Chapter 3: Chapter One: She who they call Demon

“Get back here you little thief!” A disgruntled shopkeep barked as he chased a filthy child down the city streets. The child ran barefoot across the cold wet sidewalk, charging through oncoming traffic as they desperately clung to a bushel of apples. Screaming obscenities the burly man barreled through the traffic after her, two others joining him in his pursuit. 

 

Gritting her teeth the child ran faster and faster, hugging her stolen meal to her chest as she began to weave between pedestrians on the crowded streets. The man did not relent, despite his robust size he managed to keep pace with the child, running as though he was possessed by a hate for the thieving kid. She had to shake him, if he won’t get lost in the crowd then there had to be another place she could lose him. Keeping her head down she plowed forward through the many people that blocked her escape, till she looked up to see a parking structure in the distance. “I’ll have to try there,” she thought, turning to the carpark narrowly evading the grasp of her haggard pursuer.

 

She quickly scurried up a chain fence, the bag that contained the treasured fruit snagging onto the top. As she went over the fence the bag tore open spilling its contents on the other side. She cried out reaching for the apples trying her hardest to stop the fruit from getting away, sadly only saving a single small apple. Relieved to have even a single item to feast on, and worried the shopkeep would catch up, she continued to flee into the parking structure.

 

Two stories underground and a good few minutes later, the girl at last believed she evaded her pursuers. She sighed a breath of relief and leaned against the wall ready to take a bite. The apple was not very big, and it was bruised, but it was an apple and that is all that mattered. Her stomach growled with a tight pain as if telling her to hurry up and eat the fruit. At last, she could take a bite.

 

“You miserable little demon,” it wasn’t until she heard the shopkeeper's hateful growl that she noticed he was there. He slammed her head against the wall with his meaty grimey hand and spat in her face, “worthless little curr, stole a whole bushel of apples from my shop and managed to lose them all.”  With another pull and push again he forced her head back into the wall, causing her to drop the apple to the muddy ground below. “All that effort and this is all you have to show for it, you don’t deserve it,” he tossed her to the ground, her face landing near the fallen fruit. “Devils don’t deserve the food of the good people,” he laughed as he crushed the apple beneath his boot. “Do everyone a favor and starve to death already, this world will be better off without you,” he stamped hard on the apple, its guts crushed and smashed into the parking lot floor. He laughed a baleful ugly laugh and left the girl a sobbing bleeding mess on the ground.

 

She limply dragged herself closer to the obliterated apple's remains, smearing more mud on her already filthy and tattered dress, and scooped up a soiled mush that could hardly be called food. A river of tears streaming down her cheeks, she ate. She buried her face in the ground, consuming whatever bit of “apple” that she could, knowing that pride had no place in the heart of a survivor.  

 

A few hours later she had wandered back to the dirty little slum she called “home”. Words she could not understand were painted over the top of the bridge of a long unused train track, welcoming the destitute to come in. Shacks built from discarded materials lined the walls of that old rail yard, looking every bit as inviting as a lion's open mouth. Seedy and sad, it was the only place she could find refuge, in the village of outcasts. Her calloused feet could barely feel the pain of walking over that gravel everyday as she made her way to her overturned train car.

 

The door screeched as she slid it open, the rusted tracks putting up more and more of a fight every time she came or went. Days were rough, but at least she would spend her nights in shelter. Forcing the door shut behind her, she sighed, “I’m home Batty,” she called out to the old torn plush toy that laid in wait for her on a fleeridden couch cushion. “I got to eat an apple today, that makes two this week,” she laughed, “it would be better if it wasn’t dirty though.” The child sat down next to her “stuffed” animal friend and cradled it in her arms, “I probably shouldn’t go back to Fredrick’s anymore. After today he’ll probably kick me out before I even get to grab anything… either that or he’ll beat me again…” she tried to smile, to be strong and put on a brave face, but her tears betrayed her. “Why do they keep calling me a demon Batty? What’s wrong with me?” she hugged the old toy tighter and tighter, it would have popped a seam had it not already lost most of its fluff. “I’m not a demon… I’m not…” she repeated till she cried herself to sleep.

 

The cold night gave way to a miserably hot day with a quite terrible awakening. The girl was stirred from her sleep by the sound of pounding against the wall of her “house”. A man yelled from the outside, calling her to open up. She grumbled and groaned as she walked to the door and pulled it open with a loud deafening creak. 

