Mace Street (v. 2.2), in its current revised entirety
As per request... [Thanks to Mnemoscat, KingMob13, and Josabry.] Any further crit is seriously welcome, prior to publication. (Trust me - you can't possibly get any more brutal than 'Cat, Jo, or KingMob...)
PROLOGUE
She gazed out across the yard, awaiting her adversary, but her adversary had not returned.
It had been weeks. That thing - that filthy, uncouth creature - was with child; or, more accurately, with children.
Her heart seethed and her stomach roiled. Why this undeserving monstrosity and not her? She was overcome with blinding, blistering hatred and rage.
And jealousy. Envy. It was that feeling which filled her with the most rancor. No sacrifice was worth any of this - this gnawing emptiness.
For the first time she could remember, she felt old.
* * * * *
“Remember your place, Rat,” the Calico said sternly. “You forget that this is my domain; all that I see is mine.”
“All that we see inside, that is,” Shell replied sharply.
The Calico smiled slowly. “Yes, that's true. Everything. Including your children.”
Shell struggled to retain her dignity; she was convinced that she could hear them inside. Playing? Were they playing? Laughing? Were they happy? Even without her?
“It's been a month, and nothing's changed. You'll never be a mother to them; they'll never accept you.”
The Calico scoffed. “I never wanted to be mother to those ... things.”
“Then why keep them?” she shrieked, although she already knew the response. "They're nothing to you except trouble -"
“They are payment in full, for my allowing you to steal from my lands; to fill your belly with scraps from my own table.”
“Your own table?!” Shell's golden eyes blazed with rage. “Know this, Your Grace. These lands were mine long before they were yours.”
“You scavenged, you foraged, you starved before me. I brought prosperity and security to the Land, made it my domain, and so shall it be: prosperous, secure, and mine." Her back straightened as she cleared her throat. "Winter is upon us, Lady Shell, and it is far too late to regret what you have done.”
The Calico left before Shell could even spit out a retort. As the door slammed and the light faded from within, Shell cast a glance at the shadow nearby - always peripherally close, always just beyond her touch - and continued down the alley.
* * * * *
They lay together in a tangled heap: sharp-tongued Lyn and dark-eyed Jon. The Calico watched, keeping her distance, refusing to admit that those things had begun to touch her heart. Those squeaky little voices they had - almost endearing, yet so annoying! And that rough-and-tumble activity they called play - they'd upset so many things within her formerly neatly-kept abode, her head hurt just thinking of re-organizing. They had all her servants on their toes, barely keeping up with their waves of frenzy and frolic.
The children were no end of trouble and irritation, but there was something about them that tempered her exasperation. Even after several weeks in her keeping, they were still untamed... Free.
She was startled to realize that, in the darkness of the room, in the darkness of Jon's face, he was watching her just as intently.
“They were out there, weren't they?” he asked softly.
“She was, at least,” the Calico said tersely.
Lyn stretched, yawned. “Mother?”
The Calico stiffened. The word - the name - gnawed at her. “Yes.”
Mercifully, Lyn was asleep again before she even heard. But her twin was not.
“Should we call you that now?”
“No,” she snapped. “Never.” Compelled by his dark gaze to continue, she forced herself to keep any shred of warmth from her voice. “I am the sole ruler over this entire domain, my word is law, and my will be done. You are foundlings under my protection; nothing more. Here, you are at my mercy; your lives are subject to my whims, and mine alone. And as my station demands, you will address me as Your Eminence, or at the very least, Milady.”
“As you wish.” His eyes closed. “Milady.”
* * * * *
As she walked through the empty hall, the Calico's thoughts returned to her first encounter with them, over a month ago.
“Why did you bring us here, if you hate our mother so?” Lyn had asked her, as she lounged in the sun on that cool afternoon.
The Calico had sat them both down and patiently explained to them in detail the arrangement to which both sides - Shell included - had agreed. For the Outsides, it was an act of desperation, a mother's sacrifice to save her people from starvation over the long winter. To the Outsides went the rights to hunt in the Empress' domain as well as a portion of food from her own table; to the Empress went the children.
She continued at length about what had gone on before, from the lean years before her reign to the rebirth of the land since. She left out most of what she'd expected them to already know: the mistrust between Insides and Outsides - begrudging respect at best, blatant animosity at worst.
The twins listened attentively, politely, as their mother had instructed them; they asked no questions and made no comments. But at the end, as they were led to their quarters, Lyn turned and shrieked defiantly, “It's all so stupid!!”
Later that night the Calico had heard one or both of them crying.
* * * * *
Back in the semi-darkness of her shelter, Shell brooded. It was just about twilight; almost time to find some food. She'd heard the wind pick up, and on it she noted the stench of blood. Palpable; a reek she could taste.
She was sure he was out there, him and his fickle fury. When he first heard of the arrangement, he howled and raged, he fell into a black silence for hours on end, he lay open to the elements - a freezing rain for two straight days - he starved, drinking nothing but filth. He killed; he wept.
And when the day of the arrangement came, he wasn't there. They found him days later washed up against a storm drain, barely alive.
He was too stupid to die; or too stubborn; deemed by many - herself included - too crazy to live. But there was just enough of something about him - too something - to make him respected by all others. And loved by her.
“Lop's dead.”
Tab's voice made her start. His hugeness and his warmth, like his voice, filled the room. He sat down next to her.
“Agents of the Empress. Ran him down. Crushed him beneath.”
She shuddered. “He die quick?”
“No.”
“Clean?”
“No.” He shifted his bulk to get more comfortable. “Not much left at least. Rats and crows saw to that.”
Another reason to hate her, as if they needed one more. Not only had the Calico robbed them all of what was rightfully theirs, now she'd killed one of their own. One of his own. There was no denying that awkward little thing was one of his. They had the same eyes, coloration, gait, mannerisms - down to the way they snarled. She almost liked the little urchin for that. Almost. She couldn't entirely forget that Filthy Lop was his, but not hers.
Not like Lyn and Jon.
“Gray'll want reparations at the very least.” Tab scowled. “Blood, more likely.”
“Whose? Hers?” she spat.
Tab cowered from Shell, who was half his size, if not less. He sat in uncomfortable silence until she nudged him apologetically.
“Maybe, umm,” he ventured cautiously, “it was just an accident. Maybe?”
She looked at him levelly. “Since when has she ever done anything accidental? Everything about her is so ... so deliberate. Precise.” Her eyes flashed. “Calculated.”
“Come on now, Shell. I think you're thinking too much - like you're out for blood yourself.”
“Excuse me?” She faced him head on. “Why shouldn't I be? Me of all people!! It's not like you don't hate her, too.”
He summoned his last drop of courage to look her in the eye. “I hate the Empress, yes... But only for what she's done to us that we know.”
Tab was one of the few among them who could truly understand both sides. He himself was once an Inside, until the day he was driven from his own domain - forced to forage and beg, steal and occasionally starve. It was Shell who took him in, spoke on his behalf before the others, helped him carve a niche of his own among the legion of Outsides who had once hated him and all he stood for. He had proven his worth countless times since: protecting Shell's own person, aiding the weaker ones as he had once been aided, defending their territory against base animals large and small, even facing down the Empress' slaves. Indeed, he was one of the few among them who didn't fear her slaves - a lifetime ago, he had some of his own.
Which was why he hoped Shell herself wouldn't call for blood. She was his Queen, and he would die for her; he had to obey.
A ragged roar jolted both of them - fury, rage, grief.
Shell looked down grimly. “Gray knows.”
* * * * *
“Jon, wake up. I heard something. There's something out there.”
“There's lots of things out there. Which thing was it?”
“Maybe a monster.”
“Yes, but which monster?”
She bit him.
He opened one dark eye to glare at her. “Do you want her to come back in here? You know, she's the biggest monster we have to worry about.”
Floorboards creaked in the hall; they could sense her presence. They could hear her heavy tread approaching. Faster now. Heavy still, but not without grace.
“Now you've done it,” he groaned.
The door creaked open, and the Calico peered inside. She searched the darkest corners first, then the window; the twins were last of all - the least of her worries, it seemed. Lyn pretended to sleep; Jon did no such thing.
“You're supposed to be asleep,” the Calico said in a very stern whisper.
“Can't,” Jon said simply. “Noise outside.”
“What goes on outside is no longer your concern. You're an Inside now; never forget that.” Then, more softly, “Nothing out there for you to fear; not while you're with me in here.”
“That rhymes,” Lyn murmured in her half-sleep. “That's funny.”
The Calico put on her most offended look as she promptly left the room. Lyn giggled; Jon dozed.
* * * * *
She washed and dined alone, as she had for as long as she could remember. But for the first time ever, she had trouble sleeping alone. How could she, when she knew they were awake? Awake and, probably, missing their old life.
Ludicrous, she told herself. Why would they possibly want to return to the Outside life, with all its savagery and squalor? The filth and stink of the alley (she had demanded that the twins be washed thoroughly before they even set foot in her presence) and the insecurity of life! Surely they don't miss the possibility of eating today, the possibility of having somewhere warm and dry to sleep tonight (weather permitting, of course), the possibility of surviving until tomorrow.
And all those animals out there...
She buried her body deeper under her blanket, acting very much the child herself. Very undignified, but comforting for that very brief moment. She thought she heard it again, that horrible screaming, that wrathful roar. It chilled her, the mere thought of it, even through the stifling warmth of her bedding. There was something primal to it that scared her. Something she was neither willing nor able to revisit - at least not yet. Thinking too deeply about it would plunge her into a morass of memories and nightmares...
She poked her face out from underneath for some air; the room was a little too warm. Suffocating, but her core was ice. Berating herself for being so immature, she slipped out from her bed, somewhat ashamed. Hiding under my own blanket, in my own chambers, inside my own fortress, within my own domain. Nonsense!! I am neither a hypocrite nor a coward - I assured the dark-eyed one (Jon, his name is Jon) that no harm shall come to him from anywhere within my realm - so why should I be afraid?
