District: Trog

Year: Undetermined

World: An Alternate Earth

Twin moons shadowed the giant orange sun through the pale slate-blue sky at different phases. One narrow like the slit of a cat’s eye, while the other seemed to smile at some unknown secret or joke. If there was a joke to be shared, it was that Carina was driving in midday traffic—rather than hiding in a shack outside of Trog’s borders.

"Oh! He's kicking!" Jade cried as she grabbed Carina's hand, completely ignoring its previous position on the steering wheel, and placed it over her swollen pregnant stomach.

"Jade!" Carina snapped as she snatched her hand away and corrected their precarious course. She grimaced and tried to ignore the unsettled tumult of her stomach, along with the blaring horn of the car they had almost sideswiped. "Seriously, are you trying to get us all killed?"

The brightness in Jade's green eyes dimmed as she blinked and turned to look out the window at the distant skyscrapers of Verdine. She clasped her hands protectively over her stomach as her lips trembled in the reflection of the dirty glass.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Carina apologized softly. "That scared me—You know how much I hate driving."

"No—It's my fault," Jade replied. "Getting excited and doing something without thinking—typical me."

Carina sighed, flexed her right hand against the steering wheel, and then offered it to her friend. "Here—is he still kicking?"

Jade snorted out a laugh as she took Carina's hand and guided it to her stomach. "There, do you feel—"

"I feel it," Carina confirmed as her hand absorbed the odd sensation of the baby kicking Jade's stomach wall. "That's so fucking weird." She pulled her hand away and focused on the traffic and GPS in the car panel.

"It's perfectly normal," Jade retorted with a satisfied smile. She resumed humming along to the car radio song as the contamination meter on the dash flickered from pink to red for a moment and then dropped back down to an off white.

Carina glanced at it and frowned. ‘When was the last time she had this hunk of metal recalibrated?’ Still, as close as Trog was to Verdine, it should be relatively safe. Most of the other vehicle occupants that speed past them weren’t wearing their protection face masks in any case.

Jade’s humming faded to a halt as she groaned and rubbed her temples.

"Still getting the headaches?" Carina asked sympathetically.

"I thought the morning sickness would be the worst of it," Jade muttered. "I knew the first trimester was just too easy."

"We'll be at the south clinic in a couple of minutes. I'm sure your doctor will have something to help." The sound of a smartphone buzzing distracted Carina as she glanced down at Jade's purse. "Who is that?"

Jade opened the purse, glanced at the device’s screen, and sighed. "It's Rick."

"I thought you were done talking to him," Carina replied tensely.

"I—" Jade silenced the phone and put it back in her purse "—I am."

"Good," Carina muttered.

"Carina."

"I'm sorry, but if he can't get behind your decision to keep this baby—" Carina shook her head as her grip on the wheel tightened. "You need a real partner, not some selfish prick who wants to tear you down over a decision that was yours to make."

"That's not fair, Carina. I did make this decision without him. He has a right to be unhappy."

"You're defending him?"

"No—I understand why he’s upset. Becoming a surrogate mother was one thing—we needed the cash. But deciding to keep the baby permanently—a baby that's not Rick's."

Carina exhaled sharply and smacked the horn as a black sedan with a Verdine license plate cut in front of them. ‘Asshole, there’s plenty of space ahead of me.’

"It wasn't an easy decision to make," Jade murmured as she stroked her belly.

Carina snorted. "Which decision? The one to return the $60,000 to the biological parents—"

"I'm his biological mother!" Jade snapped.

"Or the one where Rick made you choose between the baby and his selfish ***."

"I'm not getting into this with you," Jade protested wearily, then groaned as she pressed her fingertips against her temple again.

"Do you want the ice pack?" Carina asked softly, her anger evaporating.

"Yeah—where?"

"Lunch box under your seat."

"Carina—how am I supposed to reach that?" Jade grumbled as she pointed at her stomach.

"Okay, okay, red light up ahead," Carina replied with a sheepish grin as she eased off the gas and shifted to the brakes.

