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Chapter 1 - Secrets
The bar was dimly lit. The few oil lamps that hung from the low ceiling gave the drinkers a sense of comfort and mystery. It was a fairly good sized room fitting more then a dozen tables with stools and chairs, which barely kept their occupants off the grimy floor littered with cigarette butts, spilled alcohol, and a thin layer of dust disturbed in many places by drunken footfall. The air held the stench of drugs, urine, and women’s perfume. Even this late at night, there were still men looking for a good time. Only a few of the hookers worked the graveyard shift, as they were more vulnerable at night. But that’s how some liked it. A few of the young girls, who either left home or had met the wrong man at the wrong time, sat around the room on the laps of their clients, looking around the room, utterly bored as the men they sat upon groped them obscenely. At least the men seemed to enjoy themselves.
Not all the men who passed through the front door were swine, though some preferred the idle chitchat of the barkeep at the bar, which ran along the back wall of the room, curving around the corner to stop at a different door leading to a backroom, which was the office of the bar’s owner. He was a big burly man with greasy hair and a hooked nose. His facial features gave him the appearance of a rat. When he walked, it wasn’t a walk but more of a strut, like that of a male peacock. He made his walk-about every hour or so, collecting the money from the barkeeps and waitresses before disappearing into that backroom to count it all and place it in a locked chest under his desk. He also came to settle any fights the barkeeps couldn’t control, and answer to the more rowdy clients who demanded to see the owner.
His newest barkeep never seemed to have any trouble with any of the rowdy clients, as he never seemed to speak, or pick his head up far enough for the light to read his features. He always wore a stained cap down low and long, heavy clothing even in the current summer swelter. He served hunched over, as if he always had a bad stomachache, but he was good at his work. He was quick with money and tearing the tops off of bottles of beer as well as stacking glasses for a dishwasher to clean quickly. He was a smooth talker with softness in his voice. What the owner didn’t know was that his newest employee was a woman.
The new barkeep was collecting the empty mugs that were just returned on the black serving tray of a waitress when a man, oddly dressed, came stalking in. He was a dark figure against the hazy air of the bar. Nothing but a shadow, and a rapidly moving shadow at that. He scanned the room slowly, his eyes squinting through the green fumes of Krawch, (a very popular drug that is smoked,) seeming to take in all the occupants with one pass. On his second pass, his eyes caught sight of the barkeep with the cap, and he smiled as he moved easily between the empty stools and stools with residents upon them, intent on his destination. He sat down in front of her and gave a knowing grin.
“What can I get you?” she asked in her disguised voice.
For years she had kept up this appearance of a man, and no one had even suspected her of being gay, let alone a woman. She was utterly shocked when this man came over, smiled at her, and had this look in his eye that hinted that he could see all. Even that which wasn’t obvious at the present time. He sat down on a barstool, ignoring the large, drunkenly singing man next to him who swayed with a half-full mug in his hand, liquid sloshing over the edge every time he drew close to the bar. He leaned by the bar as he spoke.
“C’mon love,” he said over the singing, the tune that was being sung was completely out of key that it hurt. “Stop playing around.”
She gaped at him, caught unaware at the topic of conversation this man presented. Needless to say, she got nervous.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, turning back to stacking glasses and mugs on the counter.
“Do you take me for a fool? It’s written all over you’re face. Your eyes, your lips, hell, you don’t even have a beard!” he said, leaning in closer, not seeming to miss a beat.
She shook her head, trying not to speak more than necessary. What was she supposed to answer, anyway? It’s not like she spent her spare time wondering what she would say to someone if they had some clue. She had thought up ways of avoiding the questions or stares she might receive, but never in her wildest nightmares had she ever thought someone would be this bold about it. This had never happened before, nor had she thought it ever would. She guessed that this moment was inevitable. Who would have guessed it would come from some strange man in a grungy bar, the time nearing midnight?
“You’d have some stubble then. A midnight shadow, if you will,” he replied to her shifting eyes. He reached his hand over, and put it on her cheek.
She took a deep breath, but his dark eyes kept her from moving away. He wasn’t bad looking, with his brown, almost black hair tied back with a strip of cloth. He was pale, but not deathly. He wore clothes of black in a style unknown to her. Maybe Finelian. She was sure though, he certainly wasn’t from around here. He lightly rubbed her cheek and then her chin, and then gave a short laugh when there was no friction between her face and his fingers; just smooth skin. He pulled his hand away. “Just as I thought. No stubble.”
