the eight watery puppy eyes changed instantly. Their leader slipped into a cocky smile and gave her a rudimentary salute. “Much appreciated, Stingray.” He said up to her; his round, chestnut eyes glinting with a disturbing amount of intelligence for someone who didn’t go past her stomach.
She paused and stuck a finger up questioningly, “What did you just-”
A sharp flick of his wrist in the air accompanied by a shrill whistle cut her off, with echoing whoops three more children she hadn’t noticed joined them from other connecting alleys and they leapt up the furthest one.
Within seconds they were gone. The mother she’d passed sniffed derisively at the person who’d caused her children to run off yet again, and again as she put the empty basket onto her hip and slammed the back door to her house behind her. Standing there numbly, Rae blinked owlishly and assessed her surroundings as she slowly moved on. She couldn’t shake the odd feeling she’d just been dismissed by the people she’d been the protégé of half a decade ago, give or take a few years.
Twelve market stalls. Nine crime lords. Six cities. Three counties. One Mask.
There wasn’t much Rae could commend Rethsbridge for but at least they got their numbers right. Even the largest ones had been pushed together so there would still appear to be that number. Twelve stalls meant that their merchants knew when to look away as she passed and when to fob off their extortionate deals onto the disgruntled customers lining up on the cobbles instead.
The market was pushed into the corner of the city where it was the only boundary between the guard barracks and the start of the age-old stone houses. The ones that were so run-down that their bricks were showing through the faded-away stone finish.
Few of the shoppers were alone, instead they bundled into small groups even if they were complete strangers. It was far from an oppressed place but with the towering pike-wall hiding them from any sunlight and suddenly going from being the centre of the island to the last city on the fringe; Rae didn’t blame them for being scared. However, it only made her stick out all the more.
Any queues that might have once wound around the entire sector had dissolved into groups of threes that whispered about being doomed and kept their noses turned to the ground. Except for the ones that sniffed at her skipping the nonexistent queues. They were quickly hushed by the stall-owners who recognised her from her active years. It didn’t take long for her to gather the rope and black cargo pants, swiftly exchanged for chips the merchants were amazed to see rather than a trade of items. As for the other things, they needed a more careful eye.
She was mulling through the sheet-covered stalls up against the houses when her eyes flicked up to see that everyone had vanished from her path. Only the honest merchants remained calmly behind their stalls, the others were distracted by everything from the fraying edges of their stall coverings or a spontaneous splinter. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, only one thing could spook everybody this much and it wasn’t her.
They fell in step instantly.
“Raena.” Jadon Leon, Captain of the Island Guard, greeted her curtly.
Her teeth clamped together at the use of her full name and she took a ‘calming’ breath through her nose instead. “Jade!” She exclaimed with as much false enthusiasm as possible. His teeth gritted as much as hers.
They continued walking and everyone continued parting only to scoot around the stalls to a safe distance behind them, waiting for the big showdown where he’d take her away. She could only imagine how much of a beacon his white reinforced uniform was.
“Three years and two weeks? It’s been a while.” She observed, already smirking.
“You’re not an easy person to track, otherwise you’d be in isolation by now.” He replied matter-of-factly.
The smirk widened. “No. You fell for the tracking chip, didn’t you? You combed every stop along the East road for two weeks thinking we’d be there.”
He didn’t grace her with a reply but the silence was enough to plant a knowing smile on her face. He couldn’t let her get away with that.
“Is it true?” He asked, then continued before her mouth could round in confusion, “You’re pregnant?”
“Ah.” The sudden realisation made her halt, this was why he’d confronted her one-on-one. She walked on to the clearest square of the market, but much more carefully. “You’re the one who’s read the doctor’s report five times over by now, you tell me.”
“Really, Raena? With him?”
Rae halted to show him her palm. “Don’t start that.”
Jadon battled with himself with a pouting lip and a pinch of his brow until he found a new point. “Is…” He struggled with his words then gestured to the entire market. “This, really the place to bring up a child?”
Rae looked at the perfectly normal places he picked out. “We’re in Rethsbridge, what are you talking about?”
“Point out to me one merchant who I couldn’t take back to the citadel for having their coffers steeped in filth right here and now.” The merchants who’d gotten curious suddenly ducked behind their stalls again.
“The entire island is a black market now, you can hardly hold it to that.”
“Exactly, and you’re always right in the middle of it. These are the bad sectors, you know that. In the capital our business is clean.”
“If you really think that then you don’t understand why The Mask hired us in the first place.” He ignored that. “So I should be in the citadel with you?”
“Yes,” He said and leant in closer as if that would shield them from eavesdroppers. “With him you’re always a criminal-”
“I am a criminal.” She snapped back at him. “At least we don’t beat people up for a living.”
Jadon groaned and shook his glossy brown locks. “That was for their own safety-” Then he saw that she was halfway out of the square and jogged in front of her. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. We’ve found a shield station we need your help to get into. We’ll be waiting outside the West gate.”