The traffic pulled to a stop around them, and Carina shifted the vehicle into park. She unclipped her seatbelt and reached over the console, mindful of Jade's pregnant belly as her fingers brushed over the strap of the lunch box.

"Got it!" Carina pulled the box free just as Jade's hand clamped painfully around her shoulder.

Glass shattered above her as Jade screamed.

Carina scrambled up, her hand brushing against the broken shards as Jade's door opened. She stared over the petrified pregnant woman at the two men, each dressed in dark clothes with black baseball caps and skull bandannas wrapped around the lower half of their faces. The larger of the two held a strange black hammer-like tool in his gloved hand that had been used to break the car's window.

Fear rippled through Carina as the men reached into the car, shoved her back, and unbuckled Jade's seatbelt.

"No—Carina!" Jade wailed as the men yanked her from the seat.

The driver's side window shattered. Glass bit into Carina's cheek and neck. She flinched—then sprang into action as she flipped open the console and grabbed her unregistered handgun.

The car door opened behind her. Then a heavy chest pinned Carina down as a firm grip trapped her hand and the gun inside the console.

"Sorry, sweetheart," the man's voice growled against her ear as a needle pricked into the side of her neck. "Night, night."

❆❆❆❆❆

Lights and sounds faded in and out of focus as the white hospital walls came slowly into focus. The car was gone. The gun was gone. Jade was gone.

Carina struggled to keep her eyes open beneath the harsh lights that hung above her.

'****, where am I?'

Her body felt numb, and she couldn't move. Couldn't feel anything other than the dull methodical beat of her heart.

"We got lucky," a deep man's voice grated through the muffled fog around her. "She was traveling with a runaway surrogate my team hunted down this morning."

"Dr. Bell will be happy. His VIP clients have been quite impatient about finding a heart transplant. O negative organ donors are difficult to obtain the usual way."

"Well, fortunately, they subdued her without too much difficulty. She’s a bit malnourished and appears to have been living outside of the safe zone, but the heart is stable and in good condition. Most of her tests have come back negative for the viper's plague. Radiation levels are also within an acceptable range."

"Excellent! I will let Dr. Bell know. Have the nurses run the necessary screening tests and set up the operating room for this afternoon. Oh! And have your man eliminate the surrogate's boyfriend personally when he comes to collect his reward. No loose ends."

"Of course. My team knows the drill. Give Dr. Bell my regards."

A dark shape passed between Carina and the ceiling lights. She could not make out the man's face, just his dark profile, the edges of his neatly cut hair, and the rims of his glasses.

"Looks like she's waking up."

"That sometimes happens with the new anesthetic. Not to worry, she can't move or feel any pain. The heart won't be affected."

"You mean she'll be awake during the surgery?"

"Conscious perhaps, not that it matters—it's not like she's going to sue us later," the man replied cynically.

"We're not taking any risks with this heart—"

"Alright, alright, I got it. I'll give her another dose."

Another shadow passed to her right in the corner of her vision. The sound of metal clicking against a surface filtered through Carina's ears. A moment passed, and then she heard the man grunt.

"There. All done."

"Right, well, let me call Dr. Bell so he can clear his schedule. Get the donor prepped. As soon as we have the all-clear on those tests, Dr. Bell will be on his way."

"This many fresh O negative organs will be quite the harvest. The bidding should do well tonight."

The footsteps and voices faded away, and Carina was helpless to protest or stop them.

They were going to cut her open and sell her organs.

Carina was more than familiar with the black market on organ harvesting. The number of people who disappeared every day among the lower class had been enough to convince Carina to go off-grid when she discovered her blood type was in high demand among Verdine’s elites.

The only friend from her old life that she had stayed in touch with was Jade.

'Shit, where was Jade?'

A tear ran down Carina's cheek as the lights above blurred and faded out of focus. The numb darkness that settled in brought her no comfort, only cold certainty—that she would not wake up again.

