Her Story

Note: i wrote this ages ago, but never posted it. I've squished many bits of different stories into this. Gift points to those who can pick them all out.


I sighed as I leaned over the balcony. ‘Damnit!’ I thought ‘Why must I go to another of the stupid social gatherings?’ The breeze swept my light dress around my small frame. Below me was the sparkling sea and above a crystal blue sky, with wisps of clouds lazily floating by.

I could hear K-C Zero pottering about the large condominium. K-C Zero was the family robot; I’d been pretty much brought up by it more than my own biological parents that were often on some vacation. What they needed so many vacations for Ariona didn’t know. At the moment they were probably on some luxury space cruiser gliding around Saturn or one of Jupiter’s Moons. K-C Zero came skittering outside to Ariona.
“Come inside, not only will you catch your death out here…if you don’t get ready soon you’ll be late for the ball!” She chirped. Well at least I thought it was a she, it was too motherly to be anything else. I frowned but obediently followed her in.
“Strip…” K-C Zero commanded. And again I complied. I grudgingly stepped into the red gown, as pretty as it was I could get excited for the occasion. K-C Zero grew another four arms that started to comb and pin my hair, apply some make up and tie up the ribbon of the corset bodice of the dress.
“There, you’re finished! Now go and find a good, handsome, rich boy now, so you can make your parents proud.” She twittered as she gathered my dress and pushed me into a waiting limo taxi.

*****

I, Ariona Farington; felt like a slave on the auction block as I stood atop the curved staircase. One by one all sets of eyes turned my way as I tentatively made her descent. I fought the urge to tug at the sides of my evening gown; it was too tight around my waist and hips, not to mention the chill I felt from its nonexistent neckline. Unaccustomed to wearing such clothing I nearly tripped over the flared hem. ‘Shit! Is my face turning as red as the dress?’ I wanted nothing more than to high tail it back to my bedroom suite, tear off the offending garment, and cry myself to sleep. Straightening, I continued my way down the staircase; I may as well have a night out, particularly with the fact that I couldn’t go home, knowing that my parents would go loco if they found I’d come home early. The Orchestra began to play a fanciful piece by Bach as Ariona took her final step to the black and white marble landing. Relief flooded through me when I caught sight of chair on the side of the room where I could sit for the night hopefully to be mostly unnoticed. ‘Gawd, I really hate these things.’ I sighed, ‘All they’re about is for rich guys to meet rich girls and get married and have rich itty-bitty kiddies of their own. I don’t know why I bother coming to these things, they’re all stuck up brats really…’

Sipping my cup of punch, I twisted a small hanky in my hand. The dress seamed to be getting tighter and I was beginning to find it hard to breath. I wondered if K-C Zero had done the ribbon of the corset like bodice up too tight. I stood up, my breathing getting slightly shallower. ‘I have to get this loosened or I’ll suffocate!’ I thought so I started to make my way over to the bathroom despite the humiliation I’d feel. I watched my feet so that I wouldn’t trip over them as I walked. Blackness appeared in my view and I blinked my eyes, thinking that I’d fainted. I looked up, noticing the silvery skin of the male stranger standing in front of me. I focused onto his eyes, the aquamarine colour of them pulling me into their water-like depths. He blinked breaking his almost hypotonic stare, a smile creeping across his face.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked. His voice was melodious; it too was entrancing like his eyes. I found myself nodding my head ever so slightly agreeing to his offer. As we danced I could have sworn that we were floating a couple of centimetres off the ground…but it was probably due to my light-headedness from the too tight dress. Trying to keep focus I looked at his hands, his skin was silkily cool to the touch but not chilling, I drew my eyes up to his face, his smile alluring.
“Would you care to tell me your name, sweet butterfly?” he asked, his voice making my heart flutter.
“Ariona” I breathed. I gazed into his eyes, feeling weaker by the minute. They frightened me, so cold and yet intriguing; they seemed to see into my soul. ‘I wonder if he likes what he sees?’ I thought. Once more I felt myself being drawn into the crystalline depth of his eyes, enveloping me in their watery pits, wanting to turn away but not finding the strength. ‘I’m going to drown!!’ Finally I forcefully pulled my eyes away from his, the effort making me perspire. My chest become even tighter, my breathing became laboured. ‘Damn dress…oh…!’ I thought as my knees suddenly gave way, the only reason I stayed on my feet was that the stranger held me tightly. My vision was blacking out but I forced myself to stay conscious.
