14. Ruby
fourteen
The young girl throws a bag out of a first-floor window. The homeowners remain undisturbed, the house dark. She climbs out after the bag, her feet landing softly on the ground.
She closes the window silently and disappears into the night. I stay close, like I have all evening, moving as her shadow. She can’t be more than ten, yet she controls her slender limbs with the grace of a dancer. She’s not clumsy or awkward like most prepubescent girls.
She moves with confidence, sticking to the darkness beyond the streetlights.
After hitting the eighth house, she takes to the woods with only the moon to guide her way. I slow my steps, increasing the distance between us. The woods make it harder to be silent. She climbs over downed trees and ducks under branches with such ease that my heart flips in my chest. Her abilities rival my own, and she is only a girl. We only need to hone her skills and teach her the language of the blade until she’s fluent.
The girl reaches the train tracks and turns to follow them north into the city. She walks on the rail like a tightrope. A voice carries over the night air, and the girl stills. As do I. We have a visitor. A second voice echoes with the first. A bottle sails out of the woods and makes contact with the tracks in front of the girl, shattering at her feet. She takes a step back, then another, her foot slipping. She steadies herself. It’s the first time she’s faltered. I remain at the edge of the woods. Observing. The decisions she makes in the next moments will determine her fate.
She crouches, placing the bag behind the railroad tie, hiding it from view. Whatever’s in that bag, she doesn’t want our visitors to find it. She tucks her blond braid up into her beanie and pulls up her hood. She has nowhere to hide, so she can only hide the fact that she’s a girl and hope they leave her alone. Smart, but will it be enough? The boisterous duo rambles forward, emerging from the woods.
The moment they see her, time seems to stop. They take the child in, and then look at each other before turning to her once more. Their carefree demeanor shifts to that of a predator. They move purposefully, as if they’ve done this before. One of them clears their throat and spits, walking around the girl, removing her escape route.
“It’s a little late for you to be wanderin’ these woods alone, ain’t it, kid?” the spitter asks, his voice that of a career smoker. It grinds in my ears.
The other man wipes his nose with the back of his hand and chuckles, clearly the lackey. The girl must sense this, because she turns, coming face to face with the true threat.
Spitter leers at her, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. The realization that he doesn’t care whether the child is a boy or a girl hits me the same time it hits her. She takes a step back, but Chuckles is there to push her forward into Spitter who backs up. She stumbles forward and her hood falls. Her blond hair peeks out beneath her hat.
She stands tall, as tall as a ten-year-old girl can. The grown ass men stare down at her like she’s dessert, but no tears fall. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t yell out. She lunges.
“Motherfucking brat,” Spitter yells, outrage pouring into each syllable. “She fucking stabbed me.”
Chuckles grabs her from behind, lifting her off the ground. A shard of bloodied glass is visible in the moonlight as she brings it down into Chuckles' upper thigh. He releases her, but Spitter is ready for her.
I don’t wait a moment longer. I emerge from the shadows and jump on Spitter’s back; my blade slicing clean through his carotid. Warm blood coats my hand, splattering in front of us. The girl uses her free hand to wipe blood out of her eyes, stunned either at the amount of blood or the sight of me, I’m not sure which. Chuckles moves for me, but I land a kick to his chest, knocking him to the ground. I straddle him, and in seconds, I am showered with his blood.
“Do you have a family?” I ask the girl.
She removes her beanie and uses it to wipe the blood from the rest of her face. Her small shoulders lift in a shrug.
I repeat myself, “Do you have a family?”
She shakes her head. “Not one that matters.” Her voice is small, but her confidence is so big that I am taken aback once again by her age.
“What’s your name?”
“Alice.”
“Well, Alice, my name is Ruby. Let me formally welcome you to the Loyal Reds.”
Rowan spins in her chair and claps like a sugar-crazed child.
“Told you, Rubes.”
“Rowan, she’s perfect. You should have seen her tonight. She might end up being a better Ruby than me one day.”
Rowan scoffs and moves back to her keyboard. Cassius fills multiple screens. He sits at a table in an interrogation room with his arms crossed over his large chest and a vein pulsing in his neck. A uniformed officer stands sentry in the corner, waiting for Cassius to make a move.
“Has he cracked at all?” I ask.
“Nope,” Rowan replies, popping out the p.
She presses a button, and we hear a detective ask, “Is she dead, Cassius?”
Cassius rolls his neck and stares at the camera.
The detective speaks again, “Where is Isabella Diaz?”
Cassius does not break eye contact with the camera, when he asks, “Where is the supposed video?”
We hear paper shuffling off-screen, but the detective doesn’t answer him. A knock sounds, and the scratching of the chair sliding on the floor follows. A door opens and closes. Cassius continues to make eye contact with the camera. With me. My skin prickles under his gaze.
The door to the tower opens, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Reagan enters. Rowan quickly changes the programming, but I’m not sure if she was fast enough,
“Ruby. Rowan,” Reagan greets us, her tone peculiar. She looks pointedly at me. “I just wanted to let you know that Alice is settled in. You might want to let her be for a day or two before you begin training. I have a feeling she’s been through quite a bit. She has some serious scarring on her legs and sides.”
My heart plummets for the young girl, but I know she’s safe now.
Reagan smooths her ponytail out of habit, not necessity, and offers a small smile. She did not need to come up here to tell me this, and yet here she is. What does she really want? She turns to leave and then changes her mind, turning back to us once more.
A fake smile creeps over her face. “Oh, Ruby, I was also curious where you were in the timeline for Cassius Cross? Isn’t his time up?”
I grit my teeth, anger, and embarrassment swirling together inside my body, both trying to reach the surface. “We haven’t found the girl yet.”
“Oh, but I mean, we don’t actually need him to find her, do we?”
Rowan remains quiet beside me. She’s not a fan of the others invading her space.
“Actually, Reagan, it would make things so much easier if we are able to force him into complacency.”
She nods her head, and sucks on her teeth. Rowan and I exchange a knowing glance. Reagan is clearly not convinced, but she doesn’t question us further. When the door clicks closed behind her, I hold my hand up to Rowan, stopping her before she starts. We’re not going to have this conversation, because there’s nothing to discuss. What we told Reagan was all true. We haven’t found the girl yet, and it really would be easier with Cassius alive to tell us. That’s all.
I offer Rowan a forced smile and make my way out of the attic, my normally sure footsteps leaving a trail of uncertainty in their wake.