“Bout time you answered,” a belligerent teen grunted. He stood there learning down on her as she rubbed her tired eyes. The sight of his thin pale face so early made her stomach pains worse. “Come on, Silver, no time to sleep now,” his furry cat-like ears twitched as he spoke.

“What is it, Reks?” the girl grumbled, squinting as the sun shone brightly behind the unwanted guest.

He grabbed her by the hem of her dress and pulled, “come on, Loche has a job for you, runt.” 

“Loche can shove it, unless he wants to pay me for my last job then I’m not doing anythin for him again!” She tried to pry herself from his grip, but gave up when she felt that struggling would rip her dress even more.

“Pay ya? This is Vallah kid, you should be happy he’s not throwin a demon like you out,” Reks gave a swift tug on her dress compelling her to follow. 

“I’m not a demon,” she protested.

“Only demons got eyes like yours, how else you explain that, boy?”

“I’m not a boy either!” She slapped his hand, and he let her go for a moment, only to grab on to her arm and pull.

“You are a boy, you are a demon, and you are goin to do this job!” His grip was tight around her wrist, she tried to pull away, to protest, but reluctantly she gave in and went with the boy to see the man called Loche.

They walked along the tracks, the hot sun beaming down past the distant buildings that rose above their little village like the mountains of a valley. Those old train tracks sat sandwiched between two high walls, making Vallah feel more of an open air tunnel than an old railway. Luckily the night was cold and so the gravel did not yet get heated enough by the sun to burn the girls feet. Still it was not a comfortable walk for her, not that any walk was, and her destination made the trek there all the worse. 

 

After a short walk, the two of them came upon three train cars that had once been involved in some kind of wreck, this was the place known to those who lived there as the “Throne of Vallah”.

“Alright, git inside already demon boy,” Reks pushed her, directing her through the train cars back door.

“What, not gonna join me? His majesty not welcomin you into his throne room?” She taunted him.

“Shut it, less time around him the better,” he spat.

 

Rolling her eyes, the girl followed his instruction and got onboard the train. She walked down the long car, envying Loche for the old velvet lined seats of the former luxury car. Even in their current condition, the dirtiest and most worn there had to still be more comfortable than the cushion she called a bed. The train car felt impossibly long, and the temptation to just stop and sit a while was impossibly strong, but she knew better than to intrude in Loche’s private abode. She was called there for a reason, and she had to see to it whether she liked it or not. At the end of the train car were the private rooms, once reserved for the wealthiest of passengers, now the private residence of the “prince of the streets” the “God of Vallah” Loche. 

Two roguish men stood watch at the door, sneering at the girl as she approached.

“I’m here to see Loche,” she told them through her own sneer. 

“You’re late,” one of the men growled.

“Then I guess I better go ahead and apologize,” she clicked her tongue, “you gonna let me in?”

 

Almost reluctantly the men stepped aside, one of them spitting at her feet as she passed. The private room was deceptively big, though not as grand as a real throne room. Still, it was by far the nicest room she had ever seen, complete with a soft feather mattress, silk sheets, and faded blackout curtains that must have been crimson red at one time. The room was rather pretty all things considered, everything in it was nice, everything except the man who lied atop the aforementioned mattress. 

 

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite silver haired tramp,” he laughed as she entered the room, “just how long did you plan to keep me waiting kiddo?”

“What are you talking about? I came as soon as Reks got me,” she argued, but he scoffed at her and waved his wand.

“Silver, my fine young boy, it’s that time of month again,” he said with a yellow crooked smile, “everyones paid me their dues but you kiddo.”

“I’m sorry Loche but I don’t have any Ides, I don’t like stealin money, you know that.”

“Steal? Who said you had to steal. Sell your teeth, or maybe you can whore off that cute little body of yours,” his words made the girl's stomach churn with a deeper pain than her own hunger, “honestly, I don’t care how you get the money. I need Ides, Silver, and you don’t got them. You do like living in that train car I gave you, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry Loche, I’ll get you the Ides, just give me some time please. I’m only a kid,” she feigned tears, not because she wasn’t actually sad, but because her eyes were too dry from crying herself to sleep.

“Oh stop it, don’t give me those crocodile tears,” Loche groaned, “so what, you think that being a kid means you can’t be useful? Do you know why I let you live in that train car?”

She did, but she refused to answer. She stood silent, casting her gaze to the ground.

“You have a pretty face, Silver, and a slender body. There are a good many things you can do, but if you can't figure what, then I’ll have to figure it out for you. And trust me boy, I know you wouldn’t like the things I’d have you do.”

