Red is roaring. She can hear his claws try to rip through their binds, again and again and again. Aisha is quiet. Losing herself to sobs. Finnerty can only hear their reactions, bound as she is in shadow. But they all make Henri Ombras smile.

  “See, Raven,” he kneels right beside her from the catwalks they’re suspended on. “If you were just fucking around in my Sovereignty, stealing any old weeping Kept, I’d turn the other way. But no. You walk into my backyard and try to steal our top fucking fugitive!”

  “Who's sayin' I did it?"

  “It wasn't Red.” He looks at the other two, shouting with a singsong voice. “Welcome home, Josiah! Long time! I suppose the Captain’s last warning didn’t get through?!”

  “GO TA HELL, OMBRAS!"

  Henri puts a hand over his heart, feigning charm.

  “Henri… you know why I did it!” Aisha’s eyes continue to glow. Orange lights melding with her tears. “You know what they’ll do. We talked about this!”

  “YOU TALKED ABOUT THIS!?” Finnerty shouts.

  “You forget the Court’s cardinal rule, Ms. Lakhani!” He wags a finger. “We can bitch away at the injustice of it all. So long as it doesn’t change.”

  “You told me you’d distract them. You said the Shadow-Walkers would help!”

  “I lied!” He makes jazz hands as he says it. “I do that all the time. Never assume I'll act in your best interests, Aisha! It’s gotten a lot of people killed.”

  Finnerty’s focusing inward. Short, clipped breaths. The sensation on her wrists is bringing something deep outside of her. Something that makes her feathers stand on end. Her mouth is twitching. Sweat is forming. Shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have FUCKING

  “Aisling!”

  She blinks. Looks down. Jayden’s still there, still surrounded by Oathsworn. A gun barrel in his face. Three gun barrels in his face. Instincts kick in. Distract them. Distract them. Give him time. Give him-

  “HEY JACKASS!”

  Sometimes, her instincts rolled shit.

  Henri was still in the middle of a monologue when he hears her. Turns around. Finnerty forcibly cranes her neck to see him. “You fink suckin’ cock will make ‘em start likin’ you?”

  Ombras chuckles. Relaxed. Unperturbed. “Right now, you’re the one eating my leather-"

  “Not yours. The Court’s. Five-’undred years it’s been, innit? You’d fink ‘ey’d give you a title.”

  Henri’s eye twitches at that. She cackles.

  “Just as a prank. Just for fookin' kicks!"

  “I could shove my hand through your intestines and use them to play jump-rope.”

  She hicks. The tendrils are even more taut. Enough to cause screaming pain.

  Henri's smile has warped. Rows of needle-sharp teeth appearing from nowhere. “You’re trying to be bold. Aren’t you, Raven? But do you know why you’re still alive? Why we don’t just storm what’s left of your little Freehold and put all the sewer rats to rest?” The smile has grown impossibly large. “It’s not because we can’t. Mon Dieu, look at your King. Gnats die less easily.”

  She’s breathing sharply. Struggling to keep her body in place.

  His tongue flicks out. “Someone considers it, a passing thought, every two or three years. But then we send agents to that little shithole-”

  “Fffffffuck you!” She manages.

  A screech. Even tighter. “And they report that you’re looting corner shops. Biting kids. Getting high. And we’re forced to remind ourselves that any scraps of London that you’re in charge of couldn't possibly be worth the effort."

  Suddenly, the pain stops. She sinks into the tendrils, floating dozens of feet from the ground.

  “I’d hate to end such a lovely dictatorship, Raven. Especially one so dear to our latest Reeve.” He smiles at that. “So Iet’s put an end to this bird-brained little scheme. Walk away now, and that shithole stays yours.”

  Her eyes lose focus. Memories and memories, too many to grasp. Hands on wrists. Shouting. Biting. Hands on wrists. Punching. Screams. Hands on wrists. Hands on wrists. Hands on wrists.

  “OMBRAS!”

  Red and Aisha writhe in the background. “FUCK YOU!”

  “You don’t think you can actually help them, do you?” Henri’s voice goes soft. “You couldn’t help the East End. You couldn’t help your Keeper. And you certainly can't help yourself.”