Stitch wings into my soul

I want to remember how it feels to be whole.

Make my heart diamond hard

So I'll forget that it's broken and scarred.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

Kingdom: Lafeara

District: Slums

World: Not Earth

Alex had been the Master of the Fox Den for nearly two decades. While he would have preferred a certain amount of anonymity, the skills that he and his nest of thugs, mercenaries, and assassins offered had earned them a formidable reputation.

The dilapidated bar in the slums of Lafeara's capital city seemed like the last place any lord and lady of nobility would choose to frequent. However, the right people in the right circles knew they could slip around to the back of the modest establishment and access its exclusive services.

Murder, kidnapping, blackmail, arson, bribery, and extortion—it made no difference to Alex as long as a suitable fee was paid upfront. His excellent record of customer satisfaction ensured that the threshold of his secret door never went vacant for long, while the nobles who used his services remained cautiously discreet.

Which was why the customer who stood before him, a young girl of possibly fourteen or eighteen—it was difficult to tell behind the bunny mask all his customers were required to wear before entering—posed such an unusual question.

'How did someone like her find their way down here?' Alex wondered.

He studied this potential customer curiously as she stepped towards the offered seat in front of the makeshift table, comprised of two beer kegs and a repurposed oak door.

She wore a heavy black cloak of luxurious velvet fabric that hid all but her mask and the ash-brown hair that peeped out around her neck. There was no visible jewelry by which to estimate her wealth or identity—a common mistake among the nobility who were used to flaunting their worth.

The masked girl settled into the wooden chair with its wobbly third leg and folded her gloved hands gracefully in her lap. The stone walls around them did little to muffle the footsteps of the bar directly overhead. The musk of aged alcohol stacked in kegs behind Alex filled the cellar room but did not entirely quench the faint aroma of vanilla and jasmine that belonged to the young girl.

"Good evening," Alex said politely from behind his fox mask.

"Are you the owner of this establishment?" she asked.

Although her voice trembled with a reasonable amount of fear, Alex thought she seemed oddly composed for one of her age and gender.

"I am," he replied. "And whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

"You may call me Lady Aconitum," she answered as she rose from her seat to curtsy.

'Cute, but certainly not her real name.'

"Excuse me," she murmured as she touched the rabbit mask that muffled her voice. "Why do I have to wear this?"

"We find it offers a level of security and anonymity for our customers."

"I see, but then, how do you know who you're dealing with?"

His lips twitched with amusement as he plucked a ripe apple from the table and pulled a knife from his boot.

'Was she asking purely out of curiosity, or is she afraid that I'll uncover her identity?'

"Most of the time, it doesn't matter," Alex replied with a casual shrug. "You are the rabbit, and we are the foxes. You pay us to eliminate whatever pesky hound is on your trail, and we part ways none the wiser."

"I see, thank you for the explanation."

Her manners and etiquette were no less than what he would expect a young lady of high nobility to possess. And yet, her calmness and maturity had undeniably piqued his curiosity. Alex maintained a neutral tone as he continued to carve the apple in his hand and asked, "How can I help you, Lady Aconitum?"

"I wish to retain the services of one of your assassins. I believe he goes by Ghost?"

Alex's grip on the carving knife tensed. Although Lady Aconitum had posed it as a question, she sounded quite confident.

'Hell's Teeth. How does she even know about Ghost?'

This curious problem had become more complicated and dangerous. If the customer had been a man, they would be on the floor already with Alex's blade pressed into their flesh until the source that had leaked this information bled from their tongue.

But Alex didn't touch children.

"Ghost is—a difficult agent to acquire," he explained as he sliced the apple into eight equal parts.

That was a lie. Ghost didn't work for him. They were merely acquaintances who shared a common enemy and goal, but she didn't need to know that. She already knew too much.

"If you're worried about payment," the girl replied as she watched him whittle away the apple's core and seeds. "I've brought a check with me for the amount I'm willing to pay."