She held her head high against the shadows as she stalked down the darkened hallway. I am Kastramantha Proudstep Tigerling, Lady of the Realm, Empress of Everything, and I fear nothing.
“You're talking to yourself.”
The Calico let out a startled shriek and whirled around gracefully. She didn't need to pretend to be offended this time.
“How dare you sneak up on me like a common thief!!” she flared. “How did you get out?”
Jon looked over his shoulder. “You left our door open... Milady.”
“Yes. Well.” She fumed briefly. “I suppose you're hungry.”
“No.”
“So the late snack I had my servants lay out for you was enough.”
“Wasn't hungry then, either. Lyn had it all herself.”
“Ah. Yes, well.” Her back straightened. She towered over him. “And must I remind you yet again to address me -”
“Apologies, Milady.” His eyes, however, didn't lower in respect.
That somehow stirred her to anger. “What do you want then, Ratling?”
A pause. “Nothing, I suppose... Milady.”
“Then I suppose you'd best return to your chambers, hadn't you?”
“I suppose so, if that's what you think best.” He turned away. “Milady.”
“Don't you dare turn your back to me, Ratling!!” she roared, forcefully spinning him around to face her. “Your insolence sickens me; shall I have my servants beat it out of you?”
He looked up at her, dark eyes unblinking, unwavering. “Why don't you do it yourself... Milady?”
She raised a heavy hand; he braced for the slap - or worse. But it never landed.
A scream from the twins' room sent them both bolting down the hall. As he ran, he was tangentially aware that she kept pace with him effortlessly. He knew her broad frame - lush and softened from what must have been years of decadence - belied her graceful manner and stride, but he didn't know her reflexes were still so sharp...
Lyn sat up rigidly in bed, wide eyes fixed at the window. Jon went to her immediately, the Calico to the window just as quickly.
“It's out there,” Lyn said breathlessly. “The monster. I saw it.”
“Nonsense, child,” the Calico said, trying to sound calm. “As I said, I won't allow anything to harm you here.”
“What if it's not a monster?” Jon said slowly, watching the Calico's reaction.
“What else can it possibly be?” Lyn insisted. Before she even realized it, she blurted, “Mother wouldn't dare...”
“No... Not Mother.”
* * * * *
They stayed in her own chambers for the rest of the night. The Calico roused her servants to prepare food for her and her charges, regardless of the late hour. She plied them with an impressive array of confections - the choicest selections from her expansive reserves. Jon picked and nibbled; Lyn ate herself into a stupor, matching the Calico bite for bite, although significantly messier.
It was the most personable they'd ever seen her. Initially Jon suspected the chatter was partly to calm herself down, as she cushioned herself with finery and decadence, but it soon melted into genuine conversation. They - that is, Lyn and the Calico - rambled on fluidly, from initial pleasantries to downright inanities. (They actually got into a serious, detailed discussion about leftover chicken! White meat or dark? Cold or re-heated? Or was room-temperature really the best way to have it?) Jon observed, as he always did, with growing fascination. It relaxed him somewhat - albeit aided by all the wine. (Chilled sharp white with the room-temperature chicken; a nice rich red with the warmed roast beef; port with the ham, riesling with the cheese.) Of course, the twins never had wine with anything, so naturally everything tasted good with everything else.
To his surprise, she even invited serious topics, answering them honestly, openly, with very little sign of her haughty hubris. She even sat on the floor with them when they talked, at their level rather than towering above them as she usually did.
“If we're your hostages, why are you being so nice to us all of a sudden?”
“I never said you were my hostages, child. You are under my protection and supervision; my charges - or wards, if you will.”
“Even though you hate Mother.”
Not even a pause; just a nod. “Even though.You see, little one, there are rules that still need to be followed. Protocol and all that. You and your brother will learn all these in time.” A chuckle. “Let's hope you learn them quickly and learn them well.”
“Mother never mentioned -”
“Well, some of us fail to teach the next generation properly, is all. It's enough for them to know the rules exist and must be followed. And those that fail to learn the right way, learn the hard way.” She reclined luxuriantly, her eyes glittering. “Tragic, actually.”
“Blah, blah, blah...” Lyn wrinkled her nose. “That's really stupid. Why have them in the first place, if not everybody knows them all the way?”
She sat up immediately, locking Lyn in her green-eyed gaze. “It's what keeps us from being animals. All of us. Including your mother's people. The rabble...” She supressed a shudder as she glanced out the window for a very long while; she seemed intent on searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find. “Surely we wouldn't be masters of all we survey if we devolved into base animals, would we?”
But Lyn was already asleep, sprawled across Jon. With some difficulty, he nudged her off; she didn't even twitch. He regarded the Calico cautiously, slowly dabbing the remnants of riesling from his mouth. They finished the meal in a silent impasse.
“We're not rabble,” Jon said as he half-carried, half-dragged his sister to bed.
The Calico was already under her covers. “Not anymore, little one.”
* * * * *
It was raining heavily by the time he returned to the shelter after burying the remains of his son.
It was late; the shelter was full. Those few who were still awake moved groggily to accommodate him. He scanned the darkness halfheartedly, hoping Shell hadn't stayed up waiting - though he knew she probably had.
She was dozing next to Tab, dwarfed by his mammoth form. Tab curled a huge arm around her as she shivered, sneezed, but didn't wake. Their breathing was in unison. Tab was her protector; her shelter, he reminded himself harshly; he didn't even have the strength to snarl. It would be best to leave it be, at least for tonight.
He shook his head grimly and turned his back to the sleeping forms, shutting out all the sad, worried eyes.
“Gray.”
He stiffened, turned.
Shell extricated herself from Tab and padded cautiously to him. She was damp, he noticed; had she been out looking for him?
“Go back to sleep,” he said numbly. “I've still got things to do...”
“Why'd you come back?” She cocked her head. “Hungry? I saved something -”
“No.”
“Come in and rest, then. There's enough room -”
“No,” he said more firmly. He looked around, embarrassed, wishing his voice hadn't been quite that loud. His voice lowered to an angry hiss. “And stop looking at me like that, damn it.”
“Like what?”
“Like our -” His shout strangled in his throat. “Like Jon did.”
She nudged him gently. “Our son. Mine and yours.”
“I don't have sons,” he said harshly. “Lop's dead and Jon's hers - just like our daughter. We don't have anything that she hasn't taken away.”
Her eyes lowered in exhaustion. “I'm going back to bed. We can have a more civilized conversation in the morning, when there's fewer people trying to sleep.” She turned her back to him. “And when you're less... well... the way you are now.”
“Damn you!!” he roared. “My son is dead!!”
It took her last shred of self-control not to turn around. “Our children live, Gray.”
“What children?”
She cried softly as he stalked back into the storm.
* * * * *
He sought comfort from the queen of nothing.
Rags o' the Ashes was what they called her, and it didn't take long for her to start answering to it. After all, it wasn't out of spite; it was what she'd become. The loss of her domain had shattered her sanity, and the tedium of her continued existence - owing much to Gray's sole intervention - did little to restore it. She rarely left the overgrown lot and the scorched shell of her formerly splendid stronghold; indeed she had become part of the wasteland herself, scarred and broken from the same disaster that had claimed her realm.
The few joys and comforts she had either spoiled, withered, or took their terrible toll as time relentlessly marched on. The remnants of her dwelling (since the cataclysm, she never once called it a “home”) were crumbling away, eroding with each storm or snowfall. The colony of vermin sustaining her was extinguished by a toxin; even death mocked her then, as she writhed and spasmed and frothed from a bellyful of poisoned meat. She waited for two days and three nights in exquisite agony for the release that never came.
Most cruel of all, though, was when she had discovered she was expectant. The anticipation of children had restored much of her health: body, mind, and even soul. She glowed. Gray visited her daily, with offerings ranging from scraps of food he'd filched to entire feasts he'd proudly “liberated”. She grew strong and beautiful and proud - a near perfect replica of her former self. She even answered to her old name; she felt worthy of it once more. And for the first time in ages she entertained visitors, including Shell herself on occasion. Old grudges and mistrust were set aside at least for a while, replaced by merriment, celebration, and most of all hope...
All but one of her babies were either stillborn or dead by dawn.
Now even that one was gone.
“Let me in, Rags.”
Her mismatched eyes regarded him balefully. “Not you. Not tonight. Leave me.”
“The storm's getting worse.”
“You're wet anyway; go drown yourself.”
“Regina.”
Quivering, she reached out and caressed his face, then raked her filthy nails across his cheek. “Get out of my sight. Your face is his face. Your eyes are his eyes. You make me sick.”
“You're sick anyway. Let me in.”
A long pause. A choking rattle: a growl? A laugh? “Let the storm rage and tear everything down then; kill us both.”
He lay down next to her. She kissed away his blood and tears. Her mismatched eyes held the hint of a glitter. They came together as the ruins collapsed around them.
* * * * *
“What in the world is all that noise?” Lyn wailed, jolted awake by not only the commotion but the blinding daylight screaming through the window.
“Nothing that should concern you, child,” the Calico said firmly, peering warily outside. “Something must have happened in the wasteland.”
Lyn shivered; she and Jon had been forbidden to go anywhere near it. Any mention of the wasteland was sparse and sporadic, always spoken in cautious whispers. It was said that the place had once been a lush field with a glorious castle overlooking it; there was also talk of a beautiful princess - but that was long ago.
Some say it was destroyed because of the princess' pride, flaunting her disregard of the code - the very laws of their existence. Only ruins remained. Nothing grew there anymore, and indescribable, unnameable horrors roamed the blasted, cursed land. Wide-eyed and breathless (and later sleepless), Lyn and Jon even listened in morbid fascination to tales of the princess' restless ghost...
“Evil consumes itself,” the Calico continued, looming over the twins. “Behold the folly of ignoring our rules; the vanity of thinking one is beyond our laws. Just the mere thought of it: crossing blithely between sides...”