“So is that the job Reks was talkin about? Am I gonna be your toy now?” she did not bother to hide the disgust in her voice..

“No, lucky for you I have another option on the table,” he cracked a creepy perverted grin, “but screw it up, and well, you’ll only have one option left, little boy.”

“I’ll take the job!” She took no time to think about it, or even hear it out.

“So hasty to turn me down huh? You don’t even know what it is. Fine, I’ll tell you, but listen close cause I’m not repeating myself okay?”

She nodded, a slimy feeling covering her back as her mind was filled with intrusive thoughts of the terrible things that would happen if she were to fail this new job.

“Paying attention? Good,” he sat up from his mattress and leaned close to the girl, “word on the street is that Saint Augustus cathedral just got a generous donation from the Crown, and the bastards are just hoarding it inside their coffers. Of course, that probably won’t last long, knowing the Shepherds they’ll put that money to use on some new weapon or something soon.”

“Alright, so what am I supposed to do? Sneak in at night and steal their gold or something?”

“No my pretty little twit,” he cupped the girl's face in his hand, causing her to recoil, “you’re going to dress up like a good little altar boy, get the key to the coffers off the decon, and bring me all those Ides.”

“How am I gonna get anywhere near the Decon with my eyes lookin like this?” she argued.

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“Wear an eyepatch or maybe just pluck out your eye already, your choice,” he shrugged, “though it would be a shame if you hurt that delicate little face of yours.” 

“Okay, an eye patch is fine, but where am I supposed to get altar boy clothes or an eye patch?”

“Do I have to figure everything out for you? You are lucky you're pretty, boy, cause clearly you’re as dumb as a rock,” Loche sighed, “find an alter boy and liberate him of his clothes. Make an eyepatch from some cloth or something, I don’t know, tear your dress some more if you want.”     

“Gee thanks for the help,” she clenched her jaw.

“I said I would provide you a job opportunity, how you go about it is up to you. Though I am surprised that you would take this over my other offer, didn’t you just say you hate stealing money?”

“Church is different,” she spat, recalling her past encounters with priests and so-called ‘holy men’, “I’ll do it.”

“Good boy, I am glad you are being so obedient, I always knew you would make such a perfect little pet,” Loche caressed her face again.

Smacking his hand away she stepped back, “I’ll get you your damn Ides, but after that I want you to leave me alone.” 

“No can do, Silver, as long as you’re living in my humble little village then you’re mine,” he gave her an insincere smile, “unless you don’t want my protection anymore, then you can find a new home.” 

“Tch, fine, just don’t touch me,” eager to leave, “I’ll pay whatever I have to pay you, just keep your hands off me.” 

“Don’t screw up this job and you won’t have to worry about that,” he waved his hand flippantly, “now as much as I love seeing that pretty little face of yours, you have a church to rob, boy. Good luck, Silver, though whether you succeed or not I’ll still win.” 

 

With that last slimy remark she left him, hastily escaping from the luxury train, back out to the train tracks where Reks stood waiting.         

“What are you still doin here, don’t you got a granny to harass or somethin?” she quipped. 

“You took the job, didn’t ya? I gotta make sure you don’t try and run off with all that money.”

She hadn’t even considered that, honestly she cared less about the money and more about being able to sleep soundly without having Loche come knocking on her door. She rolled her eyes, “if you are comin along anyway then help me out. You know how I can get in that church after they shut the doors for the night?”

“Windows are barred, doors are locked tight, you’re gonna have to be inside before they lock up,” he answered as the two walked back down the train tracks. 

“I was afraid of that…” She sighed, “guess the altar boy idea really is my only option.”

“Altar boy? So what, you need some church threads?” 

“Church threads? What?”

“Clothes, dumb ass,” Recks smacked the back of her head, “don’cha understand? You saying you gunna dress up like a altar boy right?” 

Rubbing her head, she nodded, “Yeah, that’s what Loche told me to do.”

 

“Well I guess you’re lucky, cause I think I know someone who can help with that,” His ears perked up as he grinned.

With no further questions, the girl followed as the two of them left their little village made of trash behind and entered the city proper. 

The streets were always crowded so early in the morning, many people simply going about their day on their way to work, school, or church. Despite her appearance, the girl usually never drew anyones attention, or more accurately, they didn’t want her to know they saw her. Though Reks was a different story, as the people avoided him for a very different reason. The teen clicked his tongue and scoffed at the dirty looks many gave him. The girl had never ventured into the city with Reks before, and so she seemed confused at the sort of attention her acquaintance was getting. 