“Air” I wheezed, and then I could feel myself being picked up and carried outside into the adjacent garden. The fogginess closed in for a second time. When they finally cleared I noticed he’d sat me down on a bench in a secluded glade…and he had started to un-string my ribboned dress corset.
“What are you doing?” I squealed
“It was too tight, I’ve loosened it so you can breathe…” he answered his breath warm in the cool air. I could see the clouds of it coming past my neck.
I drew in a large icy breath of air, and rejoiced in the burning sensation it gave me. I murmured my thanks while feeling the stranger’s eyes on my neck, a creepy, prickling feeling. I involuntarily shuddered as his breath moved across my bare shoulders to rest just below my right ear.
“I’ll be seeing you round.” He whispered. He got up and started to walk away. ‘NO! Don’t go!’ I thought ‘There’s something about you…’
“But…” I jumped up and caught his hand; cool in my grasp “I don’t even know your name.” I said instead. I was too bold, he frightened me but I didn’t know how, and still I wanted to know him. He took a step back towards me, his other hand lightly grazing my blushing cheek. He drew me to him and held me so close that she could feel my heart hammer against his tuxedoed chest. I could taste him as our moist breaths intermingled between us. At that moment his lips closed onto mine, my lips parting, and his tongue gently probing into my mouth. I gasped and moaned softly, deep in my throat. Though I was eighteen, I had never allowed a boy to kiss me. I hadn’t the patience for their adolescent fumbling, their awkward bravado, and their hesitant gestures of affection. I had kept to myself, not knowing why or where, or when I would allow a man to touch my body or my soul. I felt a small thrill of pleasure, once the shock of being kissed that way subsided. His arms encircled me, drawing me near, pulling my body tightly against his own. I relaxed against him, allowing him to cradle me in the crook of his arm as his tongue danced sensuously, seductively, and wantonly with my own. I was so hot and dizzy with desire that I had to hold to him to keep from swooning. He pulled back. “You won’t need to” he purred in answer to my seemingly distant objection and walked into the shadows that swallow him, leaving no trace that he had even existed, except for the lingering sweet taste inside my own mouth.
*****

Bending over tables set a crick into my back. I had to pause a moment, placing one of the heavy tankards onto the scarred surface of a nearby table. Freed, my hand worked to massage down the side of my spine; seeking out the sore, tense spots.
“Lemme get that for you, honey.”
I perverted a snarl into a grin, flinched away from the contact before the hand touched by back. “I’ll bring your drink right out, sir. Please sit down.”
“Be sure ye make it a nice big one, my girl.” Heedless of my wince, the reeling man punctuated his order with a firm smack that lingered across my behind. I ducked away, feigning eagerness to fill the half-empty tankards. His inebriation and the dim smoky light of the pub hid my expression, the quick flicker of teeth clenching, the flare of nostrils and angry flash of eyes. A moment later, I forced a smile over my shoulder on the way back to the bar.
Away from the hearth now, the air in the room turned cool, mid-Fall briskness hinting already at winter. I fanned in the chill eagerly, letting it evaporate the beads of sweat across my skin--neck, arms, throat, the shoulders, and bosom half-bared by the tight lines of the shirt. I pulled down on my mini skirt, trying in vane to lengthen it to give the drunken men less incentive to touch me. The bra bit uncomfortably into my ribs when I inhaled under the weight of three tankards full from the tap.
My life now almost revolved around this bar. My parents had decided to arrange a marriage for me since I was too slow to do so myself, but I wasn’t going to marry some pompous guy just because it would be good for them to have another 50 million up their sleeve so I packed up and left. But the world is now a bitter place and has no room for a former rich girl, and to keep myself alive I picked up this job and a small room in a border house three streets away. It was enough…for the time being. I had learnt the ropes quickly enough and realise a smile could be worth a small tip, but a suggestive glance was worth more.
The pair of drunken labourers caroused at one table, but otherwise only shadows and cobwebs laid claim to the other seats. Perhaps the rain was the culprit--a huge, wet downpour, slinging rivulets of water against the smoky glass windows. Few braved the streets in such weather. The fire threw flickers across the room, half-lighting the dark wood of the smoky interior.