Jon looked at her levelly. “You did... Milady.”
She straightened her back, towering over him, throwing her huge shadow over them both. “Nonsense, Ratling! I did no such thing!”
“You let us Outsides into your house, which you said you weren't supposed to do,” Lyn retorted. “So that means you broke the rules yourself.”
“And you made us cross sides - against our will,” Jon added.
“You crossed sides anyway, the moment you crossed the threshold of my domain, don't you see?” She smiled smugly, gratified by their growing discomfiture. “It didn't matter whether you wanted to or not -”
“But that's not fair!! You lied!!” Lyn shrieked. “You deceived Mother into agreeing to something that she wouldn't possibly agree to -”
“You stole us, basically,” Jon said defiantly. “You cheated Mother out of -”
“Stop it! Both of you!!” the Calico roared. “There were no rules broken, and the Code was obeyed to the letter. Your own mother and I reached an agreement that all sides were happy with. You are my wards - not my trophies, not my plunder, certainly not my children...” She winced at that, softening her voice. “And definitely not my hostages. Is that clear?”
Lyn fumed, glowering.
Jon frowned. “But why?”
“Why what, child?” She sat down heavily next to him.
“Why did you take us in?”
She heaved a deep, exasperated sigh. “How many times must we go over this, child? I accepted you into my domain so your mother's people wouldn't starve through the winter, so they wouldn't live in squalor. I granted them some comforts that wouldn't otherwise be theirs. Were it not for my word, I would have driven your mother's people - yes, even Mother herself - from my domain. And was it not I who decreed a Ritual of Giving every seven days, rain or shine? Why, I even sacrificed food from my own table -”
“Ratshit!!” Lyn erupted. “Sacrifice means go without - you go cold, go sleepless, go hungry. You haven't ever gone hungry, have you? Have you, you big fat monster!!”
The Calico's slap sent her sprawling. “I've sacrificed more than you know, you ungrateful little...”
She was on her feet and out the door before the twins could see her tears.
* * * * *
“It's no use, Mistress,” Tab said softly. “We don't even know if the Rags o' the Ashes still exists, let alone if she was even here tonight.” He bit his lip. “Or if anyone else was, for that matter.”
“No; there's got to be something,” Shell insisted, diving back into the debris. “I've got to know, damn it.”
“Mistress, it's cold, smells like rain - or worse, sleet...” He glanced around helplessly at the others, who were as exhausted, if not more than he was.
She paused, turned, and looked at all of them. Nine had volunteered to venture into the wasteland with her to search for survivors. It was her duty, she reminded them firmly, to look after all her people - no exceptions. Tab of course was the first to stand with her, but now, after spending the bleak morning sifting through the tainted wreckage, even his dedication started to wane. But not his devotion, though - his loyalty to her. He would work until he dropped, if she wished it.
She lowered her eyes, then nodded grimly. “Lead them back, Tab, I'll stay.”
He straightened his back. “I'll leave when you do, Mistress.”
She sighed heavily. “Very well.”
Shell dismissed the others and ordered Tab to just sit and rest, to watch over her as she continued her search. She made several more desperate trips into what was left of the shelter, squeezing between fallen beams and wriggling through patches of freezing filth, until she staggered out retching. Tab was at her side immediately, effortlessly hauling her across the street. She was trembling, he noticed, as she collapsed in a fit of dry heaves.
“It's nothing,” she insisted, her throat raw. “A cold; the weather; nothing more.”
“This whole place is poison, Shell. Nothing could have possibly lived here.” He snorted, stifling his own growing wave of nausea. “Nothing that wanted to go on living, leastways.”
She struggled to her feet. “But there was something in there - something I saw -”
He took her firmly by the shoulders and led her home. “Well, that something can wait. If it's there, it'll stay there till you're well again. Now please, Shell...”
“There were ... images ... of the domain. Not the wasteland, but the Empress' own lands, Tab. A way inside, underground, like the ruins... And I know Gray's been there. I just know... There's something real wrong... Like he's going to -”
She wilted in his strong arms as the exhaustion and delirium - The sickness? The toxin? The curse of the wasteland? - conquered her.
* * * * *
Her midday nap gave her no comfort. Guilt from striking the girl gnawed at her insides; every time she closed her eyes the nightmare was there: the girl's defiant eyes, the girl's shrieking voice, the abrupt halt, the jarring impact of the blow against her young, angry face... The fall.
Usurper.
Her eyes flew open at the sound of that horrible voice. Old, vicious, grating, venomous. The stuff of nightmare. No, not even that. It was the Nightmare.
She practically flew from her bed as the door opened. Her servants paused in surprise at their lady's demeanor - wild-eyed, disheveled, frightened - but then continued their duties, making her bed, laying out her noon meal. She gave orders to keep the children away, to serve them separately; she wanted solitude. They complied reticently, reminding her in passing that she was receiving a visitor in the late afternoon and that the Ritual of Giving was tonight.
The thought of good company should have relaxed her, but it didn't. Instead it filled her with a slow dread. What would her guest think of them? These little creatures, these wild things? What would he think of her now, now that she was surrounded - infested - with them? Surely he wouldn't judge her based on their behavior, their mere presence. Surely their loud, uncouth demeanor wouldn't reflect negatively on her...
Nonsense!! She was the Lady of the Realm - her word was law, her will be done. Her deeds were above question, her actions beyond reproach. What her guest thought of her wards wouldn't matter in the least. After all, the children had as much right to be in her stronghold as her distinguished guest himself: they were all nobility now, and they were all there at her pleasure. And if her guest disagreed...
Ratshit.
* * * * *
The Empress had provided a splendid feast for her guest, a noble from another realm. The Exile, as he was called, was fat and jovial, lively and boisterous - every bit as spoiled as the Calico herself. Scarred and partially blinded from his time Outside, he kept his one good eye fixed on the twins with a contemptuous glare.
Jon kept Lyn from venturing too closely to them, but even he couldn't resist watching the feast unfold. The spread was just as elaborate and expansive as the banquet she'd laid out for them the night before. Meat, drink, confections, delicacies, everything.
It amused him somewhat that her distinguished visitor was dining on their leavings.
It further pleased him that he and Lyn had been treated as distinguished guests themselves. He watched the Empress with genuine fascination - admiration, even - as she maneuvered expertly through what was truly her element. The festivity, the decadence, the regalia, all of it was hers: it was more than playing the hostess and enjoying it. It was what she was.
And last night, the Calico shared it with them.
However, it was different now. He could feel their eyes upon them, judging them. Looking down their noses at them. The Empress most of all, it seemed; she was doing most of the talking, certainly none of the listening.
Instead, Jon listened. Eyes lowered, he kept one ear to the conversation as he continued to play Chase Me, Chase You with his twin.
“They're just unused to it all, Jack. It overwhelms them sometimes. But in time they'll come around, you'll see. Why, just the other day -”
“Oh, please. This is so unlike you, Kas. I've never known you to be the patient one, ever. I mean, sharing your wealth with the unfortunates is one thing - kudos to you for that alone, your little Ritual of Giving - but actually allowing them Inside...”
“Strictly business, Jack. An exchange of commodities, is all."
The Exile chortled. "What value do you place on this lot?? They're worthless - every last one of them. Why, my slaves ran one of them down - splat!! - just yesterday, while running my errands... Did it matter? No! Did anyone care? No!! The rabble will just keep on breeding, just like the rest of the vermin of the streets..." His cold green eye glinted as he leaned forward. "The one thing I regret about running down that filthy little wretch is that it wasn't the father..."
"Keep your Outside vendettas Outside, Jack, and spare me details of your conquests and dalliances as well... Honestly, why you insist on returning to the place of your exile is beyond me!!" The Calico supressed a shudder as she sat up defiantly. "As I was saying, the rabble gets table scraps and hunting rights; I get loyal minions and pest control.”
“Hah!! They're little more than pests themselves. Just look at them. More like the Outsides get the feast, and you get the fleas...” His jovial demeanor immediately vanished, though, replaced by a glowering scowl. “Lower your eyes when you face me, Rat,” he hissed at Lyn.
“I wasn't even looking at you!!” Lyn protested.
“Kas, I will not suffer such insolence from vermin; I don't care what that thing is to you!!”
“What did you call me?!!” Lyn shrieked. "Listen, you one-eyed -"
“Hold your tongue, child, this instant,” the Calico demanded. "How dare you speak to -"
Hazel eyes flashing dangerously, Lyn strode up and slapped her.
The rest was a blur. Plates were upset, drinks were spilled. Jon lunged to interpose himself between Lyn and the Calico. He was slammed to the floor, stunned by the force of the Exile's slap. Lyn shrieked in rage. Another stinging blow caught him across the face. He tasted his own blood. His ears rang with the Exile's booming laughter.
“Out of my sight!! Now!!” the Calico roared as her servants thundered in to break up the fracas.
Jon blacked out before he fully realized she wasn't talking about them.
* * * * *
It was already dusk by the time she awoke. She still felt sick, weakened by the foray into the wasteland. Her stomach heaved; her head spun. Shards of thought stabbed at her mind; never a full memory, her mind's eye was a blur.
“Tab?”
“No.” The voice was hollow, barely above a whisper.
She sat up abruptly. Her eyes flew open, blearily scanning the semi-darkness. It made her dizzy. She clamped her eyes shut again. She lay back down, engulfed by nausea; the toxin still clung to her. She rolled over onto her side and retched.
“Blood tonight... Revenge... As the flames rise... My will be done...”
Suddenly it all came together in a fleeting flash of clarity: the curse of the wateland, the images from the ruins, the Empress' lands, a way beneath the stronghold...
“Gray,” she rasped weakly, struggling to sit up again. “Don't do this... Our children -”
But the presence was gone; the noxious vapors dissipated. Her mind cleared and she shouted for Tab. He and others were at her side instantly. They scanned the shelter and secured it, posting watches at all entrances, no matter how small. Tab ordered even more to check outside, in a desperate effort to find the source of Shell's alarm.