Alex glanced over as she unlocked the clasp of her small purse and pulled out a folded check. He recognized the embossed golden trimming as those which adorned checks from the Imperial Bank. The sort of bank that only the upper crest of nobility with vast amounts of wealth could access.

'So she was from that sort of family.'

Lady Aconitum placed the folded bank check on the desk and sat back. "I believe this amount to be more than generous."

Alex snorted, amused with her business-like tone, and whipped his fingers against his jacket. Then he picked up the check, unfolded it, and blinked down at the number written in the payment box.

"30,000 crescents?" He read aloud in disbelief.

'How the hell did she have access to this kind of money?'

"Did you steal this check from your parents or—"

His words trailed off as he read the name printed clearly at the top.

'Payment from Lady Aconitum.'

Alex's gaze drifted from the banknote to the girl back to the amount. Then he turned slowly and held the check up to the light.

"I assure you it's not a forgery," she said with a hint of amusement.

'What in Hell's Teeth is this?'

Not only was she the youngest customer to ever walk through his doors, but she also knew information about Ghost that was limited only to himself and two other trusted associates. And now she appeared to be as rich as a Duchess.

With a shake of his head, Alex put down the check and leaned forward in his seat. "And for what purpose exactly do you need such a dangerous assassin?"

"I simply wish to retain his services in the event I require certain people disposed of," she explained vaguely.

"This is quite serious, you know," Alex said cautiously. "Killing someone isn't something you can just wash your hands of and walk away from, even if you use an assassin."

Okay, maybe he was turning senile. This job would likely be an easy 30,000 crescents for Ghost, and Alex would get a cut as well, but everything about this customer set off a warning in the back of his mind.

She tilted her head. The lantern's light glinted against a pair of blue eyes hidden behind her mask as she regarded him for a moment in still silence.

"I am sure you understand," she said. "That sometimes, survival requires that one to be willing to get blood on their hands."

"Well put," Alex replied, still unable to read her.

She did not exhibit the usual kind of behavior his other privileged customers fell prey to. They were either brimming in anger, scared out of their mind or just plain greedy. They were certainly never polite, composed, and calm.

"Could you provide me with a little more detail?" Alex asked. "Such as who you wish Ghost to kill?"

For the first time, her gaze seemed to falter as she smoothed out the fabric of her hooded cloak. "I am not altogether certain at present," she admitted. "But they both reside within the Royal Palace."

Alex blinked, and the polite smile beneath his mask faded.

"You're referring to a member of the royal family?" he asked quickly to confirm.

"Yes," Lady Aconitum answered. "Or to be more precise, someone who may one day be King."

Maura returned the rabbit mask to the doorman outside and nodded a silent farewell. She could feel the thug’s eyes glued to her back as she turned and headed, not to the bar's front, but down a side alley street. Her fingers twisted up in the coarse material of her cloak as Maura struggled to repress her frustration. Despite the risks she had taken in meeting with the Master of the Fox Den, she had left far from satisfied. In fact, the Fox Master had been stubbornly determined to dissuade her from seeking out Ghost.

And so, Maura had been forced to play the one card left in her hand. Another risk, but time was not on her side. At least, if that stubborn old fox decided to open and read her letter, he wouldn't be able to understand its context. Which would force him to deliver her message to Ghost himself—or so she hoped.

The late morning sun provided enough light to guide her through the narrow and cluttered alleyway, towards Canary Lane, where the hansom cab she had rented waited for her.

The sound of footsteps in the alley behind her quickened her pace. Maura cast a glance over her shoulder just in time to catch the two shadows that dipped into a doorway.

'So the Fox Master means to follow me?'

She lifted her skirts and chose a different route as she bolted through the back door of a shoemaker's shop.

"Aye!" A startled apprentice looked up from his workbench as Maura breezed past him towards the front of the shop. "What are you—"

Maura slipped past the shoemaker, too busy bartering with his customer to notice her before she zipped through the front door back into the swarming streets. The sounds of protest in the shop behind her confirmed Maura's shadows had not been shaken that easily.