I paused, rethinking. At a corner table, a man sat with his back to the wall. Behind a heavy black coat and hat, I didn’t see much of his face. Then, perhaps sensing my interest, he turned his head slightly, and his eyes caught at the firelight’s like a cat, a sudden flash of aquamarine so bright as to be glowing. A moment later, he turned away, and the impression fled. It left me wondering if I’d taken leave of my senses. That face, pale and perfect, carved of marble in sharp angles, struck through you, left an impression of utter unreality.
“I’ll go ask if he wants anything else.” Daring, definitely. Stupid, probably. But that impulse, that feel for people, had kicked into action. Something was...‘different but similar’ about this man.
The stranger didn’t look up as I approached. That might have fooled Elsie, or Mary, or one of the other night barmaids, but it did not fool me. Me, who made extra cash staring through the bluffs of Sam’s poker games. Me, who knew something was off about the man, and who read discomfort into the sudden shift of his shoulders beneath the coat, the casually slow tilt of his head away from mine to hide his eyes and the smoothness of his profile. Me, who was too damned nosy for her own good.
“Freshen your drink, sir?” Perhaps half a year of tending tables had made a sauce out of me after all, or perhaps the silence made me audacious. Something buoyed my spirits, coated my tone with cheer, and left me standing closer to his table than I would for any other patron’s.
“No.” He muffled his voice, mumbling to hide the trace of some accent or a quality of its sound. “I’m very well. Thank you.”
I doubted that. His hands, clenched white-knuckled around the handle of his tankard. Sinews and veins stood out firm against the almost silvery skin, indicating the same slenderness about the rest of him, hidden by the black coat. An involuntary violent tremble shook the tankard, revealing the slosh of a full mug. He hadn’t touched the beer. Something niggled at the back of my brain, I knew this person, but I couldn’t place who it was. Something similar about the skin and the voice…like a melody…
He’d sat through the past hour simply watching, pretending to drink, eyes Almighty knows where. I supposed it should have frightened me...but I did not frighten easily anymore.
“Food? We’ve a chicken on the spit--”
His shoulders hunched in as he grimaced. “No, no. You’re too kind. I just wish to...finish in peace. Thank you.”
“If you--”
“Thank you!” Curt, harsh, but something other than anger hovered ragged-edged in his tone, something akin to desperation. Still, I took an involuntary step back, surprise drawing a gasp from me. He’d turned in his seat with his last words, and the firelight threw his face into vibrant contrast.
He was too pale, like death, blue veins crawling far too visibly beneath skin like ice. Lips, cheeks, gums when he opened his mouth to speak--instead of the rosy blush of life, they’d faded to a kind of grey only slightly tinged with pink. Only his eyes seemed alive in that death mask--vibrant aquamarine, far too green for blue, the pupils wide and richly black in the dim light. Fair hair swept back, rich and full, from a high forehead, leaving his eyes all the clearer for the contrast. A moment later, he dropped his eyes back to the plate, turning again so that shadows wreathed his features. “That will be all.” But that look was enough for me I knew who it was… and I was shocked I didn’t recollect him sooner. He was from the night at the ball; forgotten memories and dreams came back to me. But my stranger seemed healthier more human then. I felt a longing to hear his voice again, too feel him…I shook my head but he ensnared me that night too, I had fanciful dreams about him many a night after our one meeting but time broke whimsical thoughts. But there was defiantly something more too him that met the eye.
“Sugar-plum, I’m getting cold over here!”
I’d been too distracted. A burly arm looped around my waist, pressing me back into the bulk of someone’s chest. Surprised, I flinched involuntarily, letting the tankard drop with a heavy thump against the rough stone floor. The thick wooden mug survived, but spilled ale pooled around our feet.
“You spilled our god-damned beer!” Outraged, the drunken man’s companion sprang to his side, glowering down at me. He was at least a foot taller than me, built with muscle, probably a sailor.
‘Sam’, I pleaded around the apologetic false smile glued to my lips.
“Aw, hell, s’all right. You’ll keep us warm in other ways, right, honey?” His friend wasn’t letting go. The sides of his forearms dug heavily into my ribs as he pressed his hips into my back suggestively.