Shell strained to have it make sense, but even that took too much effort. All she could get out was little more than gibberish. She pleaded with them to find Gray, to stop him - but from what she couldn't say. She told them of danger, even going so far as insisting she see the Empress to warn her - but of what she couldn't say. They tried in vain to follow her frenzied ramblings, but in the end they dismissed them all - from the curse to the castle - as fever dreams.
“You can tell it to her yourself at the Giving,” Tab said tiredly. “Or at least try to. It's up to her if she decides to listen, though.”
“I will; she must.” She lay back down and closed her eyes. “Would you tell me when it starts?”
He sniffed. “One of her servants is already lighting the fires. It should be soon.”
“Send someone there now; and if they see Gray -” She paused, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Damn it, it's not like he'll listen...”
* * * * *
Shell waited in the shadows as she watched her people feast. Tab and others dutifully brought her some of the offerings, which she sampled politely, but the food tasted of ash. She lounged beneath a tree and kept an eye to the open door. Light and warmth from inside the stronghold poured forth, bathing the revelers as they enjoyed their meat and drink, but that was all. The barrier was still up: the cold, unforgiving screen keeping them all outside. Shell shifted uneasily; the fires were out, but the Calico still didn't show.
Instead, it was Lyn.
“Mother!!” she cried.
Shell's heart froze. She bolted to the door. The merriment stopped. They all turned to look at the child who had once been one of their own...
“Lyn...” Shell murmured, pressing her hands desperately against the screen. “Dearest -” Her voice ended in a strangled gasp as she saw her son.
“Hi,” Jon said softly, avoiding her tortured gaze.
“What's she done to you?!! What happened to your face?!!”
They all started to gather, grimly approaching the door, rallying behind their Lady. Jon felt their eyes on him. His mother's rage rang in his head. His bruised face throbbed. He could hear the crowd outside start to stir with a low, unified growl...
Jon wept silently as he turned and walked deeper into the stronghold.
“Jon!!” Shell screamed, her heart breaking.
“Mother, it wasn't her,” Lyn pleaded. “It was that horrible person, that Inside she has as her guest -”
Instantly Lyn was scooped up by one of the Empress' guards and whisked away, still shrieking and thrashing.
“I'll kill you!!” Shell roared, throwing her small, thin body against the barrier. “Face me, you monster!! You coward!! You animal!!!”
The Empress thundered forward with her vanguard. Many of the Outsides scattered; only a few stayed at Shell's side.
“Control yourself,” the Calico said calmly.
Shell fell back, snarling. “Come out from behind your slaves and your shields and face me.”
“There is nothing I would enjoy more than putting you in your place, Rat,” she sighed. “But, alas, the girl is right; your fight is not with me. At least, not tonight.” She busied herself with cleaning beneath her nails. “The one that harmed my ward has been dealt with. He has been sent away; I had him barred from my domain indefinitely.”
“Give me a name, then. It's the least you can do.”
“I do not have to do a single thing.” A chuckle rose from the Calico's throat. “Inside affairs do not concern you.”
“Who?” she demanded. “The harm done to my son needs to be answered with more than just words.”
“The harm done to my ward was met with my decree. Your status as his mother has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“A status you'll never have!!” she flared, advancing to the door.
“One I shall never want -”
“Because you can't ever be a mother to anything, can you?!!”
Casting off any semblance of propriety, the Calico charged the barrier, ramming against it with her full weight. She shouted and screamed to be let loose, to end this once and for all. Shell and the remaining Outsides attacked, but the barrier still held. The royal vanguard firmly restrained the Calico and led her away.
Shell was the last to withdraw after the door was slammed shut and barred. She looked down at her bloody hands, where she'd struck and raked the screen. She was still shaking with fury. Inside, she could still hear the Calico's own frenzy.
“Behold the Empress,” Shell sneered, anger drying her tears as she led the remnants of her people away. “Every bit the animal she says I am.”
They followed her in silence, past the broken basement window.
* * * * *
“Jon, come out of there.” Lyn said, peering into the shadows.
“Go away.”
“Come on, it's dark and filthy and chilly and creepy down there. And there's spiders...”
“Suits me just fine!!”
Lyn warily descended the stairs into the dankness. Her feet prickled at the cold concrete. She let out an eek! or an eww! with every other step, but she trudged onward, searching every last nook for her twin.
She found him sulking inside a cardboard box. Her heart ached; he'd been crying. He glared at her.
“She's still tantruming up there, like an I-dunno-what.” Lyn forced a laugh.
“You'd think she'd taken on every last Outside singlehandedly,” he snorted.
“She did get banged up a little - but that was from smacking into the barrier.”
They both laughed at that.
“You'd think she'd knock the whole castle down, if she tried hard enough, with her body,” Lyn sighed, puffing out her cheeks.
“Nah... Then what would she have to hold over Mother? What would keep us inside and Mother outside?”
“Her decree!!”
Jon chuckled. “It's all ratshit, after all, isn't it?”
“What is?”
“Insides and Outsides. All the differences they say there are. I mean, there really isn't a difference, is there? At least there shouldn't be, however -”
“Of course there is! There's a big difference between Mother and her.”
His dark eyes met hers. “And what about us? What are we, Lyn?”
She bit her lip, straining for an answer.
“They didn't know us, Lyn. Not a single one of them recognized you. And it wasn't until Mother said anything that they even moved at all -”
“Don't say that!! Of course they knew us! Why else would they -”
“They didn't do a single damn thing until Mother came forward. They were all following those damn rules and regulations and protocols and all that stuff the Empress was spouting out.” He was shaking now, on the verge of tears. “All that stuff Mother agreed to on her own...”
“Stop it!! That's our family out there - the people we've grown up with, that we played with, that looked after us - Big Tab and JoJo Goldeneyes and Cookie Weathermay and Lightningfast Mal and Morgan Last-in-Line and Filthy Lop too. They're the only people we ever knew and you're talking like they're strangers!!”
“They're Mother's people, yes. Just that they're no longer ours.” He turned away from her and walked deeper into the darkness before she could see his tears.
Lyn strained her eyes trying to follow him. “And it stinks down here, too,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“So leave, then -”
Jon's voice caught in a strangled cry as he was thrown down onto the concrete. Filthy, ragged nails raked his face and neck. The air burned in his lungs, tainted with a reek of death, decay, poison...
Lyn shrieked and froze in fright, met with cold, mismatched eyes.
* * * * *
The Calico was through the door and down the stairs, charging through the darkness within moments of hearing the girl's scream. She rushed forward and slammed into Jon's assailant with the full weight of her body, sending them both sprawling across the cold floor. The force of her impact sent the intruder into a pile of trash.
“Run, children!!” she ordered, getting to her feet. “Get out of here, now!!”
Lyn seized Jon and tried to drag him to the foot of the stairs. To her disbelief, Jon resisted, willing himself to sit up and watch as the Calico turned to her adversary.
“Leave my wards out of this - face me!!” she said firmly. “I am the Lady of the Realm, and your quarrel is with me.”
A grating rattle - a laugh? - shattered the cold silence as the Rags o' the Ashes emerged from the shadows. “You, Kastramantha, have no right to this domain. You are nothing more than a pretender and a usurper.”
The Calico's breath caught in her throat. “How dare you call me -”
“You can't bear heirs!! The Land shouldn't have been yours!! And once your wards are dead by my hand, the Land will die along with you.” She strode forward, mismatched eyes blazing with malevolent rage. “The Exile was right, Kastramantha... It is you who are the animal that overstepped its bounds. It is you who are the Outside.”
Jon and Lyn stood transfixed, astonished.
“Back upstairs - now!!” the Calico commanded. “Don't listen to a single word -”
“You were an Outside once, just like us,” Jon said softly. “Just like Mother.”
“Every bit the vermin that you are,” Rags o' the Ashes snarled. “My father was the true Lord of this Realm, and I was there the moment he died. He used the last of his strength to throw her down these very stairs - casting her into darkness and filth...” She sneered defiantly. “And he denounced her with his last breath as she stole his kingdom -”
Quivering with fury, the Calico attacked.
* * * * *
Lyn hauled Jon to a corner protectively. Jon swayed to his feet, his dark eyes still fixed on the fight. Rags o' the Ashes - by far the smaller of the two - was frenzied and savage, while the Empress was dexterous, disciplined, and graceful despite her size - but not without a fierceness that can only come from one fighting to protect her own.
A queen defending her property, Jon pondered, or a mother protecting her children?
Within moments the Calico had the intruder's frail body pinned beneath her heavy form; she held her there until there was no fight left in her. The only sound was the adversary's reeking, rasping breaths; the only scent in the cold air was poison.
“Upstairs, I said! Now!!” the Empress screamed, her powerful voice finally cracking.
Lyn tried to get Jon to move, but her heart leapt as she heard the door slam shut and footsteps descend.
A low snarl from the top of the stairs. “Nowhere to run... Milady.”
The Calico's eyes widened as she turned. “Graymalkin...”
“Da!!” Lyn cried happily, hurrying toward him.
“Get behind me, darling,” Gray said firmly. “Pass behind me; there's an open window above that gets you back out into the alley -”
“No...” Rags o' the Ashes gasped weakly, coughing up more blood. “Kill her, Gray, and then kill them. The line of pretenders must end...”
“She's right, Graymalkin,” the Calico said in a low, deadly growl. “You will have to kill me first before you do anything to my wards.”
“Kill them, Gray,” the choking rattle implored. “They are no longer your children. They are her wards - and the line must end... She killed your son - yours and mine, and now you have what I have -” Rags o' the Ashes winced as blood filled her throat. “Nothing.”
“No!!” Jon exploded, advancing slowly. He ignored the stinging cuts and bruises on his face as he cautiously strode to face his father. “There was something I heard from that nobleman, the one called the Exile - it was all his doing!! He sent his slaves on a mission and they ran down an Outside... And he said it was a pity it wasn't the father...”