Rae only blinked to show she’d heard him. “I gave you two years to make me understand.” Sighing, he did nothing as she sidestepped him to head for the alleys.
“You were the one who walked away, Raena!” He shouted after her.
She started running.
“Two. Bloody. Weeks.” Ciaran moaned into the kitchen table, each word punctuated by the thump of his fist. The third one was accompanied by Rae slamming the door. Her footsteps approached louder than usual. “I’ve lost the meaning of daylight.”
“We have windows!” Damond defended his home from the other end of the table, then sheepishly realised the only ones not boarded up with wood were boarded up with dirt.
“It’s been eleven days. That’s a week and a half.” Rae corrected him as she stormed in and made a beeline for his arm, sending the tubes of the screening curtain flailing.
“Cranky. Someone try to give you a shoddy deal?” Ciaran joked into his arms just before he was pulled out of his chair and out of the kitchen.
Damond sighed at both of them and turned to leave, then the hisses of Rae’s urgent whispering found their way to his ear.
“You’re too old for this.” He whispered to himself as he stared longingly at the open doorway. The hissing became louder. “I’ll never be young again.” He shrugged and immediately crept over to flatten himself against the wall and strategically position his ear.
“We need to get out of here.” Rae told Ciaran before he could question her manhandling.
He laughed humourlessly. “I agree with that but wh-”
Rae rubbed her hand down her face. “He found us.”
It took a second for it to register, then: “Already?!” Another second passed before he realised how she’d know this and his eyebrows shot down.
“Nothing happened.” Rae said pointedly and brushed off the protective hands reaching for her shoulders. “He said the Island Guard found a station for us, they’re waiting outside the city.”
Ciaran groaned. “Did he see where you came from?”
“No, we were in the market. I’d have seen the walking flagpole before then.”
He chuckled. “You’ve seen his new uniform then? You’ve got to admit though, he’s too chunky to be a flagpole.”
Rae shoved the pants into his chest before he could see if she’d cracked a smile. “Just go and change your pantyhose, hopefully we can miss Moira.”
Ciaran staggered backwards like she’d wounded him then jogged towards the stairs. A hand sneaked out from behind the kitchen curtain before he could go past it.
“What’s going on?” Damond asked them with a frown deep enough to be a unibrow.
“Jadon.” Ciaran said darkly, barely stopping as he brushed his arm aside and headed to his and Rae’s room. Rae was left with Damond’s bewildered impending-explosion face.
“Captain Leon? He’s coming here?” He squeaked.
“No, he’s waiting for us.” She told him and delved into her thigh pockets for the bag of coin chips. “Keep this, as compensation for keeping us here.”
Damond caught the bag and was alarmed to find that hardly anything had been taken from it. “But don’t you need it?” He asked and Rae smiled bitterly.
Shaking her head she said: “One advantage to answering to the citadel is that they’ll give you everything you need to be their lapdog.”
He started shaking his head in incredulity of what had become of them. “Why don’t you just run? Screw the citadel’s problems, they have the resources to fix them themselves. It’s not like you haven’t been doing it for years! Pretty damn well, too.”
“There’s nowhere to run on half an island, Damond.” She reminded him with a fond smile. “Six months in isolation would break him; we have a lifetime on our heads. This way we get the clean slate, and I don’t know about you but I don’t want to give birth in a cell.”
“Clean slate?” He repeated knowingly but his face betrayed him, he was as shocked as the first time they’d told him. It wasn't long until he took on a hushed tone and broached the subject. “Look, you take care of yourself, okay?”
“That’s the plan.” Rae replied, smiling warily. He looked as awkward and red as a father trying to give his daughter ‘the talk’.
Damond blew out his cheeks. “Ciaran loves you but, you know how he is.” He winced like he couldn’t believe he was speaking the words. Even more so when Rae instantly frowned.
“What are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just…” He said hurriedly, then he saw Ciaran descending the banister on the edge of his eyesight and went in to embrace her. “Goodbye, dear.” He said in what was turning into a bear hug. On the other side of it Rae was looking slightly concerned but she returned it anyway. They had too much history not to.
“Moira’s incoming, we might wanna get moving.” Ciaran informed them. Rae noticed he seemed happier, or maybe it was because he wasn’t awkwardly shuffling and wincing at every too-wide step.
After a last squeeze the hug broke apart and Damond held out his hand to the lanky thief. “Ciaran.” He said and they shook.
“Thanks for everything pal, we’re completely square now.”
Damond’s eyes darted to Rae as she gave him a small salute in farewell. “Take care of her.”
Ciaran didn’t seem to notice the unusually grave tone in Damond’s voice. “Always ends up being the other way around.” He laughed, which was when a door suddenly slammed on the second floor and rapid footsteps made dust fall onto their heads.
“And we’re gone.” Rae blurted out and propelled Ciaran out of the front door. Damond barely had time to wave before it closed in time with his resigned eyes and Moira’s caterwauling about the proximity of the Island Guard reached him.
-WIP-
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