“Let go!” He was big, but drunk and slow. I freed my arm enough to snap an elbow back, sharply, into his midsection. The man grunted, his grip loosening enough for me to twist away. Sam had dropped his own glass, and was running towards us. My safety lay in reaching him, the bar, somewhere distant and shadowy where I could wait out the confrontation, let Sam handle the bouncer’s role.
I didn’t make it. The first man’s slap took me across the jaw, sending me sprawling back into--of all things--the stranger’s table. The wooden rim punched into my lower back, drawing a sharp yelp. The hands that clenched on my shoulders from behind surprised me, as did the iron strength in that grip. Standing, the stranger stood taller than I did, and his thinness evidently hid wiry muscle well.
Sam held an old blunderbuss, of all things, the muzzle aimed at the two troublemakers. “I think you gentlemen have had enough.” His hands didn’t tremble, one finger wrapped tight and sure around the trigger.
Bearded lips curled into a snarl, but the two men stepped backwards, edging towards the door. “Old bastard,” the aggressor spat. “We won’t be comin’ back here! The grandfather and the whore can explain to the owner why they don’t have business tonight.” Chuckling the edge of the threat away, the two men staggered congenially enough out the open door.
“You all right, Ariona?” Sam’s voice was gentle and warm. He propped the blunderbuss point-downward on the floor, one hand reaching for the bruise developing on my cheek.
“I’ll be fine.” My questing fingers and a wince found the sore spot, the tiny ribbon of blood on the side of my mouth where the lip had split under the blow. I’d hardly be suited for work for a few days--bruised barmaids earned few tips.
And then, the hairs lifted on the nape of my neck, crawling with the force of someone’s gaze. I turned my head, met the stranger’s expression full on. He hadn’t lifted his hands from my shoulders, and the fingers dug in through the partly open shirt like talons, pinching the skin taut. His gaze stayed locked on my face now, something terrible in the intensity of that look, lingering on where beads of blood shone livid against the darkening flesh of my bruise. Frowning, Sam shifted his gaze to the man, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the blunderbuss’s handle. The meaning of that was clear.
“Excuse me,” In a single, jerky motion the man sprang away from me, sweeping up coat and hat and bolting for the door. There was only the cool, momentary brush of a hand against mine, pressing dry paper into my palm--a whole 50 pound note, an unbelievably rich tip--a rushed murmur of “for your trouble.” The man practically bolted for the door, the tail of his coat flapping against the back of his knees.
“I’m fine.” My jaw ached, and every step I took pulled painfully at the sore part of my back, but I faked another smile. “I’m--going to take a walk, all right?”
“In the rain?”
“In the rain.” I firmed my voice as much as possible.
“Yeah.” Sam pulled the old blunderbuss back into his hands, eyeing it lovingly. “Go on home, all right? No one’s coming tonight. And take a few days off, you need it.”
I threw an ankle length coat over my clothes, but I was soaked to the bone after five steps into the street. The downpour turned the air around me to liquid silver, heavy curtains of water through which landmarks became invisible. Streams ran freely over the cobblestones, overflowing the rain gutters on the side of the street.
But I squinted into the rain, blinked water and plastered golden bangs alike from my eyes--and just barely sighted the dark clad-figure ducking out of sight.
Heedless of the danger, I bunched my wet coat into both hands to free my ankles and ran. I stumbled over uneven cobbles a time or two, and slipped across slick wet stone, but I balanced well, and within a few moments I’d drawn close enough to make out the thinness of the hunched figure. It was him, and in front of him...the staggering, soaked figure of the man from the tavern. The one who’d slapped me. The threadlike man drew abreast of the drunk one. They spoke--or so it seemed from barely glimpsed gestures. The drunkard threw out his arm aggressively, puffed out his chest, and glowered down at the somewhat shorter figure. The other did not back down, his own movements calm and fluid as he spoke. Apparently outraged, the drunken man swung. The other ducked gracefully, backing away in controlled steps towards the mouth of the alley. Goaded, the aggressive man followed.