“Child,” the Calico said firmly, as calmly as she could manage, “we neither reveal nor discuss our affairs to the Outsides, no matter who -”
“You shut up!!” Lyn flared. “You say we're not your children, and we don't want to be your children anyway, so stop calling us that, damn it!!” Her voice rose to a frenzied shriek. “And I'd rather be an Outside and stay an Outside, instead of being what you are!!”
The Calico just stared, genuinely stung.
A strangled gasp broke the silence. Rags o' the Ashes struggled and thrashed, dying in a growing pool of blood.
* * * * *
He emerged from the darkness as Shell wept.
“We have nothing to say to each other,” she said icily, not even bothering to face him.
“As you wish, Milady.” He paused. “I just came to offer my condolences.”
“My affairs are not yours, Exile.”
He bore the name stoically. “I cannot imagine what it's like to lose a child, let alone two -”
She whirled around and slapped him sharply. “That's the only warning you'll get, you bastard. Now get out of my sight, before I give you a scar to match the one Gray gave you.”
He turned slowly and took a step back into the shadows. “That's true - I should give my condolences to Her Grace as well; after all, they were her wards...”
“They ... were?”
Shell sprang, launching her small body against him. She struck at him furiously; she clawed and bit, her face and hands awash in his blood. He fought back as well, throwing her down repeatedly, but she still kept attacking.
“Mother!!”
Her mind spun: her daughter's voice; the broken window... “Lyn, stay back!!”
Shell screamed as her daughter charged the Exile.
* * * * *
The rest was a blur.
Lyn experienced pain, the likes of which she'd never felt before: heavy, jarring blows landing on her face and body. She felt her teeth rattle, her head crack sharply on the pavement, her breath driven from her lungs with the impact. Every last shred of her being, though, willed her to keep fighting. Her tiny hands gouged the Exile's remaining eye. Her tiny nails raked his face and neck. His teeth clamped down on her fingers; she shrieked as her bones crunched; he howled in pain as she managed to rip out a tooth.
His warm blood washed upon her as he tried desperately to throw her off. She could taste the asphalt as they both sprawled into the middle of the street.
Light. Blinding light and a deafening screech...
And then pain. Heavy, crushing pain.
Then darkness.
* * * * *
She was buried with all the honors befitting a Princess of both Realms.
His body was left for the vermin of the alley: the worms, the rats, the crows. The animals.
At dawn, both Sides came together in remembrance. Their voices came together in peace as the rising sun cut through the winter's chill to warm them all.
EPILOGUE
"Are you sure she'll be here?"
The Calico sighed. "Of course, child, why would she not?"
"She's late! What if something happened?"
"Oh, nonsense! Do you think your mother would allow anything to happen? And stop pacing, child!!"
A stir from the shadows. "Jon. His name is Jon... Your Grace."
"Ah, Lady Shell, welcome to the Giving." The Calico coughed slightly. "You are healing well, I see."
"Been a week; I'm fine. Nothing I haven't shrugged off before." Shell paused. "I see you're healing well, too."
The child's voice cut through the tension easily. "I never knew she was as scrappy-tough as you, Mother!! Or wicked-fast, too!!"
"Yes, well." The Calico smiled slowly. "And how are you, little one?"
Jon's dark eyes flashed indignantly. "Lyn. Her name is Lyn... Milady."
The Calico chuckled. "Of course, Jon. How are you feeling, Lyn?"
Lyn giggled, then groaned. "Better. Still sore. But I'm as scrappy-tough as Mother is. You'll see!!" She paused, biting her lip. "Thank you for what you did... Running across the street to save me, that is... And I... ummm... I'm sorry for shouting and calling you all those horrible things. You're not a big fat monster."
"Yes, well..." The Calico snorted, signaling one of her slaves to open the barrier. "I'm not a monster at least."
The twins reunited and joined the others in the yard for the weekly Ritual of Giving.
Shell hid a small smile, then cleared her throat. "Graymalkin regrets that he won't be joining us tonight; he sends his regards, Your Grace."
The Calico raised an eyebrow. "Does he? Does he really?"
Shell smirked. "No; not really. Just his consent... And his blessing. He's in complete agreement with the new arrangement."
"Yes, well... I hope it will be better for everybody this way, including the children."
Shell's golden eyes beamed. "Thank you, Your Grace, for declaring the yard and the basement neutral ground; it'll help them see each other regularly, while adhering to the arrangement."
"Yes: one Inside as my successor, one Outside as yours... Unfortunately it is all I can do, to replace the son Graymalkin lost." Her eyes lowered. "How is he ... if I may inquire?"
"Still in mourning." She shifted uneasily. "Rags - rather, Regina was his ... companion. And the mother to one of his children."
The Calico nodded slowly. "Lady Regina rests in an honored place now; she shall not be forgotten, ever again. For who she was, as well as for what she had done in her final moment..." She snarled slightly. "Jack got what was coming to him; it is truly fitting he met his end by her hand..."
"In the basement she admitted everything: consorting with the Exile, him finding out that Jon and Lyn were Gray's children, how he wanted both our lines to end so he could take control of it all..." She paused, suppressing a shiver. "Just before you both ran out into the street, she asked me to forgive her." Shell murmured. "While you grabbed Lyn, she used the last of her strength to hold the Exile down..."
"She has been forgiven many, many times over... Please, Lady Shell, if Graymalkin does not already know, would you tell him?"
Shell glanced around, searching the darkness. "He does; I'm sure of it, Your Grace."
The Calico's green eyes glittered, as she smiled uneasily. "Kas. My name is Kas."
A shadow stirred nearby: A snarl; a smile?
PROLOGUE
She gazed out across the yard, awaiting her adversary, but her adversary had not returned.
It had been weeks. That thing - that filthy, uncouth creature - was with child; or, more accurately, with children.
Her heart seethed and her stomach roiled. Why this undeserving monstrosity and not her? She was overcome with blinding, blistering hatred and rage.
And jealousy. Envy. It was that feeling which filled her with the most rancor. No sacrifice was worth any of this - this gnawing emptiness.
For the first time she could remember, she felt old.
* * * * *
“Remember your place, Rat,” the Calico said sternly. “You forget that this is my domain; all that I see is mine.”
“All that we see inside, that is,” Shell replied sharply.
The Calico smiled slowly. “Yes, that's true. Everything. Including your children.”
Shell struggled to retain her dignity; she was convinced that she could hear them inside. Playing? Were they playing? Laughing? Were they happy? Even without her?
“It's been a month, and nothing's changed. You'll never be a mother to them; they'll never accept you.”
The Calico scoffed. “I never wanted to be mother to those ... things.”
“Then why keep them?” she shrieked, although she already knew the response. "They're nothing to you except trouble -"
“They are payment in full, for my allowing you to steal from my lands; to fill your belly with scraps from my own table.”
“Your own table?!” Shell's golden eyes blazed with rage. “Know this, Your Grace. These lands were mine long before they were yours.”
“You scavenged, you foraged, you starved before me. I brought prosperity and security to the Land, made it my domain, and so shall it be: prosperous, secure, and mine." Her back straightened as she cleared her throat. "Winter is upon us, Lady Shell, and it is far too late to regret what you have done.”
The Calico left before Shell could even spit out a retort. As the door slammed and the light faded from within, Shell cast a glance at the shadow nearby - always peripherally close, always just beyond her touch - and continued down the alley.
* * * * *
They lay together in a tangled heap: sharp-tongued Lyn and dark-eyed Jon. The Calico watched, keeping her distance, refusing to admit that those things had begun to touch her heart. Those squeaky little voices they had - almost endearing, yet so annoying! And that rough-and-tumble activity they called play - they'd upset so many things within her formerly neatly-kept abode, her head hurt just thinking of re-organizing. They had all her servants on their toes, barely keeping up with their waves of frenzy and frolic.
The children were no end of trouble and irritation, but there was something about them that tempered her exasperation. Even after several weeks in her keeping, they were still untamed... Free.
She was startled to realize that, in the darkness of the room, in the darkness of Jon's face, he was watching her just as intently.
“They were out there, weren't they?” he asked softly.
“She was, at least,” the Calico said tersely.
Lyn stretched, yawned. “Mother?”
The Calico stiffened. The word - the name - gnawed at her. “Yes.”
Mercifully, Lyn was asleep again before she even heard. But her twin was not.
“Should we call you that now?”
“No,” she snapped. “Never.” Compelled by his dark gaze to continue, she forced herself to keep any shred of warmth from her voice. “I am the sole ruler over this entire domain, my word is law, and my will be done. You are foundlings under my protection; nothing more. Here, you are at my mercy; your lives are subject to my whims, and mine alone. And as my station demands, you will address me as Your Eminence, or at the very least, Milady.”
“As you wish.” His eyes closed. “Milady.”
* * * * *
As she walked through the empty hall, the Calico's thoughts returned to her first encounter with them, over a month ago.
“Why did you bring us here, if you hate our mother so?” Lyn had asked her, as she lounged in the sun on that cool afternoon.
The Calico had sat them both down and patiently explained to them in detail the arrangement to which both sides - Shell included - had agreed. For the Outsides, it was an act of desperation, a mother's sacrifice to save her people from starvation over the long winter. To the Outsides went the rights to hunt in the Empress' domain as well as a portion of food from her own table; to the Empress went the children.
She continued at length about what had gone on before, from the lean years before her reign to the rebirth of the land since. She left out most of what she'd expected them to already know: the mistrust between Insides and Outsides - begrudging respect at best, blatant animosity at worst.
The twins listened attentively, politely, as their mother had instructed them; they asked no questions and made no comments. But at the end, as they were led to their quarters, Lyn turned and shrieked defiantly, “It's all so stupid!!”
Later that night the Calico had heard one or both of them crying.