She turned down another side street, dodging a carriage and two drunken cretins, one of whom caught hold of her arm.

"Where you going, girlie?"

Maura shook him loose as she spun around. This time she caught sight of one of her pursuers. A burly looking man with a cap pulled low over narrowed eyes, a slanted nose, and a toothy grin.

'Damn it!' Maura sprinted down the alley. Her boots splattered through the grimy puddles as she extended her left arm behind her and focused on the cold magic within her chest. Her breath glowed white in the air as the magic spread down her arm and tingled at the tips of her fingers.

A thud and a bang echoed in the alley behind her, followed by a muffled curse. Maura paused briefly to smirk at the thug who had slipped upon the fresh patch of ice left in her wake. Then, remembering his companion, she raced through the dark alleyway towards her original destination.

"Here now, watch out!" A middle-aged woman snapped as Maura barreled out into the main street and bumped into her shoulder.

"Sorry," Maura gasped as she steadied the basket of washing clothes in the woman's arms. "Sorry about that!"

"You'll knock someone over running about like a crazy lunatic." The woman's gaze narrowed upon the simple black mask which covered the upper half of Maura's face. "What are you—"

"Excuse me," Maura apologized. Behind the woman, the figure of the thug Maura had not shaken lingered in the shadows. She cautiously backed away, glanced around the street then, spotting her carriage, ran towards it.

"East Central Station, please!" she called to the driver after she climbed aboard.

The hansom driver whistled sharply in reply. His whip cracked as the one-horse-cab cantered briskly out into the street and headed towards the lower east market.

Maura checked the alley once more as they pulled away, but the shadow of her pursuer was gone—for now, at least.

She paid the driver at the East Central Station, where she switched to another carriage for her return trip home. Once seated within its musty compartment, Maura pulled her mask free and tucked it inside her cloak. The busy capital streets outside the glass window soon faded behind her as the carriage lumbered along the bumpy roads of the countryside.

Maura's ghost-like reflection stared back at her from the dirty glass windows covered in the shadows of passing oak trees. She pulled back her hood and regarded a young lass of sixteen years with mocking pity. Brown spots decorated her skin like paint splatter. The unsightly blemishes were the reason Maura preferred to keep her face covered, even when she didn't need a mask.

'At least dalmatians look cute covered in spots.'

There was nothing of her true identity in this homely child's reflection. No one would ever suspect that within the frail sixteen-year-old Maura existed the soul of a now thirty-year-old woman named Carina, who had died in another world.

Nine years ago, when Carina had been murdered at Twenty-one years old, she had woken up inside the body of a malnourished seven-year-old girl. Oddly enough, it wasn't just Maura's childhood memories that Carina was introduced to—but memories of Maura's future as well.

The old Maura had lived a bitter and lonely life as the bastard daughter of an all but impoverished noble family. Neglected, abused, and pushed about until she was sent to the palace to work as a cleaning maid. Unfortunately, Maura received little better treatment there and ultimately died at the age of seventeen by public execution.

Carina absorbed the memories of Maura's life and death as she grew and adjusted to this new world and the dysfunctional Turnsbell family she now found herself tied to.

If Carina's old life had taught her anything, it was that wealth and power were needed to survive. In an overpopulated world where people were hunted to keep the wealthy alive—Carina had met her end beneath a sharp blade when her still-beating heart had been harvested from her chest.

No, surviving Maura's previous fate would not be enough. Carina wanted to ensure that she would never know that kind of helpless cruelty again. But in this other world governed by Patriarchy, the only way a woman could attain power was by birth or through wealth and connections.

Carina's first step to financial stability had been carefully pried from the hands of Maura's great-aunt, Lady Edith. The aging heiress, who died two years after Carina took over Maura's identity, had become quite fond of the new Maura's spirit and sharp wit.

The Turnbell family had been stunned when they discovered that dear Aunt Edith had included the "half-blood"—another word for bastard—in her will. The unexpected blow was made all the more unbearable when they realized that Maura had been granted a significantly larger portion of the old woman's inheritance.

Also, at Carina's suggestion, Lady Edith had retained a lawyer to ensure that Maura's inheritance remained hers and hers alone so that Lord Josiah Turnbell wouldn't attempt to swindle or outright steal it from her.

Carina had taken that inheritance of 8,000 crescents—which equated to $80,000 in Carina's world—and invested it into various businesses that she knew would become successful in the future. She also maintained the services of Mr. Bryson, the lawyer Aunt Edith had provided her, and with his advisement, secured her investments and funds under the alias of a Mr. Frost.

Thus, over the past six years, Carina secretly amassed a sizeable income that had earned Mr. Frost the reputation of a reclusive but shrewd investor.

The carriage driver knocked on the window between them to signal they had reached her destination. Carina quickly pulled the cloak's hood over her face and gathered her thoughts.

As requested, the driver dropped her off outside the gates of Turnbell Manor. Carina paid the man and then stepped back as the carriage turned about briskly to return to the capital. Only when the road was empty did she unclasp and remove her cloak with a sigh of relief.

The sound of approaching hoofs pulled Carina's attention to the young lad riding towards her on a bay mare from the other side of the iron gates. His sunkissed brown hair and tanned skin glistened from a day of hard labor. The careless ease with which he controlled the mare beneath him without bridle or saddle made him seem more like a wild native than a boy born as a slave.

"Miss!" Gus shouted. "You're back!"

"Is everything alright?" Carina asked. She hurriedly wrapped the cloak and mask into a bundle as she slipped between the gates.

"Young Master Lincoln came home while you were away," Gus warned with a hint of panic. His dark ebony eyes pooled with worry and a spark of anger.

"What? But he was supposed to remain at school for another week?"

"I fear he slipped out again," Gus replied as he held out a hand to her. Carina gripped his strong arm and jumped up towards the mare's back. Her legs fell short, but Gus quickly pulled her up behind him.

"Let's hurry back before he creates trouble for Ivy.”

Not that Gus needed a reminder of Maura's older half-brother's fondness for creating trouble. The stable boy kicked his heels into the mare's side, and they galloped up the lane towards the underwhelming and gloomy manor house.

Carina gripped his waist without restraint. Though it was unseemly for a young lady of her position to cling to a mere servant, Carina's concern for Ivy would always triumph over this world's archaic rules of etiquette.

As part of her inheritance, Lady Edith had left Maura a young slave girl named Ivy. Now twenty years old, Ivy had adjusted to her young Mistress's strange requests, secretive nature, and often unusual behavior. Despite the four year age gap between them, Ivy had been Carina's closest companion and secret confidant in the Turnbell Manor.

Over the years, the harsh realities that awaited Ivy and Carina had forced them to rely upon each other, forming a friendship that surpassed the constraints of a slave and her half-blood Mistress.

It had been Ivy who introduced Gus to Carina when she required a trustworthy messenger to send letters to her lawyer in the capital. Gus, who secretly had a crush on Ivy, had been reluctantly drawn into their secret schemes. Although, more for Ivy's sake than the ruble that Carina paid him for every letter delivered.

He was a strong lad with a simple mind and a pure, courageous heart that suited Ivy's quiet yet sweet nature perfectly. But they were both slaves. They could no more wish to be married than they could hope for freedom.

Gus pulled the mare up at the front steps of the manor and helped Carina to dismount.

"Hurry back to the stables and remember to hide my cloak back in the usual spot," Carina said as she pressed her bundle into his hand.

He nodded tensely, his eyes pinned to the building behind her. As a stable boy, he had never been permitted even one step inside the manor.

"Don't worry. I'll protect her," Carina promised. "Now go—"

Her command was cut short by the sound of a whip cracking through the air.

Carina spun on her heels in an instant. She left the pale Gus and his panicked mare in the dust as she dashed through the front door and down the hall, while Ivy's cries of pain hounded her every step.