  She grits her teeth. Eyes clouded over.

  “Come on, Aisling. They don’t know us like we do. The part this world has us play.”

  Live live live live fuck them fuck them fuckthemfuckthemLIVELIVE

  “We're monsters.” His lips touch her ear. “We're nothing.”

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

  Flash. Heat. Piercing orange light. Suddenly, there’s no grip. Gravity’s taking her. Finnerty falls and falls until crash, the table, sharp pain across her elbows, concrete by her knees. There’s a commotion at her side, Jayden seizing the moment. Guns firing. Henri slinks back like a spider, the tendrils joining him. Some smoke as if burnt. His eyes are wide.

  A thud as Red lands. But Aisha Lakhani stays right where she was. Eyes alight as an aura surrounds her blood, and flames build in her hands. Her arms twitch. Convulse with horrific, bone-cracking jerks. As if the magic is barely contained. Breaking her body in its bid to get out.

  “Tirer-leur dessus!” Henri says before blinking, switching languages. “SHOOT HER!”

  Bullets whizz past. Hit concrete. Miss her. Aisha closes her eyes, stops her breath. Veins twisting. Bones breaking. Her arms twist a dozen, lifting towards the guards.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  Before giving another shrill cry.

  The flame is white with heat. Finnerty watches guns melt before her eyes. The men caught by it don’t burn as much as they implode.

  She’ll never forget the sight. Or the screams.

  “AISLING!” Jayden's voice.

  She turns just in time to meet the Oathsworn's fist with her nose.

  A crack. A shout. A struggle. She flails, hitting his arms, kicking his legs. Blood seeping into her mouth. She’s slammed. Head on wall. She spits. It doesn’t blind him. Anger. Squeezing. Slam slam slam.

  She's in the air. Flailing about. Kicks her boot on the wall. A tiny blade. She thrusts. Skin. Bone. Scream.

  She flips as he drops her. Feet in the air. Gives his face the hardest kick she can give. The blade enters his jaw.

  The world has gone chaotic. It’s still dark, still shrouded. Only spurts of gunfire shine past it, and Aisha’s blinding flames. She hears feet. Cocking guns. Leaps on her corpse, searches its hip. Knife. Beretta. She throws one. Fires the other. Bodies fall. Faces she never sees.

  Then crash. Cold metal. She’s on the ground, ears ringing. The chair is thrown to the ground, a boot on her spine forcing a twitch. The Oathsworn smiles. Hits again. Again. Kicks the knife from her trembling hand, puts it on her throat.

  “Poproshchaysya…”

  He forgot the gun. She fires. Too close. It bursts her eardrum and grazes her skin. But it stuns him, he's stunned. She twists. And leaps. And grabs. And brings him down. Climbs on top. Thrashing. Biting. Clobbering.

  “Niet, niet! Pozhaluysta-”

  She bites his throat. The Wilds rejoice in the juices. She pulls, and pulls, and pulls. His larynx stretching like a rubber band.

  She doesn’t hear the howls when the band finally snaps. She isn't here.

  She’s on the streets again.

  “BIRD!”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  She flips a table. Just before it rains. Ratatatatatatatatatata. She scrunches. Bullets occasionally denting the frame. Then boom. From the side. Eight shots, evenly-spread, all piercing through. She looks. Pales. Man has his own cover. Starts to reload. But Jayden lunges. Falling on top of him. There’s a knife in his hand. He cuts across his palm.

  Blood falls. Sizzling. Foul-smelling. She watches a spare drop take an inch off the concrete. Then screams, from the Oathsworn. He clutches his face. It’s dripping through the gaps in his fingers.

  “I’ll cover!” Jayden pulls an Uzi from the side. Lets the bullets ring.

  Finnerty sprints. Flames springing to life in the distance with her steps. She slides into Jayden’s spot, throwing the still-horrified Oathsworn out.

  “The fawk’s goin’ on!?”

  “You tink I know!?”

  A high-pitched shriek. Like a banshee’s wail. Finnerty dares to look beyond, and sees a single, glowing body. Aisha flies across the room, buzzing like a bee. The flames never leave her hands. Something rises up to greet her. A snake, or a dragon. It’s lightless and formless, its teeth whole feet long. It’s made out of faces. Outstretched arms. Human screams.

  She’s frozen. Stock-still. Jayden’s voice breaks the fugue. “What do we fahkin’ do?!”

  She runs.

  A full-on sprint. Right for the entrance. Tendrils try to stop her. Oathsworn try to stop her. She snatches one of their guns. Unloads the whole clip. Then moves again. Jayden struggles to keep pace as she pushes herself through doors. Air. Light.

  “Bird!” He shouts as they’re in the tunnel. “BIRD!”

  She hasn’t stopped. She can’t stop.

  “We ‘ave to go back!” He races along. “We can’t just-”

  “WE CAN’T CHANGE SHIT!”

  Jayden halts. In those few flickering lights, he sees Finnerty’s face. Taut. Hollow. Covered in men’s blood, and specked with her own tears.

  “Stupid.” She slowly lifts a shaking hand, punching her own chest. “Stupid." Punch. "Worthless." Punch. "They deserve it, they deserve it, they deserve-"

  "Deserve what?" She looks up. Jayden's lifting his hands. Trying to calm a bear. “Bird…”

  She’s gone. Tearing back down the hall. The Shadow-Walker’s words, captured in her mind.

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  Why does the tunnel last so long?

  Why does it feel like she’s running forever?

  Finnerty is out of breath. She can’t be, but she is. Her body burns in a thousand places. Chest. Gut. Legs. Head. She stops, her face in her hands, before running into the wall and slamming her forehead into it. Hard.

  “WHORE!” She screams. Punching the wall. “Coward. Freak. BAD BAD BAD BAD!”

  She’s scratching her arm. Scratching and scratching. With her claws out, it doesn’t take long before she’s drawing blood.

  It’s Red’s fault. Always ALWAYS people like Red. They think there’s justice. They think there are heroes. They FUCKING LIE! Everyone takes and takes and takes and takes and she should take too!

  She screams. Grabs her hair. Pulling it. She's not being smart. She's not being good. She can't do it. She can't do it. They don't matter. They CANNOT. FUCKING. MATTER!

  She freezes. Grunting. The tunnel shakes with war. Gunfire. Explosions. It’s bringing her back. To the chaos. The rubble. The crowds. She sinks to her knees. Sirens are wailing, hoses are blasting, and through it all, there’s…

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  October, 1940

  “Are ya scared?”

  Finnerty looks up. She’s surrounded by rocks and rebar, the colours and signs of the Tube tunnel barely shown in the lantern’s light. A bomb has knocked a bit of their shelter away, revealing a sky that’s alight with fires. Tiny puffs of black, poisonous clouds.

  "No," she lies.

  The red-haired girl smiles, scooches a little closer. A rifle leaning by her side. “Ya know, it’s alright ta be scared-"

  “I’m NOT!”

  Finnerty bares her teeth, and inches away. It’s their fourth hour hiding. Every moment, the walls grow taller. Every moment, their lantern dims.

  Finnerty pulls her knees close to her chest. “It’s over, innit?"

  “What's over?"

  “‘Ey’ve got Holland, an’ Greece, an’ fookin’ France. You fink the gov’s gonna stick ‘round wiff Germans bombin' 'eir fookin' homes?!" She laughs, lifelessly, her head sinking into her knees. “Smarter to barter. Smarter to live. M-Maybe Hitler will lettem keep 'eir titles if 'ey do what 'e says. 'At's what 'ey're finkin', right? It's always worked before. An it's just..." She chokes down a sob. "It's just a couple... just a couple of Je... Je..."

  She can't finish. She knows what's coming for her. For Harav. Her ravens had soared across the water. They had seen. Seen more than anyone should.

  She closes her eyes and stays like that. Her breaths ragged. Her body trembling. After a while, it's broken by a soft voice.

  "I think they'll still help you."

  Finnerty opens one eye. Side-glancing from the knees. "Why?"

  Harriet purses her lips, considering. "... 'cause they're stupid?"

  She chuckles at herself. That single eye squints.

  "It's like ya said, right? Smart thing ta quit. Smart thing ta... give it all away. An' I'll bet a bosom that many a' them bandits do. But... but there's always one fuckin' idiot who jes' says 'fuck it' an' digs in. Right? An' this-"

  A massive rumbling interrupts her. Flames surge high into the air. More concrete blocks fall.

  "- An' this war, this enemy... I think people know, Ashlin'. People know we gotta be stupid this time."

  "And if 'ey don't?" Finnerty's voice is weak.

  "If they don't?" Harriet reaches back, holds out her rifle. "Then I'm yer idiot, Ashlin'. I will kill every Nazi bastard between here an' Hitler 'fore I let them get their paws on you." The gun cocks. "Even if I die."

  "You're always an idiot, Fireside."

  Finnerty lifts her head. Her eyes still bloodshot, but a thin smile on her lips.

  Harriet meets it with a big, toothy grin. "Better ta die stupid, if yer dyin' fer somethin' right."

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  2004

  She sits with her arms slumped over. Staring at the wall. The abyss.

  Trainers on concrete. Jayden’s still sprinting, and when he sees, slides ungracefully to a stop. “Bird, we’se gotta move.” He looks back, tugs on her arm. “Dey won’t keep Ombras for long!”

  She rises to her feet, searching his eyes. It's fearful, just like hers. That familiar coil around her chest. Nothing, he called her. Nothing.

  She taps her toes on the concrete before turning around.

  Sprinting back towards the Shadow-Walker. Down the way she came.

  “Wha-” Jayden doesn't bother trying to keep up this time. “BIRD!"

  The tunnel’s shorter now. Her steps echoing, air in her face. She barrels through the door with closed eyes. Easier if she doesn't see. Easier if she doesn't think.

  “Ombras! OMBRAS!”

  The shadows spill out like pressurised air, and she can feel the tendrils slithering past. No reply. She curses, clamping on her heel so that the boot-knife returns. The thrust she gives makes something large hiss, and soon enough, she's riveting through the air. Hung upside down by her ankles.

  "You've never fucked-"

  "I'll fucking kill you!"

  "What is it?"

  She pales. Stomping with weight, rising from the shadows, is a horridly large creature. It's skin writhes with whispering figures - pleading, screaming, threatening. It has no eyes, no nose, nothing to focus on but white teeth in a Cheshire Cat grin.

  She swallows. Swaying lightly, against her will. "I wanna talk."

  "Talk?" The entire room quivers with his laugh.

  “I need the witch." She keeps a straight face. "I'll buy 'er."

  A gulp. A single thin tendril has reached out from the mass, sliding over her cheek. "We can’t bargain if we both want what we’re bargaining for.”

  “I didn’t say want,” she scowls. “I said need.”

  Suddenly, the fog swells. She coughs, her eyes stinging, like pepper spray. By the time she blinks past it, a new, smaller shape has taken the monster's place. A platform, midnight black, hoisted into the air by hundreds of slimy, stacking, shadowy hands. Henri Ombras stands at its top, dishevelled, and clearly unamused.

  "I'm not like you, Raven." He clears his throat. "Sovereignty is not a pass allowing me to act as I please-”

  “I’ll make it worff your while,” she interrupts. “Startin’ wiff ‘at binder.”

  His eye twitches. Thank God.

  “‘At’s what your after, right?” She forces a smile. “See, lil' Miss Firecracker won’t lemme know what’s in it, but wiff you an’ 'er so fookin' close..."

  “It needs to be returned," he hisses.

  “Except you aren't plannin’ to fookin’ return it.” Finnerty gestures to the floor. “You didn't bring your vamp friends to take us down 'ere, Ombras. You brought Oathsworn.

  Finnerty starts swinging herself. To and fro.

  “Foreign, Don't-Know-English, expendable Oathsworn."

  "Are you implying that I would dare commit treason?"

  "I'm implyin' you'd sell your mother for five fookin' quid." She shakes her head. “You’re gonna hide whatever ‘at research found. Eivver sell it for the highest buck, or bury it, 'cause frightens you."

  Henri folds his arms.

  "It does, don't it?"

  Still no reply. Finnerty puts more force into her swings. Getting ever closer to Ombras.

  “But ‘at’s just it, Henry. Where I come in.” She finally reaches it. Grabbing the hem of his coat, and using it to keep herself by him. “‘Cause, see…"

  She flashes a Cheshire Cat to match his own.

  I"’m an excellent fookin’ hider.”

  He looks down at her, scowling. “And if somebody discovers our little scheme?”

  “‘At’s…” Suddenly, the world starts to spin. She's let go. “... part two! See… I’ve got one of the best collections of digital shit ‘is side of the Atlantic. Pornos. Malwares. Intel."

  “Who do I know if it's good intel?"

  "Last I checked, it blew half your fookin' face off."

  A flicker in Ombras' form. A gaunt cheek, suddenly missing. It disappears as quickly as it came. Finnerty beams as she swings back. One of her better plans.

  "I've got it all, Ombras! Reeves. Magisters. The Bitch Queen herself. An' if you wanna really look good, I'll drop an address or two from the Freeholds."

  "Freeholds?" Henri squints. "You'd sell out the Unbound?"

  "Gimme what I want, an' I'll deliver 'em in golden fookin' handcuffs."

  His silence is good. It means she’s gotten through the first wall, his endlessly grating quips and sarcasms.

  “What’s not to like, Ombras? You win at every angle."

  “It’s illegal,” he points out.

  “When has ‘at ever fookin' stopped you?”

  A pause. A tendril taps along his chin. “... these drives. I’ll want to choose them myself. Verify that they work. That the intel is valuable.”

  “If you'se can stand the stench." She grins.

  His face sours at that. “Shake on it?”

  A tendril slides out from his sleeve, bursting towards her position. She winces at it, shivering as she grasps the slimy substance and bobs it up and down. "Maybe Aisha was right. Knew you'd do the right fing."

  He rolls his eyes. "Despite my best efforts not to."

  Her ankles slowly lower to the floor. Give up a few feet early, and plop her onto a table. “Bitch!” She shouts.

  "A parting gift." Henri descends more gracefully: a shifting stairwell made of screaming faces. He adjusts his bowtie as he reaches the last step. “You should destroy that research, if you're not destroying the one who authored it. If Lamberg gets her hands on it, every one of you will get fucked in the ass."

  Finnerty smirks as he pushes open the doors. "Didn't know you cared!"

  "I don't." He says as the doors slam closed. "But my ass would be next."

  She lets him leave with a wary look, only moving from her spot when Red and Aisha approach. Their clothes are torn in places, skin cut and bruised in others. Aisha looks exhausted. Her sleeves have completely burned away.

  “Ashlin’.” Red looks stunned as she plods him. Her face still covered in blood. “Ya… ya came back?”

  She smiles. Stops. And punches him right in the cheek. So hard that he spills into a table in a shower of broken glass.

  “Fook off for disbelievin'.” She spits before turning to Aisha. "Now, I just strung up five or six Unbound to put your Turkish delight back on my fookin' table. So you'se better-"

  "Runes?" Aisha looks pale.

  Finnerty nods. "Runes."

  Aisha bites her lips. "Yes, I can do it. But..."

  She shrivels. Finnerty's getting closer. Even as the Poisoned One inches away. "It will take time."

  "How long?"

  "I... there are variables I don't know about that-"

  "How long?"

  Aisha lifts her hands. Her back is on the wall. "... three months?"

  She screams. Finnerty punches the concrete. Leaving behind a massive dent, crumbling stones. "WRONG ANSWER!"

  "Runes are unique! Tied to the caster! I can't just magic it! I need to study-"

  "So STUDY FASTER!"

  "I-I-I'll try!"

  "One month," Finnerty hisses, bringing her fist close. "You've got one month 'fore you start fookin' wishin' you went wiff 'at Shadow-Walker freak. You 'ear me!?"

  Aisha doesn't reply, too busy mumbling. Her head's down. Her eyes closed.

  "Do you hear me?"

  She meekly nods.

  "Good." Suddenly, Finnerty shifts. Her muscles relax. A smile grows. Harshly, she pats Aisha’s cheek. “Welcome to the party."

  Aisha musters herself as Finnerty starts to plod away. “I… I have conditions-”

  “You and your FOOKIN’ CONDITIONS!” Finnerty screams in her face.

  Aisha skirts back, but stands firm. “They’re non-negotiable.”

  With a wave, Finnerty beckons her.

  “... I’ll require a supply of live animals. You have to get them for me if you want those runes gone.” Aisha folds her arms. “Goats. Cows. Horses. I’m not picky. Just no pigs.”

  Finnerty squints. “‘Is for experiments, or…?”

  “I don’t drink human blood.” When she sees Finnerty’s confusion, Aisha adds. “It’s a religious thing.”

  Finnerty sighs. “Fine. I’ll ‘low it. Number two?”

  “You cannot ask me to use my powers to harm another person.”

  Finnerty's face immediately sharpens.

  "What you saw was a fraction of my power. A fraction I still struggle to control."

  "You know 'ow many problems I could solve wiff 'at fookin' fraction?

  "Look at them, Raven." Aisha points, and Finnerty's follow. It's the remains of a few Oathsworn. Half-charred piles of bones. "I will use it, if I must. To defend my home. To protect my friends. But I did not stop being the Court’s weapon so I could start being yours.”

  Finnerty lifts a brow at her. She's poised. Serious. Angry. Good. That sweet little vegan act was getting old.

  “Fook it.” She spins towards. “I don't care. Long as ‘ose runes collapse, you can join the fookin’ Taliban.”

  “Aisling!” Aisha calls out.

  Finnerty stops, scowls, and turns back.

  “It…” The Poisoned One clutches her hands. A shy smile. “... I know it was for an ulterior motive, but… thank you for helping me. I... look forward to returning the favour."

  Finnerty blinks, taken aback by the compliment. Then she shifts. “Give it three days, Lakhani.” She starts walking back to the tunnel, to Jayden.

  "We'll all feel fookin' stupid then."

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  He watches the ice slide from one side of the glass, to the other. Up, down, and up again. Slink along by a thin, oily tendril.

  Henri Ombras is in the Respite. A secluded bar, in the upper storey lounge. He grabs the glass from his tentacle, pours another round scotch, downs it, and hands it back. His Motorola hangs in his coat pocket. Heavy. Begging.

  Henri is not a hero. Aisha was not the first Kept he's hunted down. They appeal to his conscience, his sense of justice, without realising that five hundred years have whittled both down like an ocean whittles stone. For every person he’s saved from a nightmare, there’s a thousand more he’s ignored, and another two he's helped conjure. He just finds it easier to... appeal to them that way. In a house full of monsters, kindness pays.

  It’s not immorality, not really. Just acceptance. An understanding of the true face of this world. Say what one will, but Ratcatcher had that understanding. And until this night, Henri thought his Kept did, too.

  Raven is a threat. He realised that when she sold him her plan. He still took it, of course - it’s not really his problem, issit? - but the confidence, the calculations. She can't be allowed to expand.

  But then… when has she ever? It’s Aisling Finnerty. Ratcatcher’s lost pet. Half the reason she’s amassed this much intel is because everybody knows she never acts on it. She just builds and builds, like a boat that can’t turn off its rudder. Except now, she’s using it. Bartering it. Valuing it. And she has Red on her side. A half-trained Poisoned One.

  Something’s wrong. Wrong within the Unbound, a wrong the Court doesn't know. A wrong so large that they're working together, and even the sleepers have to react.

  Another shot. Another glass. The Motorola finally slips into his hand. Henri flips up the screen, unwinds the antennae, starts scrolling through his contacts. The Caller ID he ends on always makes him smile. It’s a portrait, a painted portrait, even more grandiose and dramatic than the man it portrays.

  It’s the best they can do for photos. After all…

  Henri clicks ‘call’.

  … they don’t show up in glass.

  “Captain. It’s me.” Henri rises to his feet. “Here’s a new joke for you. Two Unbound waltz into my bar.”

  He looks out a window, to the city that towers above. The swirling clouds, soon to form rain.

  “Punchline?” He flashes that Cheshire Cat smile. “You’ll never guess which.”

  thinking... but I promise, Harriet and Aisling are just roommates. At least in their minds :3

  My question for the class... what do you guys think of Aisha? She's much kinder compared to the other Veneficii we have met, but she's still keeping a lot of secrets close to her chest. What could be in store...?

  Chapter 15: Across Waters. See you then!