* * * * *
Back in the semi-darkness of her shelter, Shell brooded. It was just about twilight; almost time to find some food. She'd heard the wind pick up, and on it she noted the stench of blood. Palpable; a reek she could taste.
She was sure he was out there, him and his fickle fury. When he first heard of the arrangement, he howled and raged, he fell into a black silence for hours on end, he lay open to the elements - a freezing rain for two straight days - he starved, drinking nothing but filth. He killed; he wept.
And when the day of the arrangement came, he wasn't there. They found him days later washed up against a storm drain, barely alive.
He was too stupid to die; or too stubborn; deemed by many - herself included - too crazy to live. But there was just enough of something about him - too something - to make him respected by all others. And loved by her.
“Lop's dead.”
Tab's voice made her start. His hugeness and his warmth, like his voice, filled the room. He sat down next to her.
“Agents of the Empress. Ran him down. Crushed him beneath.”
She shuddered. “He die quick?”
“No.”
“Clean?”
“No.” He shifted his bulk to get more comfortable. “Not much left at least. Rats and crows saw to that.”
Another reason to hate her, as if they needed one more. Not only had the Calico robbed them all of what was rightfully theirs, now she'd killed one of their own. One of his own. There was no denying that awkward little thing was one of his. They had the same eyes, coloration, gait, mannerisms - down to the way they snarled. She almost liked the little urchin for that. Almost. She couldn't entirely forget that Filthy Lop was his, but not hers.
Not like Lyn and Jon.
“Gray'll want reparations at the very least.” Tab scowled. “Blood, more likely.”
“Whose? Hers?” she spat.
Tab cowered from Shell, who was half his size, if not less. He sat in uncomfortable silence until she nudged him apologetically.
“Maybe, umm,” he ventured cautiously, “it was just an accident. Maybe?”
She looked at him levelly. “Since when has she ever done anything accidental? Everything about her is so ... so deliberate. Precise.” Her eyes flashed. “Calculated.”
“Come on now, Shell. I think you're thinking too much - like you're out for blood yourself.”
“Excuse me?” She faced him head on. “Why shouldn't I be? Me of all people!! It's not like you don't hate her, too.”
He summoned his last drop of courage to look her in the eye. “I hate the Empress, yes... But only for what she's done to us that we know.”
Tab was one of the few among them who could truly understand both sides. He himself was once an Inside, until the day he was driven from his own domain - forced to forage and beg, steal and occasionally starve. It was Shell who took him in, spoke on his behalf before the others, helped him carve a niche of his own among the legion of Outsides who had once hated him and all he stood for. He had proven his worth countless times since: protecting Shell's own person, aiding the weaker ones as he had once been aided, defending their territory against base animals large and small, even facing down the Empress' slaves. Indeed, he was one of the few among them who didn't fear her slaves - a lifetime ago, he had some of his own.
Which was why he hoped Shell herself wouldn't call for blood. She was his Queen, and he would die for her; he had to obey.
A ragged roar jolted both of them - fury, rage, grief.
Shell looked down grimly. “Gray knows.”
* * * * *
“Jon, wake up. I heard something. There's something out there.”
“There's lots of things out there. Which thing was it?”
“Maybe a monster.”
“Yes, but which monster?”
She bit him.
He opened one dark eye to glare at her. “Do you want her to come back in here? You know, she's the biggest monster we have to worry about.”
Floorboards creaked in the hall; they could sense her presence. They could hear her heavy tread approaching. Faster now. Heavy still, but not without grace.
“Now you've done it,” he groaned.
The door creaked open, and the Calico peered inside. She searched the darkest corners first, then the window; the twins were last of all - the least of her worries, it seemed. Lyn pretended to sleep; Jon did no such thing.
“You're supposed to be asleep,” the Calico said in a very stern whisper.
“Can't,” Jon said simply. “Noise outside.”
“What goes on outside is no longer your concern. You're an Inside now; never forget that.” Then, more softly, “Nothing out there for you to fear; not while you're with me in here.”
“That rhymes,” Lyn murmured in her half-sleep. “That's funny.”
The Calico put on her most offended look as she promptly left the room. Lyn giggled; Jon dozed.
* * * * *
She washed and dined alone, as she had for as long as she could remember. But for the first time ever, she had trouble sleeping alone. How could she, when she knew they were awake? Awake and, probably, missing their old life.
Ludicrous, she told herself. Why would they possibly want to return to the Outside life, with all its savagery and squalor? The filth and stink of the alley (she had demanded that the twins be washed thoroughly before they even set foot in her presence) and the insecurity of life! Surely they don't miss the possibility of eating today, the possibility of having somewhere warm and dry to sleep tonight (weather permitting, of course), the possibility of surviving until tomorrow.
And all those animals out there...
She buried her body deeper under her blanket, acting very much the child herself. Very undignified, but comforting for that very brief moment. She thought she heard it again, that horrible screaming, that wrathful roar. It chilled her, the mere thought of it, even through the stifling warmth of her bedding. There was something primal to it that scared her. Something she was neither willing nor able to revisit - at least not yet. Thinking too deeply about it would plunge her into a morass of memories and nightmares...
She poked her face out from underneath for some air; the room was a little too warm. Suffocating, but her core was ice. Berating herself for being so immature, she slipped out from her bed, somewhat ashamed. Hiding under my own blanket, in my own chambers, inside my own fortress, within my own domain. Nonsense!! I am neither a hypocrite nor a coward - I assured the dark-eyed one (Jon, his name is Jon) that no harm shall come to him from anywhere within my realm - so why should I be afraid?
She held her head high against the shadows as she stalked down the darkened hallway. I am Kastramantha Proudstep Tigerling, Lady of the Realm, Empress of Everything, and I fear nothing.
“You're talking to yourself.”
The Calico let out a startled shriek and whirled around gracefully. She didn't need to pretend to be offended this time.
“How dare you sneak up on me like a common thief!!” she flared. “How did you get out?”
Jon looked over his shoulder. “You left our door open... Milady.”
“Yes. Well.” She fumed briefly. “I suppose you're hungry.”
“No.”
“So the late snack I had my servants lay out for you was enough.”
“Wasn't hungry then, either. Lyn had it all herself.”
“Ah. Yes, well.” Her back straightened. She towered over him. “And must I remind you yet again to address me -”
“Apologies, Milady.” His eyes, however, didn't lower in respect.
That somehow stirred her to anger. “What do you want then, Ratling?”
A pause. “Nothing, I suppose... Milady.”
“Then I suppose you'd best return to your chambers, hadn't you?”
“I suppose so, if that's what you think best.” He turned away. “Milady.”
“Don't you dare turn your back to me, Ratling!!” she roared, forcefully spinning him around to face her. “Your insolence sickens me; shall I have my servants beat it out of you?”
He looked up at her, dark eyes unblinking, unwavering. “Why don't you do it yourself... Milady?”
She raised a heavy hand; he braced for the slap - or worse. But it never landed.
A scream from the twins' room sent them both bolting down the hall. As he ran, he was tangentially aware that she kept pace with him effortlessly. He knew her broad frame - lush and softened from what must have been years of decadence - belied her graceful manner and stride, but he didn't know her reflexes were still so sharp...
Lyn sat up rigidly in bed, wide eyes fixed at the window. Jon went to her immediately, the Calico to the window just as quickly.
“It's out there,” Lyn said breathlessly. “The monster. I saw it.”
“Nonsense, child,” the Calico said, trying to sound calm. “As I said, I won't allow anything to harm you here.”
“What if it's not a monster?” Jon said slowly, watching the Calico's reaction.
“What else can it possibly be?” Lyn insisted. Before she even realized it, she blurted, “Mother wouldn't dare...”
“No... Not Mother.”
* * * * *
They stayed in her own chambers for the rest of the night. The Calico roused her servants to prepare food for her and her charges, regardless of the late hour. She plied them with an impressive array of confections - the choicest selections from her expansive reserves. Jon picked and nibbled; Lyn ate herself into a stupor, matching the Calico bite for bite, although significantly messier.
It was the most personable they'd ever seen her. Initially Jon suspected the chatter was partly to calm herself down, as she cushioned herself with finery and decadence, but it soon melted into genuine conversation. They - that is, Lyn and the Calico - rambled on fluidly, from initial pleasantries to downright inanities. (They actually got into a serious, detailed discussion about leftover chicken! White meat or dark? Cold or re-heated? Or was room-temperature really the best way to have it?) Jon observed, as he always did, with growing fascination. It relaxed him somewhat - albeit aided by all the wine. (Chilled sharp white with the room-temperature chicken; a nice rich red with the warmed roast beef; port with the ham, riesling with the cheese.) Of course, the twins never had wine with anything, so naturally everything tasted good with everything else.
To his surprise, she even invited serious topics, answering them honestly, openly, with very little sign of her haughty hubris. She even sat on the floor with them when they talked, at their level rather than towering above them as she usually did.
“If we're your hostages, why are you being so nice to us all of a sudden?”
“I never said you were my hostages, child. You are under my protection and supervision; my charges - or wards, if you will.”
“Even though you hate Mother.”
Not even a pause; just a nod. “Even though.You see, little one, there are rules that still need to be followed. Protocol and all that. You and your brother will learn all these in time.” A chuckle. “Let's hope you learn them quickly and learn them well.”
“Mother never mentioned -”
“Well, some of us fail to teach the next generation properly, is all. It's enough for them to know the rules exist and must be followed. And those that fail to learn the right way, learn the hard way.” She reclined luxuriantly, her eyes glittering. “Tragic, actually.”
“Blah, blah, blah...” Lyn wrinkled her nose. “That's really stupid. Why have them in the first place, if not everybody knows them all the way?”
She sat up immediately, locking Lyn in her green-eyed gaze. “It's what keeps us from being animals. All of us. Including your mother's people. The rabble...” She supressed a shudder as she glanced out the window for a very long while; she seemed intent on searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find. “Surely we wouldn't be masters of all we survey if we devolved into base animals, would we?”