Curiosity sunk its teeth into my side. I ignored the voice of caution in the back of my head and ran, my pace an aggressive wet tempo against the stone. I drew abreast of the alley mouth, and paused in shock. The lean man’s movements were a dance. Quick, flickering sidesteps and swipes, the very control of the figure hinting that he merely toyed with the big, lumbering man. The other’s face flushed crimson in the poor light, angry punches connecting only on air. The game intensified when the slender man leaped over him.
My breath, shocked, caught in my throat. My eyes had played tricks on me, surely! Yet he had jumped over the man’s head, whipping into him from behind. Thin arms, nothing more than flesh wrapped around bone, dug into the huge man’s side, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and flinging him headfirst into the stonewall. While I watched, the victor leaned in, brushing his face into the limp, half-conscious man’s neck. The bigger man jerked once, a convulsive flailing of limbs, and then slumped into the wall.
I must have gasped or cried out, for the stranger stiffened and stepped away from the unconscious body. Bereft of the strong arm holding it up against the wall, it slid into an ungainly heap on the cobbles. I remembered that strength well. A flicker of lightning illuminated the face I’d expected to see…wet fair hair, pale carved-marble features…and vibrant streaks of red down the mouth and chin, traces of blood trailing down to his collar and darkening his lips to wine.
Facing each other about three yards apart, we both froze. Some madness had drawn me even closer in tiny steps, until I could see the uneven hitch in the big man’s breathing, the darkening mark on his neck around the well of blood. Something nauseated twisted inside me, but my expression still did not match the utter shock on the thin man’s face. When I didn’t move, he burst into action, tearing out of the alley past me faster than I could track with my eyes. I reacted, flinging my arms up involuntarily to catch at the dark shape. I expected a collision, but instead my fingers plucked into wet corse black material. The stranger had left me with an armful of coat, a dead body, and silence, listening to the rapid rhythm of running footsteps fade into the distance through the torrential.
I touched my own neck with a shudder, flinching away from what I’d just seen. But repulsion didn’t stop me from digging into the folds of jacket, retrieving the man’s heavy old-fashioned pocketbook. Numb fingers fumbled with the brass clasp, until it popped open, spilling crumpled white calling cards out into the rain. I retrieved one, twirling it between my fingers, watched the rain dampen the black ink of the name and address marching across the swatch of paper.
I heard something behind me as I pulled on his jacket. Voices, along with loud bangs from a gun. So I ran blindly down the ally way a little more than a river covered footpath. I cast a hasty glance over my shoulder as I ran, expecting the men to come charging into view at every turn. My legs dodged, turned, and flew as fast as they could carry me away from the scene.
Presently I became out of breath and ducked into a close passage between two bushes. I lay under the brush out of view of the path, waiting to catch my breath and think. My body shivered and each pant brought an icy haze from my frozen blue lips. My mind raced, where was I to go…home was too far off to be of any refuge, the card came back into my mind, ‘Lothian Draconis, Verde Street no. 7.’
I began to rise when in the same instant a man bolted from the horizon, gun drawn. I ducked and crouched down again. Glancing from beneath the brush, I saw the guy turn toward me. He started to approach my hiding place. I had to get away so I jumped from the brush and leaped right at him in the same fluid motion. With a loud holler, the startled man fell backward. I was on him in a heartbeat, tugging at the knife in his belt.
But he recovered from his momentary fright too quickly and grabbed my hands, but not before I had the knife. The man scrambled to his feet, his fingers tight around my wrists. Eyes bulging, he laughed unconvincingly.
“You’ve got the wrong person…” I yelled, “I didn’t kill your friend…” I twisted my wrists in his grip and the blade bit into the flesh of his arm. “Ah!” he yelped and dropped his hands. I raised my knee in the same instant and planted my foot firmly on his chest. I kicked with all my might, flying backwards in the air to land on my back winded. The guy stumbled and stuck the ground; his breath rushed from his lungs in a gasp and his hat fell from his head.
I shivered violently in the cold breeze. I’d done it! But I had to get away now while I had the chance. A moment later hands were on me, an arm thrown across my throat. “NO!” I yelled but I was dragged off my feet and thrown viciously aside. Head landed heavily against a garbage can. Pain shot up my spine and into my brain in a sickening, white flare.
Groaning, I dragged myself to my feet. I stood, leaning against a wall, shaking my head to clear the grey mist from my eyes as the rain fell heavily down. The man moved toward me. “I will finish with you,” he said, his voice thick with rage. There was blood splashed over his clothing from the cut in his arm.
