Chapter 11 #2
My spine went rigid, but I didn’t turn around from the stall of fresh herbs at the market. I recognized Megs’s voice. She still came around every so often, trying to get into the clinic to see me. Sometimes she made it inside, but most of the time whoever guarded the clinic told her to get lost.
“Angel, please! I beg you for your blessing!”
At my side, Sam snorted. “How come you never ask me for a blessing, Megs?”
In the silence, I could imagine her blinking owlishly in confusion.
“Death is coming for you,” she finally whispered.
“Okay.” Sam drew the word out long. “Thanks for that nightmare fuel. Sorry, we’re fresh outta blessings. Come back next week.”
I stood frozen, holding a sprig of mint and listening for the sound of her footsteps drawing nearer. Instead, I heard her mumble something and shuffle away. I glanced at Sam, unable to hide my surprise.
“What?” he said. “I know how to de-escalate a situation.”
I gave him a look I couldn’t quite soften into neutrality.
“Sorry, shoulda realized you wouldn’t know what that means. It’s responding to people in a way that doesn’t make them want to hit you.”
“Everything you say makes me want to hit you,” I said dryly, the words slipping out of my mouth and surprising me.
He blinked once, then looked at me like I’d just made his day. “Yeah, well, that’s a you problem.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to picking through the mint.
I needed to make more tinctures to treat nausea and upset stomach.
Once I had what I needed, Sam stepped up and paid.
I knew Madame gave Mac some sort of stipend to purchase ingredients and tools necessary for me to work.
I started small, but over time I added more things I needed, and no one ever questioned my purchases.
As we walked back to the clinic, my anxiety grew with every step. I knew Trey would be replacing Sam later, and in a few hours Zip would—
“So are you an angel?” Sam asked.
Nausea crept up my throat. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.” I picked up my pace, but he matched my steps.
“Some girls like bein’ called angel,” he pushed, unrelenting.
“How would you know?” I glared.
He clutched his chest like I’d stabbed him. “Shortcake, what are you implying? I’ll have you know I’m a high commodity around here.”
“Funny, seems like I’m the only person you ever talk to.”
“I talk to lots of people!” He grinned.
“Then how ’bout you go talk to one of them and leave me alone.”
“You’d miss me,” he said.
“Let’s try it and see.”
“You wound me!” His voice rose dramatically. “I’m delightful!”
“You’re annoying.”
“Shortcake, you tryin’ to break my poor li’l heart?”
“If your heart’s anywhere near as thick as your head, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Hey!” He sounded genuinely indignant now. “That was mean!”
I rolled my eyes, but to my surprise, I had to fight the urge to smile. He grumbled and whined about how mean I was, but for the first time in weeks, he didn’t seem angry at me. It felt like a breath of air after being underwater.
We’d made it halfway back to the clinic when Trey came running around a shack and barely managed to avoid crashing into Sam.
“Whoa—” Sam started, catching him by the shoulders.
“It’s Clarity,” Trey gasped. “She’s hurt.”
The three of us sprinted to the brothel.
Trey tried to fill us in as we ran. A regular client of hers liked to get rough.
There had been an incident a couple weeks before I arrived where he nearly killed her.
He’d been banned from the brothel for a while, but they missed his coin enough to let him return.
“How bad is it?” I asked, ignoring the painful stitch in my side as I ran.
“It looks bad.” Trey’s voice sounded tight with pain and fear. “I can’t tell, though.”
I tried to prepare myself for the worst, but my stomach still dropped when I entered her room.
She lay on her bed, another brothel worker sitting beside her, dabbing her bloody skin with a cloth.
I could hardly recognize her swollen face, and she breathed raggedly, her nostrils flaring like she struggled to get enough air into her lungs.
I rushed to her side and took her hands. The golden warmth seemed to flow to every part of her body, healing a multitude of injuries. Slowly, the bleeding stopped and the swelling on her face receded. Her breathing evened out. She started trying to mumble something to me, but her eyelids drooped.
“It’s okay, Clarity,” I murmured, squeezing her hands. “Rest.”
She managed to squeeze my hand back a tiny bit and then closed her eyes. Once she’d been healed, every small scratch erased, I set her hands back down on her abdomen. When I looked up, the girl who sat on her other side gaped at me.
