“Extra, extra! Freak Storm Batters West Coast! California in Ruins!”
It was about as far from the actual headline as one could get, but news was slow, and Faith Montgomery felt absolutely no shame about the falsity as she waved her paper over her head and tried to attract the attention of the people passing her on Lafayette Avenue. “Extra, extra!” she repeated, managing to sell a paper to a businessman as he strolled by.
“Since when you been sellin’ papes, Faithie?” a voice asked from behind her, and the tall girl went very still, feeling her blood run cold at that silky, deceptively casual tone.
“Since the James Street Factory burnt down,” she answered evenly as she pivoted around to face the young man before her. He was tall, dark, handsome as the devil, and twice as evil. He should have been in jail for at least another year; what he was doing out, walking around Queens that September afternoon Faith didn’t think she wanted to know. “What are you doin’ out here?” she asked anyway, while the boy regarded her with narrowed dark eyes.
Lucian Forlani, better known as Luke, or just Forlani, smiled as he lit a cigarette. “Me bruddah,” he answered. “Families gotta stick tagedda, know what I’m sayin’?” Faith tilted her head back slightly and didn’t reply. “How ya been, Faithie?” Luke wanted to know, taking a deep drag on the cigarette.
“What do you want, Luke?” Faith asked with her trademark calm.
“Jus’ ta say hello, how ya been, ya know?” Luke shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Not likely,” Faith muttered, and arched a cool eyebrow at the former newsboy gang leader and petty criminal.
Luke shrugged again and tossed down the half-finished cigarette. “Maggie sellin’ papes wit’ you?” he asked, and Faith had to struggle to keep her impassive expression in place.
“What’s it to you?” she asked evenly.
“Well, she was me girl ‘fore I went ta jail, I’d like ta see ‘er again,” Luke replied, affecting a cheerful smile. “I’s missed ‘er.”
Faith gritted her teeth. “Well, she certainly hasn’t missed you,” she said coldly.
“No? I’m hurt,” Luke grinned and pressed a hand to his chest, presumably to the spot where his heart would have been, if he’d had one. Which he definitely did not. “She still in Brooklyn, or what?”
“You can’t think I’m going to tell you.” It was not a question.
“Ya might want to, ya know,” Luke suggested, almost solicitously. Reaching out, he took hold of Faith’s left hand. Turning it over, he ran his thumb over her palm. “I’d really like ta see ‘er,” he went on casually, still in that dangerously silky voice. Faith watched him silently, not certain of what he intended, but knowing that an attempt to pull away would be futile. “Ya gonna tell me wheah she is?” he asked, still holding her hand.
Faith met his gaze impassively. “No.”
Luke’s polite expression didn’t change as he twisted her hand violently. There was an audible crack and Faith gasped as agony flared up her arm. Gritting her teeth against the mind-numbing pain, she glared at him in silence. “Always so tagedda, ain’t ya Faithie?” Luke let go of her injured hand and clasped the back of her neck, drawing her close so that he could whisper in her ear. “Bet it takes a lot ta make ya scream,” he murmured. “One a’ dese days we’s gonna find out what dat is,” he promised, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He stepped back, smirking as Faith glowered at him, holding her quickly swelling wrist. “Tell Maggie I’ll be seein’ ‘er soon,” he added, and turning on his heel, he strolled away, whistling in the late summer air.
“…and so, I said ta Callahan - “
Ruby Gallagher rolled her green eyes indulgently and shared a conspiratorial grin with Memphis McGowan, as his younger brother Cody prattled on – for the third time - about his exciting adventure dodging the local cops that afternoon. It was late in the afternoon, and a group of the Harlem newskids were lounging on the lodging house steps, enjoying one of the last dog days of summer.
“Hey, kid,” Memphis, a tall, sunburnt Tennessee farm boy, leaned over and elbowed his sibling. “We heard ya the first time.”
“Oh.” The younger McGowan’s ears flamed red. “Sorry,” he shrugged. Ruby smiled and leaned down from her seat above him on the steps to pat the fourteen year old’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, love, it was a good story.”
“The first time maybe,” Ty Garrett, an East Harlem newsboy, like the McGowan brothers, put in. Ruby twisted around and poked him.
“Be nice,” she ordered, and Ty grinned.
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in a bad imitation of the McGowans’ thick as molasses Southern accents.
“Hey, Rubes,” Memphis spoke up, “looks like you’ve got visitors.” He tilted his chin towards a small group of boys quickly approaching in the hazy, humid twilight.
Ruby shaded her eyes against the last rays of the dying sun and squinted, trying to make out who was coming. Hunter McCarthy and Reese Robards, from Queens, and Dove Parker and - oh, yay – her sometimes flame, Sebastian Deveer, from Brooklyn. Something must be going on, she thought, but didn’t trouble herself too much about it.
“Hey guys,” she smiled as she stood, smoothing her skirt and fluffing her curly red hair. The preening was for Reese’s benefit. And Memphis’. And Ty’s. And Bastian’s too, kind of. “What’s wrong?” her welcoming smile faded when she caught the looks on the boys’ faces.
“Ruby - ” It was Bastian who came forward and took her gently by the elbow to steer her inside. “Ya’d better siddown.”
“I’m gonna die. That’s all there is to it, I’m gonna die.”
“Yer not gonna die, Ruby, don’t be so foolish,” Flash snorted, but the rebuke was mild, and the Harlem co-leader’s voice was strained.
“He broke Faith’s wrist! Whatta ya think he’s gonna do ta me?!” the other girl shot back, wringing her hands in fear. This was bad, this was very bad. This was about as bad as it got.
“He ain’t gonna get to ya, Rubes,” Mess Anthony, one of the East Harlem boys, and a former Brooklynite, like Ruby herself, pointed out. “We won’t let him.”
“If ‘e so much as sneezes ta’wards Harlem, we’ll get ‘im,” Knuckles Callahan, the boys’ leader, put in firmly.
“I don’t understand,” Ash Villaflores, one of the newer Harlem girls, spoke up hesitantly, looking in confusion between Mess, Ruby, Flash and the other Harlem girls’ leader, Blue Skies. “What’s going on exactly?” The pretty Filipino girl’s dark eyes were huge with confusion and worry.
“I’m gonna die, that’s what’s goin’ on!” Ruby wailed, flopping back on her bunk. Memphis, Ty, and Reese from Queens clustered around her, offering sympathy and promises of protection.
“Yer not gonna die, Gallagher, so quit moanin’,” Fingers Mulcahy snapped.
“Forlani - Luke - is Ruby’s old boyfriend,” Mess began to explain to Ash. “He – uh - ”
“’E’s a murderin’ bastard,” Sham Delanie piped up. “Killed ‘is own girlfriend.” Mess shot his best friend a ‘shut your mouth’ look.
“’E tried ta take over Brooklyn, back in…” Knuckles paused and looked at Ruby.
“Ninety nine,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “April of ninety nine.”
“Conlon beat ‘im an’ Forlani went ta jail,” Fingers added harshly.
“At da time, he didn’t know I’d started helpin’ Spot by spyin’ on ‘im,” Ruby finished herself. “’E knows now, an’ now I’m gonna die.”
“Faith saw him today, in Queens,” Reese contributed. “’E broke ‘er wrist when she wouldn’t tell ‘im where Ruby was.”
“See, ‘e’s gonna kill me.”
The group in the bunkroom looked at each other, then discussion began on exactly how the borough could protect itself from the young, but highly dangerous criminal.
Ruby sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. It was late afternoon, and she still had papers to sell. The Harlem leaders had decreed that it was safe for her to be outside to work, as long as she did so in within eyesight and earshot of several of her friends. As scared as Ruby was, she refused to lock herself in the lodging house and wait for Luke to come for her. She’d never give him the satisfaction.
Craning her neck, she looked towards the end of the block, where Skies, Mess, Chance Costello, and various other Harlem newsies were standing, talking. Even as she watched, Fingers fished Skies’ pocketwatch out of her pocket, without the other girl even noticing. Ruby had to grin. In a lot of ways, Fingers reminded her of her old friend, Amy Cavanaugh. Amy had been a pickpocket in Brooklyn, back in the day – back before the territory wars that had made it necessary for Ruby to leave her home, back before Amy herself had died, murdered just this past spring, leaving her little sister, Chloe, alone. A wave of nostalgia swept over her. She missed the days in Brooklyn before it all turned bad, she really did.
Glancing down at her papers, she opened her mouth to call out a headline, but the words never left her lips.
Out of nowhere, from behind, an arm slid around her waist and a hand clapped over her eyes. “Guess who?” a devastatingly familiar voice purred in her ear. Ruby’s heart dropped to her toes, and pure terror closed its icy fist around her, freezing her to the spot. He’s going to kill me, oh God, oh God oh God. The hand uncovered her eyes and drifted down her cheek, caressing her face, then the side of her neck, brushing aside her hair. He’s going to slit my throat, she thought, so frightened that everything was surrealistically clear. She was certain a blade was about to slice into her flesh at any moment, so the feel of Luke’s mouth rather than cold steel was so unexpected she almost laughed in pure hysteria. “So, Maggie, did ya miss me?” he murmured in her ear, pressing kisses along the side of her neck.
Ruby swallowed hard, trying to get an answer past the lump of pure terror that had lodged itself just behind her tonsils. “Sure,” she swallowed again and cleared her throat. “Sure I did,” she managed to whisper. Luke chuckled, the sound more terrifying than anything she’d ever heard in her life.
“Nah, ya didn’t.” He let her go and spun her around to face him. Ruby cringed back, expecting a blow. None came, and she opened her eyes to see Luke regarding her with something like amusement. “What’s da mattah, Maggie?” he asked. “You ain’t scared a’ me, is ya?”
“A’ course not,” Ruby denied the obvious. “It’s –ah- good to see you, Luke.”
The tall boy nodded briefly. He was still devastatingly handsome, Ruby noticed, but without feeling the old jolt of intense attraction; jail had only hollowed out the high cheekbones and added a new hardness to a mouth that had never been soft or kind in the first place.
“Yer a terrible liar, Maggie,” he smirked. “Yer scared ta death right now.”
“I am not!” Ruby sniffed, sneaking a glance down the block. The Harlem newsies were still there, as long as she was in their sight range, she’d be safe. Just because they hadn’t actually noticed Luke didn’t mean he’d be able to murder her on a street corner in broad daylight.
Luke grinned and leaned close to her, lips right next to her ear. “Ya oughtta be, Maggie, me girl,” he murmured, tangling his fingers in her hair. “We’s got some scores ta settle.”
Ruby froze in terror. “Luke, I - ”
“Shhh,” Luke pressed a finger to her lips. “We ain’t gonna talk about it now. We’s gonna talk about it later. Right now I gotta go give me condolences ta Chloe on da untimely death of ‘er sister.” Brushing his mouth briefly against hers, he stepped back. A wink and a touch to his hat later, he was gone, melting back into the shadows of the alley. Ruby stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move.
“Guys,” she finally wheezed through the terror, her voice catching in her throat. “Guys!” she gasped out a little louder.
“What’s da matter wit’ you, Gallagher?” Fingers was the first to reach her.
Ruby swallowed hard. “Luke,” she whispered, and immediately, tensions were ignited.
“Where? Where’d he go?” Fingers demanded, looking around urgently. Ruby blinked and came back to herself.
“He’s gonna go after Chloe! I’ve gotta get ta Manhattan, he’s gonna try ta hurt Chloe!”
The bandages on her broken wrist did seem to help a bit, Faith mused as she sold her last paper to a couple of passing shop girls. It certainly generated sympathy; it was easy to understand why many newsboys used fake injuries to boost their sales.
“How ya doin’, Faith?” a familiar voice asked from behind her, and Faith smiled as she turned to face Mac Scurelli, leader of the Queens’ newsboys.
“I’m all right, thanks for asking,” she replied, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun as she looked up at the newsboys’ leader. “All done for the day?”
“Yeah,” the tall boy nodded. “I’m headin’ over ta Rye’s ta meet Birdie.”
Faith smiled. “Tell her I’ll be home later on, and not to worry, I’m taking Kit with me to Harlem,” she said, and Mac frowned.
“Youse gonna go ta Harlem today?”
“Yeah,” Faith sighed. “Is that a problem?” she asked gently. The question wasn’t at all flippant. Mac shrugged.
“Nah, guess not, jus’ be careful,” he said. “Ya wanna take one a’ me boys? Hunter’ll go wit’ ya.”
“No, that’s fine, thanks,” Faith smiled. “Not to worry.”
“If ya say so, but Birdie’s gonna worry anyway,” he muttered.
Faith waved him away with her good hand. “Tell her not to,” she repeated. “See you later,” she added as the newsboy headed off.
“Yeah, see ya, Faith,” he replied, and was gone into the afternoon sunshine.