But Lyn was already asleep, sprawled across Jon. With some difficulty, he nudged her off; she didn't even twitch. He regarded the Calico cautiously, slowly dabbing the remnants of riesling from his mouth. They finished the meal in a silent impasse.
“We're not rabble,” Jon said as he half-carried, half-dragged his sister to bed.
The Calico was already under her covers. “Not anymore, little one.”
* * * * *
It was raining heavily by the time he returned to the shelter after burying the remains of his son.
It was late; the shelter was full. Those few who were still awake moved groggily to accommodate him. He scanned the darkness halfheartedly, hoping Shell hadn't stayed up waiting - though he knew she probably had.
She was dozing next to Tab, dwarfed by his mammoth form. Tab curled a huge arm around her as she shivered, sneezed, but didn't wake. Their breathing was in unison. Tab was her protector; her shelter, he reminded himself harshly; he didn't even have the strength to snarl. It would be best to leave it be, at least for tonight.
He shook his head grimly and turned his back to the sleeping forms, shutting out all the sad, worried eyes.
“Gray.”
He stiffened, turned.
Shell extricated herself from Tab and padded cautiously to him. She was damp, he noticed; had she been out looking for him?
“Go back to sleep,” he said numbly. “I've still got things to do...”
“Why'd you come back?” She cocked her head. “Hungry? I saved something -”
“No.”
“Come in and rest, then. There's enough room -”
“No,” he said more firmly. He looked around, embarrassed, wishing his voice hadn't been quite that loud. His voice lowered to an angry hiss. “And stop looking at me like that, damn it.”
“Like what?”
“Like our -” His shout strangled in his throat. “Like Jon did.”
She nudged him gently. “Our son. Mine and yours.”
“I don't have sons,” he said harshly. “Lop's dead and Jon's hers - just like our daughter. We don't have anything that she hasn't taken away.”
Her eyes lowered in exhaustion. “I'm going back to bed. We can have a more civilized conversation in the morning, when there's fewer people trying to sleep.” She turned her back to him. “And when you're less... well... the way you are now.”
“Damn you!!” he roared. “My son is dead!!”
It took her last shred of self-control not to turn around. “Our children live, Gray.”
“What children?”
She cried softly as he stalked back into the storm.
* * * * *
He sought comfort from the queen of nothing.
Rags o' the Ashes was what they called her, and it didn't take long for her to start answering to it. After all, it wasn't out of spite; it was what she'd become. The loss of her domain had shattered her sanity, and the tedium of her continued existence - owing much to Gray's sole intervention - did little to restore it. She rarely left the overgrown lot and the scorched shell of her formerly splendid stronghold; indeed she had become part of the wasteland herself, scarred and broken from the same disaster that had claimed her realm.
The few joys and comforts she had either spoiled, withered, or took their terrible toll as time relentlessly marched on. The remnants of her dwelling (since the cataclysm, she never once called it a “home”) were crumbling away, eroding with each storm or snowfall. The colony of vermin sustaining her was extinguished by a toxin; even death mocked her then, as she writhed and spasmed and frothed from a bellyful of poisoned meat. She waited for two days and three nights in exquisite agony for the release that never came.
Most cruel of all, though, was when she had discovered she was expectant. The anticipation of children had restored much of her health: body, mind, and even soul. She glowed. Gray visited her daily, with offerings ranging from scraps of food he'd filched to entire feasts he'd proudly “liberated”. She grew strong and beautiful and proud - a near perfect replica of her former self. She even answered to her old name; she felt worthy of it once more. And for the first time in ages she entertained visitors, including Shell herself on occasion. Old grudges and mistrust were set aside at least for a while, replaced by merriment, celebration, and most of all hope...
All but one of her babies were either stillborn or dead by dawn.
Now even that one was gone.
“Let me in, Rags.”
Her mismatched eyes regarded him balefully. “Not you. Not tonight. Leave me.”
“The storm's getting worse.”
“You're wet anyway; go drown yourself.”
“Regina.”
Quivering, she reached out and caressed his face, then raked her filthy nails across his cheek. “Get out of my sight. Your face is his face. Your eyes are his eyes. You make me sick.”
“You're sick anyway. Let me in.”
A long pause. A choking rattle: a growl? A laugh? “Let the storm rage and tear everything down then; kill us both.”
He lay down next to her. She kissed away his blood and tears. Her mismatched eyes held the hint of a glitter. They came together as the ruins collapsed around them.
* * * * *
“What in the world is all that noise?” Lyn wailed, jolted awake by not only the commotion but the blinding daylight screaming through the window.
“Nothing that should concern you, child,” the Calico said firmly, peering warily outside. “Something must have happened in the wasteland.”
Lyn shivered; she and Jon had been forbidden to go anywhere near it. Any mention of the wasteland was sparse and sporadic, always spoken in cautious whispers. It was said that the place had once been a lush field with a glorious castle overlooking it; there was also talk of a beautiful princess - but that was long ago.
Some say it was destroyed because of the princess' pride, flaunting her disregard of the code - the very laws of their existence. Only ruins remained. Nothing grew there anymore, and indescribable, unnameable horrors roamed the blasted, cursed land. Wide-eyed and breathless (and later sleepless), Lyn and Jon even listened in morbid fascination to tales of the princess' restless ghost...
“Evil consumes itself,” the Calico continued, looming over the twins. “Behold the folly of ignoring our rules; the vanity of thinking one is beyond our laws. Just the mere thought of it: crossing blithely between sides...”
Jon looked at her levelly. “You did... Milady.”
She straightened her back, towering over him, throwing her huge shadow over them both. “Nonsense, Ratling! I did no such thing!”
“You let us Outsides into your house, which you said you weren't supposed to do,” Lyn retorted. “So that means you broke the rules yourself.”
“And you made us cross sides - against our will,” Jon added.
“You crossed sides anyway, the moment you crossed the threshold of my domain, don't you see?” She smiled smugly, gratified by their growing discomfiture. “It didn't matter whether you wanted to or not -”
“But that's not fair!! You lied!!” Lyn shrieked. “You deceived Mother into agreeing to something that she wouldn't possibly agree to -”
“You stole us, basically,” Jon said defiantly. “You cheated Mother out of -”
“Stop it! Both of you!!” the Calico roared. “There were no rules broken, and the Code was obeyed to the letter. Your own mother and I reached an agreement that all sides were happy with. You are my wards - not my trophies, not my plunder, certainly not my children...” She winced at that, softening her voice. “And definitely not my hostages. Is that clear?”
Lyn fumed, glowering.
Jon frowned. “But why?”
“Why what, child?” She sat down heavily next to him.
“Why did you take us in?”
She heaved a deep, exasperated sigh. “How many times must we go over this, child? I accepted you into my domain so your mother's people wouldn't starve through the winter, so they wouldn't live in squalor. I granted them some comforts that wouldn't otherwise be theirs. Were it not for my word, I would have driven your mother's people - yes, even Mother herself - from my domain. And was it not I who decreed a Ritual of Giving every seven days, rain or shine? Why, I even sacrificed food from my own table -”
“Ratshit!!” Lyn erupted. “Sacrifice means go without - you go cold, go sleepless, go hungry. You haven't ever gone hungry, have you? Have you, you big fat monster!!”
The Calico's slap sent her sprawling. “I've sacrificed more than you know, you ungrateful little...”
She was on her feet and out the door before the twins could see her tears.
* * * * *
“It's no use, Mistress,” Tab said softly. “We don't even know if the Rags o' the Ashes still exists, let alone if she was even here tonight.” He bit his lip. “Or if anyone else was, for that matter.”
“No; there's got to be something,” Shell insisted, diving back into the debris. “I've got to know, damn it.”
“Mistress, it's cold, smells like rain - or worse, sleet...” He glanced around helplessly at the others, who were as exhausted, if not more than he was.
She paused, turned, and looked at all of them. Nine had volunteered to venture into the wasteland with her to search for survivors. It was her duty, she reminded them firmly, to look after all her people - no exceptions. Tab of course was the first to stand with her, but now, after spending the bleak morning sifting through the tainted wreckage, even his dedication started to wane. But not his devotion, though - his loyalty to her. He would work until he dropped, if she wished it.
She lowered her eyes, then nodded grimly. “Lead them back, Tab, I'll stay.”
He straightened his back. “I'll leave when you do, Mistress.”
She sighed heavily. “Very well.”
Shell dismissed the others and ordered Tab to just sit and rest, to watch over her as she continued her search. She made several more desperate trips into what was left of the shelter, squeezing between fallen beams and wriggling through patches of freezing filth, until she staggered out retching. Tab was at her side immediately, effortlessly hauling her across the street. She was trembling, he noticed, as she collapsed in a fit of dry heaves.
“It's nothing,” she insisted, her throat raw. “A cold; the weather; nothing more.”
“This whole place is poison, Shell. Nothing could have possibly lived here.” He snorted, stifling his own growing wave of nausea. “Nothing that wanted to go on living, leastways.”
She struggled to her feet. “But there was something in there - something I saw -”
He took her firmly by the shoulders and led her home. “Well, that something can wait. If it's there, it'll stay there till you're well again. Now please, Shell...”
“There were ... images ... of the domain. Not the wasteland, but the Empress' own lands, Tab. A way inside, underground, like the ruins... And I know Gray's been there. I just know... There's something real wrong... Like he's going to -”
She wilted in his strong arms as the exhaustion and delirium - The sickness? The toxin? The curse of the wasteland? - conquered her.
* * * * *
Her midday nap gave her no comfort. Guilt from striking the girl gnawed at her insides; every time she closed her eyes the nightmare was there: the girl's defiant eyes, the girl's shrieking voice, the abrupt halt, the jarring impact of the blow against her young, angry face... The fall.
Usurper.
Her eyes flew open at the sound of that horrible voice. Old, vicious, grating, venomous. The stuff of nightmare. No, not even that. It was the Nightmare.
She practically flew from her bed as the door opened. Her servants paused in surprise at their lady's demeanor - wild-eyed, disheveled, frightened - but then continued their duties, making her bed, laying out her noon meal. She gave orders to keep the children away, to serve them separately; she wanted solitude. They complied reticently, reminding her in passing that she was receiving a visitor in the late afternoon and that the Ritual of Giving was tonight.
The thought of good company should have relaxed her, but it didn't. Instead it filled her with a slow dread. What would her guest think of them? These little creatures, these wild things? What would he think of her now, now that she was surrounded - infested - with them? Surely he wouldn't judge her based on their behavior, their mere presence. Surely their loud, uncouth demeanor wouldn't reflect negatively on her...
Nonsense!! She was the Lady of the Realm - her word was law, her will be done. Her deeds were above question, her actions beyond reproach. What her guest thought of her wards wouldn't matter in the least. After all, the children had as much right to be in her stronghold as her distinguished guest himself: they were all nobility now, and they were all there at her pleasure. And if her guest disagreed...
Ratshit.
* * * * *
The Empress had provided a splendid feast for her guest, a noble from another realm. The Exile, as he was called, was fat and jovial, lively and boisterous - every bit as spoiled as the Calico herself. Scarred and partially blinded from his time Outside, he kept his one good eye fixed on the twins with a contemptuous glare.
Jon kept Lyn from venturing too closely to them, but even he couldn't resist watching the feast unfold. The spread was just as elaborate and expansive as the banquet she'd laid out for them the night before. Meat, drink, confections, delicacies, everything.
It amused him somewhat that her distinguished visitor was dining on their leavings.
It further pleased him that he and Lyn had been treated as distinguished guests themselves. He watched the Empress with genuine fascination - admiration, even - as she maneuvered expertly through what was truly her element. The festivity, the decadence, the regalia, all of it was hers: it was more than playing the hostess and enjoying it. It was what she was.
And last night, the Calico shared it with them.
However, it was different now. He could feel their eyes upon them, judging them. Looking down their noses at them. The Empress most of all, it seemed; she was doing most of the talking, certainly none of the listening.
Instead, Jon listened. Eyes lowered, he kept one ear to the conversation as he continued to play Chase Me, Chase You with his twin.
“They're just unused to it all, Jack. It overwhelms them sometimes. But in time they'll come around, you'll see. Why, just the other day -”
“Oh, please. This is so unlike you, Kas. I've never known you to be the patient one, ever. I mean, sharing your wealth with the unfortunates is one thing - kudos to you for that alone, your little Ritual of Giving - but actually allowing them Inside...”
“Strictly business, Jack. An exchange of commodities, is all."
The Exile chortled. "What value do you place on this lot?? They're worthless - every last one of them. Why, my slaves ran one of them down - splat!! - just yesterday, while running my errands... Did it matter? No! Did anyone care? No!! The rabble will just keep on breeding, just like the rest of the vermin of the streets..." His cold green eye glinted as he leaned forward. "The one thing I regret about running down that filthy little wretch is that it wasn't the father..."
"Keep your Outside vendettas Outside, Jack, and spare me details of your conquests and dalliances as well... Honestly, why you insist on returning to the place of your exile is beyond me!!" The Calico supressed a shudder as she sat up defiantly. "As I was saying, the rabble gets table scraps and hunting rights; I get loyal minions and pest control.”
“Hah!! They're little more than pests themselves. Just look at them. More like the Outsides get the feast, and you get the fleas...” His jovial demeanor immediately vanished, though, replaced by a glowering scowl. “Lower your eyes when you face me, Rat,” he hissed at Lyn.
“I wasn't even looking at you!!” Lyn protested.
“Kas, I will not suffer such insolence from vermin; I don't care what that thing is to you!!”
“What did you call me?!!” Lyn shrieked. "Listen, you one-eyed -"
“Hold your tongue, child, this instant,” the Calico demanded. "How dare you speak to -"
Hazel eyes flashing dangerously, Lyn strode up and slapped her.
The rest was a blur. Plates were upset, drinks were spilled. Jon lunged to interpose himself between Lyn and the Calico. He was slammed to the floor, stunned by the force of the Exile's slap. Lyn shrieked in rage. Another stinging blow caught him across the face. He tasted his own blood. His ears rang with the Exile's booming laughter.
“Out of my sight!! Now!!” the Calico roared as her servants thundered in to break up the fracas.
Jon blacked out before he fully realized she wasn't talking about them.
* * * * *
It was already dusk by the time she awoke. She still felt sick, weakened by the foray into the wasteland. Her stomach heaved; her head spun. Shards of thought stabbed at her mind; never a full memory, her mind's eye was a blur.
“Tab?”
“No.” The voice was hollow, barely above a whisper.
She sat up abruptly. Her eyes flew open, blearily scanning the semi-darkness. It made her dizzy. She clamped her eyes shut again. She lay back down, engulfed by nausea; the toxin still clung to her. She rolled over onto her side and retched.
“Blood tonight... Revenge... As the flames rise... My will be done...”
Suddenly it all came together in a fleeting flash of clarity: the curse of the wateland, the images from the ruins, the Empress' lands, a way beneath the stronghold...
“Gray,” she rasped weakly, struggling to sit up again. “Don't do this... Our children -”
But the presence was gone; the noxious vapors dissipated. Her mind cleared and she shouted for Tab. He and others were at her side instantly. They scanned the shelter and secured it, posting watches at all entrances, no matter how small. Tab ordered even more to check outside, in a desperate effort to find the source of Shell's alarm.
Shell strained to have it make sense, but even that took too much effort. All she could get out was little more than gibberish. She pleaded with them to find Gray, to stop him - but from what she couldn't say. She told them of danger, even going so far as insisting she see the Empress to warn her - but of what she couldn't say. They tried in vain to follow her frenzied ramblings, but in the end they dismissed them all - from the curse to the castle - as fever dreams.
“You can tell it to her yourself at the Giving,” Tab said tiredly. “Or at least try to. It's up to her if she decides to listen, though.”
“I will; she must.” She lay back down and closed her eyes. “Would you tell me when it starts?”
He sniffed. “One of her servants is already lighting the fires. It should be soon.”
“Send someone there now; and if they see Gray -” She paused, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Damn it, it's not like he'll listen...”
* * * * *
Shell waited in the shadows as she watched her people feast. Tab and others dutifully brought her some of the offerings, which she sampled politely, but the food tasted of ash. She lounged beneath a tree and kept an eye to the open door. Light and warmth from inside the stronghold poured forth, bathing the revelers as they enjoyed their meat and drink, but that was all. The barrier was still up: the cold, unforgiving screen keeping them all outside. Shell shifted uneasily; the fires were out, but the Calico still didn't show.
Instead, it was Lyn.
“Mother!!” she cried.
Shell's heart froze. She bolted to the door. The merriment stopped. They all turned to look at the child who had once been one of their own...
“Lyn...” Shell murmured, pressing her hands desperately against the screen. “Dearest -” Her voice ended in a strangled gasp as she saw her son.
“Hi,” Jon said softly, avoiding her tortured gaze.
“What's she done to you?!! What happened to your face?!!”
They all started to gather, grimly approaching the door, rallying behind their Lady. Jon felt their eyes on him. His mother's rage rang in his head. His bruised face throbbed. He could hear the crowd outside start to stir with a low, unified growl...
Jon wept silently as he turned and walked deeper into the stronghold.
“Jon!!” Shell screamed, her heart breaking.
“Mother, it wasn't her,” Lyn pleaded. “It was that horrible person, that Inside she has as her guest -”
Instantly Lyn was scooped up by one of the Empress' guards and whisked away, still shrieking and thrashing.
“I'll kill you!!” Shell roared, throwing her small, thin body against the barrier. “Face me, you monster!! You coward!! You animal!!!”
The Empress thundered forward with her vanguard. Many of the Outsides scattered; only a few stayed at Shell's side.
“Control yourself,” the Calico said calmly.
Shell fell back, snarling. “Come out from behind your slaves and your shields and face me.”
“There is nothing I would enjoy more than putting you in your place, Rat,” she sighed. “But, alas, the girl is right; your fight is not with me. At least, not tonight.” She busied herself with cleaning beneath her nails. “The one that harmed my ward has been dealt with. He has been sent away; I had him barred from my domain indefinitely.”
“Give me a name, then. It's the least you can do.”
“I do not have to do a single thing.” A chuckle rose from the Calico's throat. “Inside affairs do not concern you.”
“Who?” she demanded. “The harm done to my son needs to be answered with more than just words.”
“The harm done to my ward was met with my decree. Your status as his mother has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“A status you'll never have!!” she flared, advancing to the door.
“One I shall never want -”
“Because you can't ever be a mother to anything, can you?!!”
Casting off any semblance of propriety, the Calico charged the barrier, ramming against it with her full weight. She shouted and screamed to be let loose, to end this once and for all. Shell and the remaining Outsides attacked, but the barrier still held. The royal vanguard firmly restrained the Calico and led her away.
Shell was the last to withdraw after the door was slammed shut and barred. She looked down at her bloody hands, where she'd struck and raked the screen. She was still shaking with fury. Inside, she could still hear the Calico's own frenzy.
“Behold the Empress,” Shell sneered, anger drying her tears as she led the remnants of her people away. “Every bit the animal she says I am.”
They followed her in silence, past the broken basement window.
* * * * *
“Jon, come out of there.” Lyn said, peering into the shadows.
“Go away.”
“Come on, it's dark and filthy and chilly and creepy down there. And there's spiders...”
“Suits me just fine!!”
Lyn warily descended the stairs into the dankness. Her feet prickled at the cold concrete. She let out an eek! or an eww! with every other step, but she trudged onward, searching every last nook for her twin.
She found him sulking inside a cardboard box. Her heart ached; he'd been crying. He glared at her.
“She's still tantruming up there, like an I-dunno-what.” