Den of Shadows Collection: Lose yourself in the fantasy, mystery, and intrigue of this stand out trilogy. Christopher Byford
through choked words.
They picked her up, as she had done for each of them many a time. They dusted her dress and rearranged her hair to make it presentable. Trails of mascara were wiped away, lingering hugs given, and kisses on cheeks administered. Goodbyes were spoken, emotionally, until the showgirls retreated, all watching from their carriage windows.
When her sobs were stifled enough, Misu found strength in her feet once more. She left the station and stepped out into the night’s chilled embrace.
* * *
Back on the Den, however, the showgirls finally found their voices. Whatever the cause of this deception, Misu didn’t deserve such treatment. Nobody did. As Franco stormed back through the carriage, after bolting the doors from top to bottom, it was Katerina who challenged him first. The others followed in pursuit.
‘You can’t do this to her!’ Katerina objected.
‘It’s unfair!’ Kitty chimed in.
Franco spun in a roar. ‘Did you just tell me what I can do on my train?’ he questioned, ferociously.
‘Franco, please! See sense. She’s scared. Are you are just to throw her out with nothing?’
‘She didn’t have nothing. She has things.’ He was referring to the graciously given suitcase and packed clothing. He didn’t have to do that – something that was clearly being forgotten in their overfamiliar tone.
‘You don’t know what he was doing to her!’
‘And you do?’
‘Well no, not exactly.’ Katerina pleaded for him to see sense, or logic, anything. ‘This is absurd, Wyld’s stashing stolen goods in the cars and you’re kicking Misu out for some old guy who wants her as a pet? Why isn’t the desert rat getting the boot?’
‘Wyld knows the risks. It’s why she’s not seen in public with us. It’s why she operates with discretion and she knows better than anyone: one slip-up and she’s out of here. Tell me, what if Misu brought a gunfight to us on account of all this, and half of you were shot dead?’
Corinne felt a bout of frustration rise in her throat. More than the others was she familiar with Wilheim’s cruelty, but this wasn’t the solution to someone driven to such desperation. Not by a long shot.
‘Then you would be out of pocket.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Franco called.
‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it always what it comes down to? Money rules your head, Franco. I’m sure if it came to that grim circumstance you would find faces just as pretty to replace us.’
‘You’re out of line.’
‘No. You are,’ Corinne coldly delivered. ‘She’s family.’
‘When have I ever said that we were that?’
‘It didn’t need to be said. And you’ve clearly forgotten what that means.’ She gave a turn and ventured back down the carriage, shunting between seats with the clicks of her heels ebbing to nothing.
* * *
Not long after, the women performed an exodus en masse, finding somewhere, anywhere, to be than on than the Den. They desired far less stifling company and when they had taken their leave, all that was left was Franco and Jacques on a very empty train.
Without noise, without heaving company, the Den was a shell of its intentions, the silence hugely foreboding. Franco looked around the carriage, the rows of empty seats, half-drunk drinks waiting for their owners to return. Despite the clutter, it felt sparse and soulless.
Franco sighed wearily, sliding deeper into his leather seat, hoping it would swallow him whole. The two double bourbons inside him gave empty comfort.
‘And what about you? Was I too harsh?’
Jacques examined the hands of cards on the table before taking a sip from one of the tumblers, finding the contents far too sweet.
‘Not my place to say, boss.’
‘Drop the formalities.’
‘I understand why you did it, for sure.’
‘Keep going.’
‘I don’t quite understand your logic though.’
‘You think keeping everyone safe is some sort of blight?’
‘No,’ Jacques exclaimed. ‘I thought we were all family, and you toss her out. Goes against the whole family thing doesn’t it? I thought your Pappy said those he rode with was family. Considered it at least.’
‘This small detail may have escaped you but I’m not him.’
‘That you’re not,’ Jacques agreed. ‘You’re your own man with your own notions on the subject. But you have to admit, he had some bright ideas for what passed for camaraderie.’
Franco sat on these words and nodded slowly to himself in agreement. ‘You think I was too harsh.’
‘Making orphans of our own isn’t family-like to me.’
‘Have you forgotten the part where she’s thrown us to this individual to cover her own ass?’
‘Who are you trying to convince with that?’ Jacques queried. ‘You heard her talk. On all accounts this Wilheim character is nasty to the boots and you’re dead set on punishing her. I think you’re under the assumption that she had something resembling a choice.’
‘She did! Don’t use the excuse that fear prevented her from making any sort of better outcome. Misu is the furthest thing from weak. There is nothing that woman can’t do. I know her.’ The glass landed heavily on the veneer as he trailed off. ‘Or at least I assumed I did.’
‘I don’t know, Franco.’ Jacques stretched himself to take his leave. ‘Fear does something to a person; I’ve seen it with my two own. Makes them not see quite right. Can’t blame a person for acting rash. With no way out, who knows what any of us would do?’
* * *
Franco slept stretched across a seat one would assume only a cat would find comfortable. His rasping snore became a monotonous routine, one that would have woken Jacques, if it he wasn’t already fully awake, eyes staring into darkness as he lay with his hands behind his head for a pillow. He turned, murmuring in irritation, verbalizing every thought in a monotone grunts.
He rose, in the darkness, to a bang and a thump. It was not in the lounge car where they were situated. It was the sound of a trapdoor banging from the next carriage down, a noise that echoed through one of the cluttered storage cars.
Half-dressed and bleary-eyed, he moved to the door, silently stepped out into the night, and then eased open the handle to the next car along. He moved inside, to enquire after the owner.
Wyld was not around when Misu had been expelled from the train. In fact, she had been missing for a good few hours beforehand, gallivanting with whatever criminality she needed to. Now, she had slipped in the under trapdoor, beneath the car, securing its bolt with a slap. Her eyes snapped to Jacques, assessing his entrance. The man stepped further in.
‘Most people knock you know.’ Wyld narrowed her eyes. ‘I may be unaccounted for, but that doesn’t mean I don’t exist. A little consideration if you please.’
‘And for that, I apologize. This is important.’
‘What’s the matter?’
Jacques cleared his throat behind a fist. ‘Misu is gone.’
* * *
‘Gone, gone?’
‘Franco kicked her off. She’s been seeing some men without our knowledge, sneaking out at night, things like that.’
‘Men.’