She turned various shades of red, and turned away from him, placing her attention on the drunken man next to him, who had spilled the remaining contents of his drink on the counter. She dabbed away at the spill with a dish rag. All the while, he sang, completely oblivious to all that was happening around him, focusing solely on the mangled tune his mouth was emitting.
Her shift ended a few hours past midnight. At the end of her shift, she was told by the owner to lock up and slip the key into a knack in the wood of the doorframe. He always left an hour or so before it was closing time, leaving her to kick out the boozehounds and hookers who loitered in the corners of the darkening room, trying to avoid leaving the safety the bar had to offer as she extinguished the lamps. Looking around cautiously in the dark of night, she slipped it in. She turned to leave when she walked into the man with the dark eyes and foreign clothing. He was standing behind her, hands behind his back, rocking on the balls of his feet. She saw him leave the bar not twenty minutes after the episode in the bar, and hadn’t seen him enter, and she definitely didn’t see him loitering around the front door when she left. He was a sneaky one.
“Good evening,” he said with a bow. “I was wondering if I could get your name? A gal who impresses me doesn’t get away without me knowing a name.”
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said angrily, and pushed past him.
“Awfully skinny for a man,” he said quickly to her retreating back. “And I don’t suppose those lumps under your shirt are hidden weapons.” She glanced down at her chest. Her breasts were not visible. She took the time each morning before work to carefully bind herself in bandages and strong tape to keep them concealed. She never left the house without making sure her costume was perfect, so tonight would not be the exception. He was bluffing, she was sure he was.
“I must’ve spoken the truth, or else you would have kept walking.” She heard a slight tone of victory in his voice. If he thought he won, he was wrong. She shook her head but he kept persisting.
“Look, what do you want?” she asked impatiently, not bothering to disguise her voice as she turned to face him. “If you want a good time, go find-”
“I want to know why you’re concealing yourself as a man,” he said with a smile. “Mind if I join you at your place tonight? I’m new in town and I have nowhere else to go to for the night. Besides, I think you and me have the potential to be great friends.” He threw an arm around her shoulders.
“You should have thought of that before you came here then,” she spat, pulling away from him. She spun on her heel and began her long walk home. He jogged over to her and walked alongside the disgruntled woman. They walked in silence until he began badgering her for her name. That was all she needed. A man, no, a stupid traveler wanting to get to know her when he’d be out of her life long before he could make any mark in it
“Alright, fine!” she shouted after minutes of hounding. “It’s…Ariel, now leave me alone!”
He stopped walking for a second. His heart did a flutter in his chest. He found her at last! He fell into step behind her with a huge smug smile on his face, which she did not see. If she did see it though, she wouldn’t have understood the meaning. Ariel was too busy cursing herself for revealing her name and for not leaving him without a place to sleep for the night. Except for the dank alleyways where the other homeless men could rape him, and steal whatever he had on him before he could even blink; she had no trouble leaving him to fend for himself. She shook herself. Such morbid, disgusting thoughts she had! What had gotten into her? He started whistling as they walked. The traveler had gotten to her, that’s what.
Her house was one of many houses in a small rundown neighborhood of poorly constructed houses with rundown roofs and broken gardens. The road and sidewalks were cracked and broken quite heavily that it was near impossible not to tread on fragments of rock, which poked through the soles of shoes and boots, no matter how thick the leather, or material was. Many of the houses were abandoned, and went unnoticed by the current Leader of the city and the police. The scum of the city; drug dealers, pimps, and other kingpins of the underworld resided where the windows were small, and houses lacked address tags. It would make even a long term resident confused as to who lived where and whom and why to avoid them.
They walked down the street, Ariel ignoring the sounds of pleasure coming from a set of houses to her right while there was banging and angry yelling coming from another just down the street. The path Ariel turned down led to a house in the same condition as the others, only this house had a roof without sections missing and windows, while the surrounding houses had to have buckets stuck in strategic locations inside where the rain came through, and the windows were shattered all over the dead flowerbeds. The door that Ariel stopped at seemed to be in better condition then the house itself. It was of a fine sturdy wood, but the elegance of it was seemingly missed, because of a vertical row of locks maimed the door crudely.