“How much does it cost?” she whispered nervously.
“Nothing,” I said, my throat tight.
Her eyes widened. “Can…can you help me with something?”
I followed her back to her room, noting she shared it with four other girls. It was small and cramped and smelled sour, very different from Clarity’s single room decorated with red silks. Two girls slept in their beds, and the other three beds were empty.
“I have this rash,” the girl said in a tiny whisper. “Itches somethin’ fierce. I keep scratchin’ it till it bleeds.”
She showed me the rash, and it took a couple of seconds to heal it. The simple act left her in tears.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“You can always come get me if you catch something like this again,” I told her, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. “Please tell the others.”
“The previous healer wouldn’t treat us.” She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “Said we were worse than rusters. He’d drop off some bandages and medicines but that was it.”
“I’m not like that,” I said, furious at the thought of refusing to treat someone because they worked at a brothel. “Tell the others they can come anytime. Or I can come here.”
“Thank you, Bones,” she whispered as I slipped out the door.
—
The weather turned colder. I started going for walks along the wall whenever I had free time, covertly examining the layered metal sheets between me and freedom.
I could feel the pressure of time building.
It wouldn’t be long before the mountains filled up with snow, and then I’d be stuck here until spring.
The walls were made of giant sheets of metal welded together and overlapped in layers.
It must have taken forever to build, but it stood impressively solid.
I couldn’t find any holes or weak spots.
The smaller gate on the other end of the hold had been boarded and chained shut with multiple padlocks.
The only way out was through the guarded gate.
The loggers were sent out for an extended trip to bring back more wood for winter. I thought about trying to sneak out with them, but Madame kept me so busy I missed my opportunity—four nights in a row, dragged into the dungeon over missing ammunition.
Desperation twisted in my chest. Food was one thing. Ammunition was something else entirely.
Whatever was happening here, it was getting louder. And I had to get out.
The first night of Zip’s absence, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I cleaned the entire clinic since I didn’t want to go to Mootzie’s by myself.
As I dumped a bucket of dirty water outside, I noticed two small children darting through the shadows.
I slowed, watching them out of the corner of my eye.
They followed a drunk man who stumbled down the path, dropping about half of his dinner ration, and the children darted out to pick up every tiny crumb.
Something in my chest twisted. They moved like tiny ghosts with hollow faces and empty eyes.
“You need help?”
I startled, looking at where Trey sat in the chair, watching me.
“No,” I said, going back inside and slamming the door.
When Sam brought me my mug of broth and meal ration, I asked him about the kids.
“They’re orphans,” he said. “They’re too young to work, so they have to beg or scrounge for food until they’re big enough to join a workforce, the guards, or a crew.”
I frowned. “They can’t get food at the canteen?”
“Only working folks can get food at the canteen.” His voice didn’t waver, but something flashed in his blue eyes.
I’d seen plenty of people who couldn’t work. Men missing hands. Women whose backs had given out and never healed right. People too thin, too sick, too broken to leave their beds. Most of them had been hurt doing the work Madame demanded in the first place.
“What about kids with parents?” I asked.
“If the parents can work,” he said carefully, “they’re allowed a little extra for their children.”
Allowed.
I thought of the meals I’d turned down because I wasn’t hungry, because I couldn’t stomach eating, because I’d learned a long time ago how to survive on less, and guilt ate me alive.
As soon as Sam left, I quickly divided my ration into half a dozen small packages, leaving just the broth for myself and gulping it down. I shoved the food into a bag that I slung over my shoulder. When I stepped outside, Trey looked up at me, surprised.
“I’m runnin’ an errand,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He frowned at me. “What errand?”
“A personal one. I’ll be back, okay?”
I strode off without waiting for an answer.
When I couldn’t see the clinic any longer, I slowed, watching the shadows for the tiny figures.
The first one took off when I got close.
I didn’t have much luck with the second either, so I started leaving the little packages on the ground near their hiding spots.
I tried to do it stealthily, slipping through the shadows like they did.
I wasn’t sure what Madame would do if she caught me, but based on how she’d tortured Mist for stealing food, I doubted she’d be happy about it.
I wasn’t stealing anything, but it was safer to keep this my secret.
I never saw any of the children take the packages, but when I would glance back, the ground would be empty.