“What’s their problem?” she asked him, making eye contact with a sneering passing stranger.

Reks ignored her question and kept his gaze forward, his ears tilting back and posture stiff. The continued walking down the streets, taking a turn every so often, till a good time had passed and the girl could see a change in the stone work used in each building. 

 

Instead of the mixture of concrete, cinder blocks, and interspersing faded bricks, this part of town had been built with bright red bricks, stone masonry, and marble. She had rarely came this way, but she knew the area to be called “Bonneville”. The attitude of the people seemed to shift her slightly, Reks was no longer the only one getting dirty glances, but many people now turned their attention to the girl too. The usual passing judgment she faced had been replaced by total avoidance, many stepping off the sidewalk or crossing the street as to not come close to the young girl. She didn’t like it, but then again she never liked the way people treated her.

 

Not long after arriving in Bonneville, they came to a stop in front of a pretty little brick building. Mannequins in fancy clothes could be seen through the windows, and a big sign with a picture of a spool of thread on it hung over the door. “This is it,” Reks said, “try not to touch anything while we’re in there, Silver, don’t need them goin and saying you made their threads dirty.”

Sticking her tongue out at the boy, she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She followed him into the shop, fully expecting to be cast out immediately.

 

"Welcome to Jojo's boutique!" a young golden haired boy greeted them as a bell chimed on the door. He smiled brightly for a moment, then his face turned sour as he saw the girl, "your dress," he said distraught, "what have you done to that poor dress?"

"Nevermind him Josiah, we're here to discuss something important," Reks said leaning against a nearby wall, "I'm here to collect a favor.”

"You've wasted no time in cashing in, Recks," the boy sighed as he gave Reks a cheeky smile, "so then, what can I do for you?"

"We need some church robes, the kind altar boys would wear," Recks answered.

"Looking to join the choir? Funny, I never thought you were the church type," Josiah giggled.

"We got ourselves a big score we're looking to liberate from those Shepherds," Reks attempted to put on his toughest facade, slicking back his hair and striking a mean pose.

"Shepherds, are you sure you want to go stealing from Shepherds now?" The shop boy clicked his tongue, "I wouldn't want to get caught on the wrong end of the law when they're involved."

"All sides of the law are wrong when it comes to them damn Sheps," Reks said, "so long as you don't go putting 'Jojo' branding on the robes then it should be fine.”

Josiah sighed, placing his head in his hand, "you're lucky I owe you, anyone finds out that our shop helped rob the Shepherds and we can kiss our business goodbye."

 

All while the two boys talked, the girl marveled at the many fanciful dresses on display around the little boutique. Dresses with many layers, ruffles, ribbons, and other pretty little trimmings filled the room. It was an art gallery of fashion, a treasure trove of pretty little garments. The girl looked at her own dress, covered in mud, blood, and other stains she didn't want to identify, and then back to the dresses around her. Hungrily she gazed at each one, she was a starving child in a buffet line, hoping to get her fill.

 

"You like what you see?" Josiah's question snapped her attention back to the real world. She simply nodded, and he smiled at her, "your friend says you're gonna be coming into a lot of money, you should come back after you finish your job."

Turning her gaze downward she wrapped her arms over her chest and tearfully said, "I'm not gonna be makin any money, it belongs to Loche."

"So, this is a job for that monster now is it?" Josiah's tone sounded far less warm for a moment, then the sweetness returned to his voice, "I am truly sorry."

“So, you’re gonna help us out?” Reks asked, leaning close to Josiah.

“Yes,” he sighed, “but only because you’re cute," Josiah teased the boy.

"Stop that, I'm not cute," Reks shook his head, his ears erect and face red.

"Which church is it? Some churches have little details in their garments others don't," Josiah asked as he fetched a pad of paper from behind a counter.

"Saint Augustus Cathedral," the girl answered.

Josiah's face grew pale as he stared back at the girl in intense silence before simply saying, "Oh, that is a big score."

"You know something we don't know?" Reks laughed.

"The crown has likely made a rather large donation, I assume that's why you're targeting them in particular,"

"Yea, no duh we know that already, anything else you wanna share?" Reks rolled his eyes.

Josiah noded, "It just so happens that they will be hosting Prince Oden’s confirmation ceremony in three days."

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