One by one, Ariel unlocked the numerous locks with keys she pulled out of her pocket, kept together by a small metal loop until the final one opened. She looked around before opening the door to let herself in. The traveler was about to follow when the door was slammed shut in his face, one of the locks clicking into place.
“Hey!” he yelled while pounding on the door with a fist.
She sighed. Did she ever agree to let him stay the night at all? It could be dangerous to let him inside. But then again, those bums in the alleyway were probably more dangerous. She opened the door for him.
“One night,” she said angrily, and retreated into the dark of the house where she opened a curtain to let the moon light in before collapsing into an old shaggy couch, kicking off her dirty boots. When he walked in, he had to squint through the dark to catch a glimpse of light trying to force its way into the room via windows covered with thick, dark curtains. The only light visible were faint lines around the edge of the material, and the light flooding in through the window whose curtains were roughly pushed aside. He closed the door, darkening the room even more.
“Should I lock the door?” he asked.
She nodded, and took off the hat she wore throughout the day, and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Her hair caught his eye and he stopped fastening the locks to stare at her. The moonlight illuminated her, making it seem as if she had fallen out of heaven. The moon made her curly blonde hair shine in a delicate shade of silver. Her long eyelashes seemed to curl and reveal her large, sapphire eyes. Her shirt had become almost transparent and he could see, wrapped around her torso, cloth and tape. When he finished the last two locks he turned around to see the couch was empty and Ariel was leaning over a table further into the house, reaching for an oil lamp. Her shirt began to rise as she stretched, and he could see the side of her waist and the edges of the grey cloth, which he saw, was a type of bandage. Her pants tightened, and he could see the curve of her thigh and bottom. He swallowed hard, and wiped the sweat from his brow. When the light flickered on, she shook the match until it went out, and turned to look at him.
“You can sleep on the couch,” she said, walking down a small hallway to her right. With the light on he could see the whole room. They were standing in a room designed for multi tasking, as a small kitchen was sitting almost directly in the same room as the couch. The couch was pushed against the wall to his right. There was a small, coffee table in front of the couch, which held an empty glass, a few papers, and a pocketknife. The small kitchen was in the far corner and to his left was a small hallway with two closed doors, which Ariel had disappeared down. When she returned she held a blanket and a pillow in her arms.
“I never did get your name,” she said, dropping the linens on the couch.
“It’s Ryan,” he said off-handedly, and his face instantly showed a sign of panic before it left as quickly as it came, fearing she’d know him. She seemed to miss it as she was fiddling with a loose thread handing off the bottom of her blouse. After pulling it off, she looked up at him.
“Well, are you going to come in, or loiter at the door all night? I run my house just as I run the bar during my shift; buy something, or get out.” She laughed at the surprised look on his face.
“Bathroom’s down the hall to the left. My room is on the right. Come in while I’m sleeping, and I swear I will kill you,” she threatened, losing her moment of playfulness, her face growing serious. He just gave her a blank stare. “Adia, why did I agree to this?” she sighed, her shoulders dropping. She wandered over to kitchen and squatted down near a cupboard door under the counter, opening it and pulling out an already half gone bottle of wine. She stood up with her back to Ryan as she opened the bottle and took a long sip.
“You drink?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Why shouldn’t I,” she responded, and then took another sip.
“Well, you’re the first bar owner-“
“Employee,” she corrected after swallowing.
“Bar employee,” he corrected, “who drinks, seeing what it does to her customers.”
“Well, my life is a mess, so the more time I could get away from it the better.” She glanced lovingly at the bottle before snapping at him, “and it’s none-of your damn business what I do. It’s my life, and my liver.”
She bade him goodnight, and walked into her room carrying the bottle of wine by the throat. The red liquid swirled around in the bottle like the angry waves of the Finelian Ocean. As soon as her door was closed and locked, he sat himself down on the couch with a sigh. He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. He hated this job. Michael sure did know how to pick his women. She was beautiful. The only thing that bothered him was the locks. They were everywhere, barring entrance to the house, and the exits as well. She was a smart one, hiding as a man in a rundown neighborhood where no one bothered searching for anyone due to the fear of the drug lords. Why she chose to work in a stuffy bar full of drunken men looking for a hooker or two was a mystery to him. Maybe it was because of the low lighting and the kind of customers they saw were the ones who forgot who they were after a few drinks, or a few puffs of whatever illegal substance they were smoking. He smiled again. She wasn’t a dumb one. Unlike the other women Michael had him track down; this one was the first sure thing, the first strong lead and the first woman who happened to be the true Ariel. Or so it seemed for the time being. She hadn’t shown as much as a spark to confirm his suspicions. Literally.
He got up again with a groan, stretching his tired body, which screamed out against his actions in agony from the hard day of crawling around in the scorching summer sun, trying to find a lead. It didn’t help that he got into that fight at a few bars previous to the one Ariel worked in, nearly getting his ass kicked. He stalked over to the side of the room near the makeshift kitchen table, removing the strip of cloth holding his hair out of his face and blew out the lamp. He returned to the couch where he lay down and arranged the pillow behind his head and discarded the blanket altogether. He fell asleep after a while to the sounds coming from Ariel’s locked room, finding them quite odd to say the least.
Ariel was feeling rather light-headed as she sat in her closet with the door wide open, wrapped up in a blanket, the now empty wine bottle rolling on the floor when the wind blew along with all the others. Her room was cold, for the walls weren’t constructed well. They had holes in the cement and it was a rather windy night, so the wind blew in strong gusts every few minutes. Even on these hot summer nights, the wind was icy cold like dozens of chilled cutlery teeth stabbing into her. She got to her feet, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders, and blindly walked through the dark room. On a night when she hadn’t drunk so much wine, she’d be able to navigate through without a problem, but tonight, she managed to trip over a dirty shirt she discarded to the floor the day previous. Soon though, she managed to reach her destination. Ariel stood hovering over her trunk- the only remnants of home- and fell to her knees. She slowly opened the lid and brought out another bottle of wine because she could feel memories begin to stir back into her mind, seeing a small cottage with wild vines on its face that caressed delicate buds that bloomed every spring in white and blue. She shook herself, and brought out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, which lay hidden under a kerchief. She dropped the two items onto the floor, and closed the lid. She sat with her back against the trunk, opening the pack of cigarettes and placing a cigarette to her lips, she lit it. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, smoke curling around the air in front of her like the smoke did at the cottage house, once expelled from the vine-tangled chimney. She sighed with frustration at that memory. She only ever smoked once in a blue moon, hearing it can damage her health if she smoked them in mass quantities. She laughed.
She managed to forget there was a stranger in her house for the night until the wine ran out, and she finished off two or three cigarettes. It wasn’t long before dawn when she realized the wind had ceased its fierce, chilly flow, and was beginning to bring hints of warmth. She groaned at the thought of wearing heavy pants and long sleeved shirt to work during the hot, humid day. She got to her feet, staggered and had to hold onto the bedpost to keep from falling over. She sluggishly changed her clothes, taking extra care in the wrappings, and began rummaging around the room for her boots and cap, bent over at the waist, apishly dangling her arms about through piles of clothes when she remembered they were by the couch. She straightened without a sound, arching her back to produce a light cracking sound. She slowly walked to her door and unfastened the locks with some difficulty, even though she unlatched them many a time. She was always sure to lock her door even at night when the house was empty and still as it should be.
When she walked out, Ryan was sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was just before six. The sun was just beginning to show its face, forcing a glow to flirt with the edges of the curtain. A warm, bubbly feeling erupted inside her, causing her to run around the room opening curtains to drink up the sun’s light and warmth in the freedom she didn’t normally get. After the last window was open, she retrieved her boots and hat and put them on rapidly. She walked over to the mirror on the wall by the front door, her boots clicking on the hardwood floor noisily. She carefully hid every strand of curly blonde hair under the old, dirty hat, checking for any loose curls she might have missed in the half fast job. While tucking in the bottom of curls that were poking out, Ryan’s face appeared by hers in the mirror, eyes still slightly closed from sleep and forehead seemingly smooth as the weight of the tasks that lay ahead either hadn’t been realized yet, or weren’t yet dropped unmercifully onto him, and he yawned.
“What do you want now?” she asked, pulling the hat down more over her eyes, turning her head this way and that, observing herself at different angles as she spoke.
“Why aren’t you dressing appropriately? Women don’t usually wear-“
She spun around on her heel. She had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eyes.
“How I dress is none of your concern,” she snapped. “The night is over, so leave.” When she finished her sentence, her mind instantly recreated the sensations of loose fabric slipping and swishing about her legs.
“Fine, I’ll go,” he replied after a minute of uneasy silence. “But before I do… where are you going?”
“Work,” she answered bluntly.
He stared at her. “But you only got off hours ago!”
“Do you have a point?”
“My point is you obviously work yourself ragged, and you’re living a lie.”
“It’s not a lie, it’s-”
“What, or who, are you hiding from” he asked, ignoring her. “Maybe I can help you?”
“No, you can’t hel-”
“Something happened, didn’t it? Did someone hurt you, force you to do this? Or maybe you’re scared?” He kept bombarding her with questions, watching her eyes as they avoided his gaze.
She pushed past him as the door of the cottage, she saw in her head, was white with blue bells painted around the simple brass door knocker, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and brought her to stand in front of him.
“Let go of me!” she shrieked hysterically and desperately, thoughts of her secrets being revealed filled her head along with ghastly thoughts of the residents of that cottage, and made her very nervous. Her hands tensed, and rolled into fists.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on around here!” His brown eyes had grown impatient, forcing her to return his stare. She refused to answer him, and his grip on her tightened.
“I said let go of me!” she screamed, bringing her hands up and a blast of blue light knocked him off his feet and flung him backwards into wall that held the mirror. The mirror dangled on the nail that held it in place, the wire keeping it attached coming loose from the vibrations. In a split second, the mirror fell and shattered into cruel, cold pieces. Ryan sat among them, trying to work over what had just happened.
When she realized what had just happened, what she had done, she covered her mouth with a hand as she stared at him. But then it sunk in, and she ran to all the windows and closed them, locking the locks, and drawing the thick curtains. She shrank away from the front door, placing herself in the center of the room, away from all windows, and sources of entry. When he got up, he shook his head lightly and groaned as he stretched; a tiny crack was heard as he moved his head from side to side.
“What did you do? What was that?” he demanded, trying to act astonished, and did a fairly decent job of it, too, but before he could get his answer, there was a loud knock at the door, which was more of a bang. Her head snapped to look at the door. She didn’t seem to breathe or blink.
“What’s-”
She looked at him, and he was cut off.
“I know you’re in there. Better come open the door or I’ll have to destroy the house to get to you. Either way, you’re coming with me.”
Ryan slowly got to his feet, and went to the door. He put his hand on the first lock when Ariel jumped up, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him away from the door. He tried to break free, but her hold on his shirt was too strong. She dragged him into her room where she pushed him in, causing him to trip over his feet and fall onto the floor. It was littered with a few cigarette butts, wine bottles, candle wax, used matches, and clothes. She swiftly jumped in and locked the door behind her.
“Quickly!” she said, reaching for him after retreating from the door. “Get out through the window.” When he pulled away from her she moved to the window, which was larger than the ones in the other room, and drew back the curtains. While she was struggling with the lock, there was a blast and a crash at the front door. Heavy footsteps slowly entered the house. She gasped as they got closer and louder, but didn’t stop fumbling with the rusted lock. The window finally opened with a soft creaking sound and Ryan was pulled towards it.
“Go,” she urged. “And never come back. Don’t follow me and don’t speak to anyone about this. If you do, I swear I will find you and kill you.”
Before he leapt through the window, he held back and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She turned red and stared at him incredulously. He shrugged as he left.
Ryan was a few houses away from the one Ariel called home when he heard a scream, and when he turned back; he saw a brilliant flash of blue light. When the light subsided, he could see Ariel being dragged out of the house by her hair by a large man. Her clothing was slightly ripped, and she was bleeding in various places. A long grey bandage trailed behind her from the back of her shirt, running through the dirty street. Another man followed the first one, carrying a trunk with a piece of material hanging out the side, which swayed in the breeze, and from the motions of the man. Ryan crept after them in the shadows, making himself almost invisible as he had done countless time before, and followed them. When they turned the corner, he waited, counted to ten and then turned to see that the job was done.
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