Faith smiled to herself as she started towards Kit’s selling spot on the corner of Lafayette and Union, not far from the Lodging House. It was nice to have so many people concerned. Both Mac and Birdie took their leadership roles very seriously. Wrapped up in her thoughts, Faith paused and knelt to tie her bootlace. A shadow fell over her, blocking the sun, and she looked up, frowning at the silhouette, unable to see who was standing before her. A familiar, lazy chuckle sent a chill like a January wind down her spine.
“Heyah Faithie, how’s da wrist?”
Ruby dragged her feet as she and several other Harlem kids made their way back in the direction of home. It was a long trek from the Lower East Side back up to Harlem, and she was exhausted from it. Their urgent trip down into Cowboy’s territory had proved perfectly futile. All it had done was scare the bejeebers out of Dutchy when Ruby went racing up to him, demanding where his girlfriend was. Of course Chloe was less than a block away, selling a newspaper to a businessman. Whatever Luke had implied by his remarks had not been played out as of yet, and according to Cowboy’s reassurances, no one was letting Chloe out of their sight, so Ruby was not to worry, and why didn’t they just head on back up to Harlem and call it a day? So they had; it was with great relief that Ruby trudged up to the Harlem Newsgirls Lodging House door, too tired to manage a smile for Memphis when he gallantly opened it for her.
“There they are now,” a voice said, and Ruby blinked in the lamplight, astonished to find the lodging house lobby filled to overflowing with people. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but as her gaze fell on the group standing beside Mrs. Evans’ desk, her heart sank. There was only one thing that could bring that many Queens newsies to Harlem at once.
No. “He got Faith, didn’t he?” she blurted out, looking at Skies, who sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes.
“Yeah,” she nodded. Ruby collapsed back against the wall, unable to stand straight, struggling not to cry.
“Is she – did he- ” she couldn’t get the words out.
“She’s just gone,” Blue explained quietly. “Disappeared.”
“He snatched ‘er right out from under our noses,” the Queens girls’ leader, Birdie Kelley, was saying tersely. “Right in the middle of the street in broad daylight and nobody saw nuthin’.”
“What happened?” Memphis spoke up from beside Ruby. “How do you know for sure he’s got Faith?”
“We were s’posed to be coming up here to visit Ruby,” Faith’s friend, Kit, put in. “She was s’posed to meet me at my selling spot, but she never showed up. One minute she was at her spot, the next she was gone.”
“She never showed up, so wheah do ya t’ink she went?” Cabot Tate, a Queens newsie with a big mouth and a tendency towards trouble, added sardonically as he chewed on a toothpick. “Faith ain’t exactly da type ta run off wit’out tellin’ nobody where she went, ya know?”
“What are we s’posed ta do now?” another of the Queens’ boys, Hunter, demanded. “Do ya think he’s gonna hurt ‘er?” He looked distinctly pained by the prospect.
“’E ain’t gonna throw ‘er a party,” Fingers muttered under her breath.
“He won’t hurt her right away,” Knuckles put in. “He’ll use ‘er as a bargaining chip, dat’s gotta be why he took ‘er in da foist place. It ain’t Faith he wants ta hurt.” Everyone looked at Ruby, who sunk back against the nearest solid male body, still struggling not to break down completely. Voices erupted as the group continued to discuss the problem, and any possible solutions.
“Where would ‘e take ‘er?” Mess asked.
“Back to Brooklyn?” Flash wondered aloud.
“Not da old place,” Dove Parker, the Brooklyn messenger, piped up. “It was torn down.”
“And ‘e’d never get inta Brooklyn ta begin wit’,” Fingers added with a dark scowl.
“Well, wheah’s ‘is bruddah been livin’?” someone else asked.
No one seemed to know the answer to that.
“He’ll use Faith to try to blackmail you, Ruby, obviously,” Birdie said, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “He’ll have to talk to you sometime.”
“Den dere ain’t nuthin’ we kin do fer now,” Knuckles sighed, “’til he gets in touch wit’ Ruby.”
“What do you expect us ta do, sit on our asses and wait fer ‘im?” Hunter snapped at the East Harlem leader, who shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Got a better idea?” he demanded.
“If it was one a’ yer girls, you wouldn’t give up so easy!” Mac shot back and tension crackled in the air.
“Stop it, both of you,” Verity’s brother, Andrew, stepped in. “Fighting isn’t going to help anybody.”
“Dere ain’t nuthin’ we can do tonight,” Flash agreed solemnly. “You guys should go back to Queens an’ we’ll figure sumthin’ out tomorrow. He won’t hurt Faith ‘til he at least talks to Ruby. We gotta trust to that.”
The voices continued to rise and fall angrily, but they receded to a background hum to Ruby as she started for the stairs. She was halfway across the floor when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Ya all right, Ruby?” a voice asked, and Ruby sighed, turning back and nearly falling into familiar arms. They closed around her as she sagged against the wiry body.
“What am I gonna do, Reese?” she murmured against the Queens’ boy’s shirt, struggling to hold back the tears.
There was an awkward pause. Reese Robards didn’t have much experience with pain and trauma; he was known in most boroughs as a happy go lucky fellow with a great love of parties and gambling. “It’s gonna work out jus’ fine, Ruby,” he finally said, patting her back uncomfortably. “Ain’t nuthin’ gonna happen ta Faith.”
“You don’t know that,” she muttered, pulling away. Everyone kept saying everything was going to be fine; they didn’t know Luke the way she did. They could guess at what he was capable of, but they didn’t really know. Automatically, she began rubbing her arm, a spot on the inside of her right elbow, where three perfectly round scars were visible in the pale skin. They were about the size and shape of the end of a lit cigar; appropriate, since that was where they had come from. Luke’s idea of fun one Saturday night long ago. Her eyes met Bastian’s over Reese’s shoulder, and she knew he was remembering it too.
“Sure I knows it,” Reese attempted his trademark cocky grin, bringing her attention back to him. “I knows ev’rythin’, I do.” He smirked at her, and with a moan of frustration, Ruby pushed him away and bolted for the stairs. Making it up to the main bathroom, she locked herself in a stall and leaned against the cool wood, burying her face in her hands. The dam burst and the tears began to flood.
“Ruby? Are you all right?” another familiar voice asked from outside the stall. “It’s not your fault, you know,” Verity was going on gently. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Ruby opened the stall door and threw herself into the other girl’s arms. “It is all my fault,” she sobbed. “Faith ain’t never done nuthin’ wrong an’ he’s gonna hurt her! What am I gonna do?” she wailed.
Verity sighed and patted the sobbing girl’s back. “It’s gonna be all right, Ruby, we’ll figure something out.”
“What? What can we figure out? He’s got Faith, an’ he’s gonna do sumthin’ awful to her!”
“Getting hysterical ain’t gonna help ‘er,” Fingers commented harshly from the doorway.
“But what are we gonna do?” Ruby repeated, lifting a tearstained face to look at the two newsgirls. “
Verity shrugged and hugged her friend.
“It’ll be all right, Ruby. Really it will.”
It was no use; sleep was never going to come to her. Ruby rolled over and stared into the thick darkness with sore, exhausted eyes. She was so tired, but she couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Making as little noise as possible, she crawled down from her bunk and pulled on a pair of trousers under her nightshirt. Creeping across the room, she climbed carefully out the window and up the fire escape ladder to the roof. She sat down with her back pressed against the chimney block and leaned her forehead on her drawn up knees.
What am I going to do? He’s got Faith. He’s going to hurt her if I don’t do something, but what can I do? What does he want? Oh God, help me help her!
Just then, the back of her neck began to prickle with uneasiness. Lifting her head, she stared straight ahead, listening to the night silence. The only sound was that of her own heart pounding. But she wasn’t alone; there was someone else on the roof. She didn’t have to turn around to know that for certain.
“Where’s Faith?” she asked the silence, not moving a muscle. There was a chuckle from the darkness, then the rasping noise of a match being struck. The pungent smell of cigarettes filled the air.
“Safe, fer now,” came the reply. “If she stays dat way depends on you.”
“What do you want, Luke?” Ruby whispered, getting slowly to her feet and turning to face him. He was standing on the opposite side of the roof, nearly invisible in the shadows.
“Dis an’ dat, ya know,” he shrugged. “Me territory back, me girl back, nuthin’ too fancy.”
“Spot will kill you if you take one step in Brooklyn’s direction,” Ruby said quietly. “You can’t win there, we proved it last time.”
Luke shrugged and tilted his head back slightly, blowing smoke out through his nose. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess dat all depends on you, don’t it?”
Ruby regarded him in silence. “How does it depend on me?” she asked. “I’m not helpin’ you.”
“Ya might wanna think about that,” Luke replied, pushing off the low wall he’d been leaning on and coming towards her. “Faith’s safe fer now, but she may not be if I lose me tempa.”
“Why don’t you jus’ leave her out of it?” Ruby demanded, feeling reckless. He could kill her now if he so desired; he could have killed her that afternoon on the street, but he hadn’t. Obviously he needed her alive for something. As long as he did, she was safe. “This is between you an’ me.”
Luke threw down the remains of his cigarette and came closer, stopping just a few inches from her. “Dere’s a lot between you an’ me, Maggie May,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a hand through her curls. Ruby jerked back, and hit her head on the chimney behind her. No one ever called her Maggie anymore, except him, and once upon a time it used to make her melt inside. “We’s linked, ya know?” Luke breathed, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “You owe me fer what ya did,” he whispered, and Ruby pulled away from him, trying to extricate her hand from his grasp, but he wasn’t letting go.
“I don’t owe you anything, you deserved to go to jail,” she snapped.
Luke turned her hand over and kissed the sensitive underside of her wrist. “Yer gonna help me whether ya want to or not,” he was going silkily. “Unless a’ coise ya wanna see yer pal Faithie somewhere at da bottom of da Harlem River.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Ruby whispered, but she knew full well that he would indeed dare. Luke smiled and finally let go of her hand. She backed a few steps away from him, putting some distance between them. “What do you want?” she repeated warily.
“Well, let’s start wit’ da money,” Luke leered at her.
Ruby eyed him warily. “I don’t have any money.”
“Five hundred dollars,” he went on. “By Sunday.”
“Wheah am I s’posed ta get five hundred dollars?” Ruby demanded. “I could sell papes fer years an’ not make dat much!”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t care how ya get it, jus’ do it. If ya want my advice,” he stepped close to her again, trapping her against the chimney block, “sell what ya gots da talent ta sell.” He raked his eyes over her body, making his meaning all too clear. “You’d make a pretty penny fer it,” he remarked, and Ruby, flushing with anger, lifted a hand to slap him. The blow never connected as Luke, with lightening reflexes, caught her wrist in mid-swing. “I wouldn’t do dat if I was you, Maggie May,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “I ain’t in too good a mood tonight. I lose me temper, and Faithie suffers fer it.”
“I hate you,” Ruby ground out between her teeth. Luke arched a smug eyebrow at her.
“Fine line between love an’ hate, Maggie me girl,” he commented, and Ruby resisted the urge to spit at him.
“There ain’t a borough in dis city that will do business wit’ ya,” she hissed.
“Ya don’t t’ink so?” Luke grinned slightly. “Amazin’ what a little cash can do, don’t ya t’ink?” There was a long silence as the two of them stared at each other. Luke took out another cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag on it. He was right and they both knew it. A few greenbacks went a long way. “So, da money by Sunday, or Faithie takes a walk off da end of a pier, we clear?”
Ruby swallowed hard and stared at the ground, fighting tears. “How will I find you to give you the money?” she finally whispered in defeat.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout dat, I’ll come to you,” Luke replied. “We clear?” Ruby sighed and rubbed at the angry tears flooding her eyes. Unable to speak, she only nodded briefly. Luke nodded as well, taking her hand and bringing to his lips. “Sleep tight, Maggie May.” He kissed the back of her hand, and as he released it, she realized he had pressed something into her palm. Turning her hand over, she unfolded her fingers to see a small cross on a cheap chain. It was Faith’s, a gift from her minister father before he died. She never took it off. Fury swept over Ruby, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Luke was gone; she was alone on the roof. Gritting her teeth, she closed her fingers over the necklace. Faith would have it back, no matter what.
The first thing Faith became aware of was the pain, a dull, aching throb centered around the back of her head. As soon as she acknowledged its existence, the pain flared and spread, making appearances in her arms and legs, and especially in her injured wrist. Biting back a groan, she opened her eyes, got a brief glimpse of her surroundings, and squeezed them shut again. Memory flooded back to her; the afternoon sun, stooping to tie her shoelace, Luke’s voice, the pain exploding in her head, like dynamite had gone off between her ears, then nothing. Blackness, pain, and now this. A scraping sound filled the silence, then the floor creaked as someone left a chair and approached her.
“You’re awake, so don’t bother fakin’,” a man chuckled. Faith resisted the urge to flinch. The voice didn’t belong to Luke; it could only be his brother Roberto, known on the street as Berto, a shorter, uglier, stupider, and distinctly more sadistic version of his criminal elder brother. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the leaping candlelight. She was sitting on the floor of what looked like a small bedroom, the window boarded over with thick planks. A metal framed bed sat against one wall, and it was to one twisted steel post that her uninjured arm was shackled with a set of steel handcuffs. There was a rocking chair in one corner, which was probably where Berto had been sitting when she’d woken up. A gas lamp sat on a small table beside the chair, and was the only source of illumination. “Heyah Faithie,” Berto smirked as he crouched beside her. “How’re ya feelin’?” he asked, running a hand up her leg. Faith tried to jerk away, but was hampered by the handcuffs.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed at him, and the thug laughed.
“Why not? You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he leered at her, and Faith struggled not to let her terror and revulsion show on her face. She was famous for being unflappable, but Berto’s proximity was definitely flap-worthy.
“I tol’ ya to keep yer hands to yerself,” Luke snapped from the doorway of the bedroom.
“Aww, Luke, c’mon,” Berto whined as his brother strolled the rest of the way into the room. A single, scathing look from Luke shut him up, and a scowling Berto went reluctantly back to his chair.
“So yer awake, Faithie,” Luke commented, sauntering over to his hostage. Faith focused on the wooden floor, refusing to look at him. Grasping her chin in his hand, he tilted her head up so that their gazes locked. “None da worse fer wear, neither,” Luke smiled coldly at her. With great effort, Faith kept her expression schooled into that of only contempt, no fear. “I ain’t gonna gag ya, so don’t give me a reason to,” he went on. “Dere ain’t nobody around ta hear ya scream, but if ya even yell, I’ll give ya something ta really scream about.” Berto let out a snicker at that, and Faith clamped down on a shudder. “Yer gonna be heah fer a few days, but don’t worry, we’s gonna take real good care ‘a ya,” Luke grinned, and a chill shot down Faith’s spine. Real good care. Right. “An’ if Ruby comes through wit’ me money, you’ll git ta go home,” he smiled and let go of her chin. Faith jerked her head away from him and resisted the urge to spit at him. “But, make me mad, an’ I’ll leave ya alone wit’ Berto - and trust me on dis - ya won’t like dat,” Luke smirked and shot a glance over his shoulder at his brother, who was grinning eagerly. Faith swallowed hard, fighting down a wave of nausea. “We understand each udda, Faithie?”
“What money?” Faith ground out, glaring up at him. Luke grinned widely, like a cat that had just chowed down on a prized canary.
“Da five hundred dollars yer worth ta Ruby,” he replied. Faith swallowed past the lump in her throat.
“We both know there’s no way she can get that kind of money. You might as well kill me now,” she snapped. It was pure bravado, and they both knew it, but Luke threw his head back and laughed.
“Nah, dat’s da point, see,” Luke smirked. “A’ coise she ain’t gonna be able to get dat much money, so she’ll come ta me, wantin’ ta know what udda ways she can save ya, since yer such good pals.” He leered at Faith, who felt ill. “I’ll be me usual kind self, and we’ll work sumthin’ out.” Berto snickered and Faith closed her eyes briefly. Luke’s grin widened further. “See, it all works out in da end,” he said softly. “I’ll git me girl back, den me territory back, an’ everybody’ll be happy.” Crouching down, he leaned close to Faith, his lips nearly touching hers. “Unless a’ coise ta wanna bargain fer yer life, Faithie,” he whispered, raking a gaze over her. “I might be willin’ ta lissen.”
She spat in his face. Rationally, she knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t help it. “Over my dead body,” she replied tonelessly.
Luke smirked as he straightened to his feet, wiping the liquid off his face. Still smiling, he ran a languid hand over her light brown hair. “That can be arranged, sweetheart, so don’t tempt me.”
Sunday was fast approaching, and she was no closer to five hundred dollars than she had been two days ago. Ruby propped her elbows on the bar and stared forlornly into the mug of beer before her. She’d tried everything, gone to everyone for help. Even if she accepted what everyone had offered, she was still nowhere near the amount she needed to help Faith. She’d even finally broken down and gone to Brooklyn for help, but Spot wouldn’t even see her to talk to her. She didn’t know why, but there would be no help from that avenue this time. It was hopeless, absolutely hopeless.
“Now you looks like a lady who needs cheerin’ up,” a voice remarked from beside her, and a large hand reached into her line of vision, taking hold of her drink and downing the remains of it. Ruby sighed out loud.
“Go away, Bastian, I ain’t in da mood,” she muttered. The boy beside her chuckled as he signaled Joe for more beer. Normally Ruby didn’t come all the way to Queens to go to a billiards hall, but it was comforting to her somehow, being there where Faith would usually be on a Saturday night, even if the atmosphere in Rye’s was unusually solemn.
“See, now, dat was part a’ da problem wit’ us,” the Brooklyn boy commented cheerfully as he settled his tall frame onto a barstool. “You was never in da mood when I was around. Wit’ everybody else ya was, but never wit’ me.”
On any other day, this remark would have earned her on again - off again lover at least a good slap, but tonight Ruby didn’t even acknowledge it, beyond another sighed “go away, Bastian.”
“It’s gonna be all right, Rubes,” he told her quietly, in a gentle tone that he only ever used with her. Ruby finally looked at him.
“Everyone keeps sayin’ that,” she mumbled, accepting the mug of beer the bartender placed in front of her. “We’ve been tryin’ fer days ta come up wit’ sumthin, but we can’t do nuthin’. Five hundred dollars might as well be a million. If I don’t come up wit’ either da money or a way to help Faith, Luke’ll - ” she stopped and swallowed hard. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout tryin’ ta talk to him, convince ‘im ta let Faith go, and do whatever wit’ me.”
Bastian shook his sandy blonde head. “Don’t even think about it,” he ordered forcefully. A few of the nearby Queens newsies looked up from their game of billiards, exchanging glances as their interest was caught and they strained to eavesdrop. “Ya know dat’s ‘zactly what Luke wants,” he reminded her, and Ruby nodded slightly. “Lemme tell ya sumthin, Rubes,” Bastian went on, dropping his voice. “It’s gonna be all right, Spot’s got everythin’ under control.”
Ruby’s head snapped up. “Spot?” she repeated. “He wouldn’t even talk ta me when I went to see him,” she admitted morosely. Bastian nodded calmly.
“It’s a trap, Ruby, don’t ya see it? When Luke comes fer da money, we’ll be waitin’ for ‘im,” he explained.
“But how will - ” she began, but Bastian shook his head.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Brooklyn’s got it covered,” he assured her. “We’ve got some scores ta settle.” His full mouth was set into a hard, cold line. “An’ don’t worry ‘bout Faith, she’s fine.”
“How do you know that?” Ruby blurted out, staring at him.
“Luke an’ Berto’s got her locked up in dere new apartment, down on da waterfront, ‘bout two blocks down from wheah dey used ta live, ya know da condemned tenement buildin’ on da corner? Pretty brazen of ‘em ta move in dere, but I guess dat was da point, dey never thought we’d expect ‘em to be so close, ya know?”
Ruby gaped at him. “If you know where she is, why don’t you go help her?” she demanded, and Bastian shushed her quickly.
“’Cause it won’t work if Luke don’t think he got da upper hand. Trust me, Ruby, Faith is all right an’ everything’s gonna be fine.”
There was a long silence as Ruby and her sometimes lover stared at each other. She should have known Brooklyn would have it covered. Luke’s fatal mistake was thinking he could walk casually back into Conlon’s territory and set himself back up, as if the old days had never occurred. Of course Spot would never let that happen.
Finally, the red haired girl sighed and looked away. “You’d better be right about this.”
“Of course I’m right!”
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Noah muttered as he followed Hunter, Cabot and Reese down a dark alley by the Brooklyn waterfront.
“Shut up, Kingston,” Cabot said over his shoulder.
“But Bastian said Brooklyn had it under control,” Noah pointed out reasonably, “What if we’re messing their plans up somehow?” It was Hunter who stopped and turned to glare at the taller boy.
“Shut up, Noah, I don’t care what Brooklyn’s got planned, dose Forlanis could be doin’ anything ta Faith in dere, and I, fer one, ain’t gonna wait another minute to git her out, ya got dat?” he snapped, and Noah nodded slightly.
“Yer missin’ yer white horse and yer suit a’ armour,” Cabot smirked and Hunter shot him a dark look.
“Shut up, da bunch a’ yas,” he mumbled, looking up at the dark building before them. “I think dis is it. Bastian told Ruby it was da tenement on da corner, two blocks down from da old warehouse, right?”
Reese nodded, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, unless Deveer was blowin’ steam, dis is it,” he said. He pointed to an illuminated window on the third floor. “Up dere.”
“All right,” Hunter cast a look around at the other Queens boys. “Let’s do it.”
The first thing she was going to do if she ever got home, Faith mused as she sat in silence, still shackled to the bedpost, was take a long, hot bath. Just the way Berto Forlani looked at her made her skin crawl. Thank God he was afraid of his brother; she didn’t want to think what would happen if Luke gave Berto free rein to do with her as he pleased.
“Hey Faithie, how’re ya doin’?” As if conjured by the dark path of her thoughts, Berto stuck his head into the bedroom, leering at her as he waved a bottle of whiskey. Faith ignored him, focusing on a patch of scuffed wood on the paneling of the floor. “Hey, I’m talkin’ ta you,” Berto frowned as he stumbled into the room. Faith went cold as she realized that Berto was drunk and Luke was nowhere to be seen. Stiffening, she drew her legs up to her chest, huddling against the wall behind her, wishing she could melt right into it and be safe from that horrible way Berto was smirking at her. “Looks like it’s jus’ you an’ me, doll.”
“Go to hell,” Faith muttered under her breath.
“What’s dat?” Berto smirked and took another sip of the whiskey. “I didn’t hear ya.”
Faith looked up and met his gaze directly. “Go. To. Hell.” She pronounced each word precisely.
Berto frowned. “Ya shouldn’t talk ta me like dat, Faithie, it ain’t nice. An’ ya oughtta be nice ta me, ‘cause den I’ll be nice ta you,” he said, putting down the bottle and approaching her. Faith gritted her teeth, wishing he’d put the bottle down closer to her; she would have happily broken it over his head if she could have gotten her hands on it. Of course, realistically, she couldn’t hold anything with her left hand, because of the splint, and her right was still shackled to the bedpost. Berto leered as he crouched beside her, picking up a strand of her long hair and twirling it around a thick finger. “Ya wanna have some fun, doll?” Faith opened her mouth, aiming to spit in his eye, but a crash from out in the living room drew her up short. “What da hell…?” Distracted, Berto looked over his shoulder, frowning. “What was dat?” he wondered, getting to his feet. “Don’t go nowhere, Faithie” he added, chuckling at his own wit as he left the room.
There was a brief of moment of silence, then another crash preceded shouts and yells, then the sounds of a fight coming from the apartment’s main room. Faith strained to see around the doorframe, barely letting herself hope. Then, the door banged wide open and the last person she’d ever expected to see came skidding into the bedroom.
“Hunter?” she blurted out, her eyebrows shooting up, which on unflappable, unemotional Faith Montgomery was akin to absolute astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
Hunter wiped at his bleeding nose and managed a sheepish, lopsided grin. “I think we’re savin’ da day.”
The air outside was blessedly cool and quiet, compared to the warmth and noise inside Rye’s. Ruby stopped as the door swung shut behind her and took a deep, calming breath.
“Ya shoah ya wanna walk all da way back ta Harlem?” Bastian sighed, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, cupping his hands around it to shield it from the night breeze.
“Where else do ya expect me ta sleep tonight?” Ruby muttered over her shoulder as she pushed away from the building. The Brooklyn boy followed reluctantly.
“Oh, I dunno, my bed maybe,” he suggested and Ruby rolled her eyes without bothering to look back at him.
“Not tonight, Sebastian,” she sighed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her ragged trousers as she began to walk.
“Bettah den walkin’ all da way back ta Harlem,” Bastian grumbled, handing her the cigarette. Ruby snorted as she took a deep drag.
“I’d rather walk,” she muttered under her breath. “Besides,” she added in a normal tone, “we ain’t gonna walk the whole way. There’ll be a trolley.”
“It’s still friggin’ far,” Bastian griped, falling into step beside her. “Den I gots ta come all da way back ta Brooklyn… shoot.”
Ruby rolled her eyes heavenward and flicked away the finished cigarette. “You can prob’ly crash in the parlour in Harlem,” she offered. “But the girls’ll have me head if I stayed out all night right now, wit’ everythin’ goin’ on,” she said quietly. “They’d worry.”
“I guess,” Bastian conceded, and the two lapsed into silence. “We don’t gotta do nuthin’, just sleep,” he added hopefully a few moments later. Ruby stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Bastian, I’m not goin’ home wit’ you, all right?” she frowned at him. “Now get over it.”
“But Ruby - ”
“Sebastian.” Her voice held a warning note. “No.”
“Yer cute when ya get mad,” Bastian teased, grabbing her around the waist.
“Would you cut it out?” Ruby demanded, thoroughly annoyed. “This ain’t da time or da place!” She gave him a firm shove and turned on her heel, starting down an alley that was a shortcut to the bridge that led over the river to Manhattan, and eventually, Harlem.
“Aw, Rubes, c’mon,” Bastian sighed and hurried to catch up with her, turning her around to face him. “I’m jus’ tryin’ ta git yer mind off a’ things, dat’s all.” He smiled reassuringly as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “It’s gonna be all right, really.”
“No, Bastian, it ain’t, really.”
The familiar voice came out of the blackness, and a shadow reared up from the back of the alley. There was a flash of silver in the moonlight, and a horrible gurgling noise in the silence.
“BASTIAN!” Ruby screamed his name, but it was too late, the blood was already coursing down his chest, soaking his shirt, his vest, black on black. Time seemed to stand still for an agonizing moment, then Sebastian Deveer crumpled into a bloody heap, his throat slit, his life blood gushing out onto the cobblestones. “Oh, God, Bastian,” Ruby dropped to her knees and pressed her hands to the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
He was already dead.
“Hello, darlin’.”
Luke swooped down, grabbed a handful of Ruby’s curly red hair and hauled her brutally to her feet. She cried out in pain as he swung her away from Bastian’s body, throwing her into the alley wall and pinning her there. “Nice weather, ain’t it?” he smirked at her, the blade that had just ended the life of her former lover and dear friend pressed lightly to her own throat. “I hope yer havin’ a better night than I am, sweetheart.”
“You – you killed Bastian,” Ruby gasped out, tears streaming down her face.
Luke smiled that disturbing smile. “As I seem ta recall, ‘e had it comin’,” he shrugged, running the tip of the blade down from her throat to her chest, letting it rest between her breasts, barely touching the cloth of her shirt. “I’ve had a very bad night, Maggie May,” he remarked, smiling at her. “Would ya like ta hear ‘bout my bad night?”
Ruby couldn’t even shake her head; she’d never been so terrified in her entire life. She’d seen Luke in rages before, but never like this, never with this insanity sparking behind his eyes. She swallowed hard, and Luke’s smile widened as he brought the knife back up to rest at the hollow of her throat. “Lemme tell you about my night,” he said softly. “I went out fer a few hours, not too long. I came back, and do you know what I found? Me bruddah’d been beat to a snot, me apartment was trashed and - ” he paused and turned the blade in a slow circle, not quite touching her skin - “me insurance plan was missin’.”
Ruby’s heart leapt. Faith! They’d saved her, they’d gotten her away from him, oh thank God!
“So, as ya can see, I’m not in a very good mood,” Luke was going on, his gaze now on the knife’s tip, pressed so lightly to her throat. “In fact, I’m pretty pissed off, ya know?”
Ruby made herself nod slightly. I’m going to die now, she thought frantically. I just hope it doesn’t hurt too much.
He raised his eyes to hers and smiled, manic malevolent intent lurking behind those perfect features.
“So, I says ta meself, Luke me boy, what can ya do ta make yerself feel better after such a perfect disaster of a night?” Luke went on, taking a step back. Still smiling, he folded up the knife and stored it away in his vest pocket. Ruby swallowed hard, frozen in place. Even if she ran, she wouldn’t get so much as step. She was trapped. “An’ dere’s a few things I kin think of.”
He backhanded her casually, the blow sending her to her knees. She cried out in pain, feeling as though the entire left side of her face was on fire. “I don’t suggest ya scream,” he remarked, almost solicitously, “or I may have to cut out your tongue, and that would be a pity, since yer so talented wit’ it.” Tangling a hand in her hair, he yanked her head back, exposing her throat. “Do you wanna die, Maggie May?”
“Luke, please - ” Ruby gasped as he hauled her back to her feet. I will not die like this, she thought. I will not. Desperate strength flooded through her, and with a cry of fury rather than fear, she flew at him, curving her fingers into claws and going for his eyes. Luke blocked the blow, and they struggled; somewhere above the grunts and shouts of combat, she heard the clatter of metal on cobblestones.
The knife.
“I remember how much I like ya spunky,” Luke laughed as he threw her to the ground, standing over her and blocking her as she tried to scuttle away. A smirk of triumph was on his face as he began to undo his belt. The knife was somewhere nearby, she felt for it desperately, her fingers flying over the stones. Find it, find it before he realizes he’s dropped it! “Bastian was right, yer cute when yer mad,” Luke added, chuckling as he reached for her. There!
Her fingers closed over the metal, and as Luke leaned down for her, she swung up, aiming for his throat, burying the blade deep in the soft flesh where his neck met his shoulder.
Luke’s eyes went huge in surprise, his mouth dropping open as blood welled up and began to gush. He scrabbled at the handle, but couldn’t get a grip to pull it out. Ruby sobbed in horror as she crawled away, watching him as he stood there for an eternity, just swaying slightly.
“You - bitch,” he finally gasped out, and staggered, falling to his knees. Their gazes locked for a long, dreadful moment, then Luke pitched forward onto his face and was still.
Later, Ruby would have no recollection of how she managed to make her way from that dark alley in Queens back home to the Harlem Lodging House. The doctor would say it was shock, combined with the beating she’d received. Her next coherent memory was of sunlight, bright and warm, shining across her face. She opened her eyes, blinking in the brightness, listening to the strangely subdued murmur of voices as the other Harlem newsgirls got ready for their day. She frowned slightly, wondering why no one had told her to get up, get moving, time to sell.
Oh God.
Memory cracked in her mind like a whip, and she bolted into a sitting position, letting out an inadvertent cry of pain as her abused body protested the motion.
“Ruby, you’re awake!” The familiar voice sounded greatly relieved, and she looked up to see Ash hurrying across the room, Verity and Imp on her heels. The rest of the Harlem girls followed, gathering around the bed.
“Bastian, what happened to Bastian?” Ruby blurted out, struggling to swing her legs over the edge of the bunk. Her whole body felt like one huge bruise, and moving was difficult.
Skies bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. “Ruby, I’m sorry,” she sighed and Ruby went still, searching the other girl’s expression.
“He’s dead?” she whispered. “It wasn’t a dream? Luke really killed him?”
“I’m sorry,” Skies repeated.
“But you got Forlani,” Fingers spoke up fiercely.
Ruby opened her mouth and closed it, unable to formulate an answer. “Bastian’s really dead?” she repeated, tears overflowing. The other girls looked at each in silence, not knowing what to say.
“But it’s over,” Verity finally put in gently. “You’re safe now, Luke’s gone.”
“And Faith is all right,” Gypsy added. “They got her out and she’s back in Queens, not even a scratch on her.” She smiled reassuringly at Ruby, who buried her face in her hands.
“He killed him,” she sobbed. “He came out of nowhere and just - ” She made a vague slashing motion with her hand. “There was so much blood, and I couldn’t do anything….” The Harlem newsgirls exchanged concerned looks. There was nothing anyone could say to that.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Verity offered, quietly.
“It was my fault! I have to - Spot has to – Bastian - ” Ruby was barely even coherent as she tried to stand up, her knees nearly refusing to support her.
“Oh, no ya don’t.” It was Fingers who shoved her back.
“It’s taken care of,” Skies added.
Ruby just shook her head.
Bastian’s dead.
It was much later when Ruby awoke again, only able to sleep after being administered a large dose of laudanum from Mrs. Evans’ emergency medicine cabinet. It was late afternoon, judging from the slant of the sunlight through the window. Wincing in pain, she swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and got shakily to her feet. Every inch of her ached – but she was alive, more than cold be said for some people - and it was with great care that she made her way over to the window. Wrapping her arms around herself, she peered out. The hysteria was gone now, and for a long time, she huddled there by the window, thinking and quietly grieving for her lost friend.
Bastian. Dear, loyal Bastian who had loved her so, even when she hadn’t loved him, was dead now, because of her. She couldn’t even bear to think of him, of the way he’d always smiled and laughed and been one of the best things in her whole life.
There was the slightest creak of a floorboard behind her and she looked up, not at all surprised to see the boy in the doorway.
“Hey Spot,” she whispered, and the Brooklyn leader inclined his head in reply.
“Ya all right?”
Ruby shrugged. “I guess,” she murmured, touching a hand to the bruises on her face. Physically, she’d heal – emotionally… Bastian - Silence, then Spot moved across the floor and held his hand out.
“Heah.” Ruby frowned as she looked from his hand to his face and back again. “I think it was his mudda’s,” Spot explained as she accepted the small cameo locket he was offering. “He woulda wanted you ta have it.”
“Thank you,” Ruby murmured, biting her lip to keep even more tears back. Clicking open the little catch mechanism, she looked at the tiny portraits inside, one of a delicate featured woman, and the other of a man who, despite his beard, looked a great deal like Bastian. “Thank you,” she repeated, a little more loudly this time. Silence descended. There was something – she needed to ask, even if it was the worst possible thing to bring up now, of all the moments... “Does... does Four Eyes know?”
Another silence, but of a different kind - cold, full of memories and betrayals. For a long moment, she didn’t think the Brooklyn leader was going to answer her, until he spoke, his voice low, expressionless. “Dove went to da Bronx.”
So he knew. She closed her eyes against the tears and nodded. Bastian. Dear Bastian, could this really be happening?
“Dey’s buryin’ ‘im at St. Mark’s,” Spot finally said quietly. Ruby flinched at the thought of burying the laughing boy who had loved her so, but managed to nod her head slightly, not taking her gaze off the locket. When she finally did look up, Spot was gone as silently as he’d arrived. Resting her head against the glass of the window and holding the locket tightly in her fist, she let the tears flow freely.
“I still don’t think it’s right,” Gypsy sighed, frowning as she yanked a brush through her hair.
“Why not?” Ruby looked up from the mirror, where she was intent on covering the remains of her bruises with face powder.
“Doesn’t it seem rather... disrespectful?” Ash pointed out softly.
Ruby managed a sad little smile. “Bastian wouldn’t have wanted us all sittin’ around bein’ sad an’ cryin’ and stuff. He woulda wanted us ta have a party ta celebrate ‘is life, ya know? A big one wit’ a good game a’ poker and lots a’ whiskey.” Part of her agreed with Gypsy, a party was hardly appropriate, unless one had known Sebastian Deveer, in which case, it was appropriate, extremely so. For a moment she stopped and thought about that, about the poker that would be played tonight, about the game that Bastian wouldn't have a chance to lose. Shaking herself, she tried to focus on the truth of her own words. He woulda wanted it this way.
"I guess you’re right,” Gypsy shrugged and Ruby nodded.
“Hey,” Imp stuck her head around the doorframe. “Boys are here.”
“Down in a sec,” Skies called after the younger girl. “You goin’ wit’ Reese, Ruby?” she asked the redhead. Ruby wrinkled up her nose as she fastened Bastian’s mother’s locket around her throat.
“Nah, Ty,” she replied, and Flash grinned.
“How come? I thought you and Reese was tagedda,” she remarked.
“Dat was da problem, ‘e was getting too sure a’ himself,” Ruby replied absently, pausing to fluff her hair in the mirror. For a moment, she stopped, staring at her reflection. Bastian - God, she missed him.
“Yer a tramp, Ruby,” Spider snorted affectionately, bringing her back to earth.
“You say dat like it’s a bad thing,” Ruby shot back, but without her usual spirit.
A little while later, as she left the Harlem Lodging House on the arm of Ty Garret, an East Harlem newsboy, Ruby caught her shawl on a nail protruding from the doorframe. She paused to untangle it, and as she did, she felt the distinctly icy prickle of eyes on the back of her neck. Frowning, she looked up, peering into the darkness that surrounded the lodging house. There was no one around to be seen.
“Ya comin’ Ruby?” Ty grinned and slipped an arm around her waist.
For a moment she still looked, straining to see into the shadows, certain that someone was there, watching her. “Yeah, I’m comin’,” she finally said, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders as Ty led her out into the early autumn night. She cast another glance behind her, then dismissed the whole thing as they joined the others.
Back in the alley by the lodging house, a tiny pinpoint of light flared in the gloom, the end of a lit cigarette. Smoke curled towards the sky as a soft chuckle filled the silence. “Have fun, Maggie May,” a silky voice murmured. “We’ll be seein’ each udda again real soon.”