I tried to duck his next blow but I was still reeling form the hit to my head. It caught me on the jaw just below my ear and feeling like it had nearly taken my head off. I fell against the wall but held myself up. I closed my eyes. His fist lashed out and smashed my cheek. I could taste blood in my mouth for the second time this night. Trying to stay up I opened my eyes just in time to see the man draw his arm and loose a vicious backhanded slap that snapped my head to the side. The pain cleared the gathering mist and I saw him coming for me again, hands grasping for my throat.
My attacker stepped close and reached for me and I spun. Bringing the knife up as I turned. The blade slid easily between his ribs and blood spurted with a bubbling hiss as the pierced lung deflated. The rider stared at me dumbly, his hands fumbling at his side.
“Stay back!” I spat through bleeding lips. “Come again and I will kill you.”
“It will not do you any good, my friend is dead. They will find it,” the man wheezed, his hand pressed to his side. “They will find you for my death as well!”
Startled at these words my grip tightened around the dagger. “We will wait and see.”
“They will find me…and send someone after you,”
“Let them.” I retorted, I was scared, but I wouldn’t let him see that.
“Give me the knife and I will see that you are not harmed.”
“Don’t give me that SHIT!” I snapped, and winced at the pain the words cost me.
The man grimaced and pressed his hand to his side. Blood streamed from the wound, and in the silvery light, I could see that his face had gone the colour of ivory. He swayed on his feet. “Give me that knife.” He held out his hand and stepped toward me unsteadily.
“Stay back!” I hissed.
The guy lurched forward; his knees crashed down on the soaked ground. His eyes rolled up into his skull, he toppled onto his side and lay still. I stared at him for a moment and then, cautiously, crept to him. I pressed my fingertips to the side of his neck and felt the flutter of a week pulse. I heard a shout from behind and, with my hands on my knees, I straightened myself, feeling hot knives ripping along my spine. The pain was making me groggy, but I gulped air to keep my head clear and moved to the ground. This pain was nothing very new from working in a bar…it would pass soon…hopefully. Five men had appeared and were running up the rise toward me.
I sighed. I could not fight another man, let alone five. I turned, and picked up the dagger. Twisted again to look at the advancing me and started to run again but I was too tired, gasping for breath I new I was slowing down. I could do nothing but try and fight them off so I raised the knife. The closest man’s foot lashed out, and the knife went spinning from my grasp. I yelped with the sudden impact on icy knuckles.
An instant later, my arms were jerked over my head and I was dragged across the mud-covered ground.
I barely gained my feet and balance, stepped to the side and striked at my assailant’s knee. A satisfying crack as the man’s leg buckled and he fell, yelling to his comrades, but I had already leaped away and had four strides on them before they knew what had happened. Ignoring the pain, I fled around the corner. As I reached the corner, one of my pursuers caught up with me, seizing my arm and spinning me around. Everything I did was instinct, happening without thought, I pulled my hands back, and drawing him toward me and at the same time raised my knee sharply. The man gasped and crumpled to the ground, clutching his groin and rolling in agony. The next one to reach me was more wary. I did not dare look behind me. I just spun and went on running. I suddenly felt a hand on me back. Another guy jerked me around and I was facing the man the others coming in steadily. Before I could react, I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen. He grinned hastily and kicked me causing me to fall on my face.
“Damn bitch.” Cried the man. He reached for me. I soon found myself being lifted slightly. The man glared into my eyes and spat at me. I next felt his fist. My lip re-split under the pressure and blood spewed out more than before. I fell back on my side. Trying to reach for his dagger but the effort was futile. I was kicked again, the force sent me back. I was nearly lifeless and felt myself slipping away, but I didn’t really care.
I prepared myself for the next and probably the last blow but I did not feel it. Instead, a high-pitched scream echoed in the pouring rain. I wearily opened my eyes and looked about the find the man dead on the ground, throat slit. Again I heard more yells, punches were connecting between someone…were they fighting amongst themselves…? After a few more silent moments, I heard footsteps. Before I could make out who was coming, I rolled over onto my back, unconscious.


*****

This is only part one. See my portfolio for part 2.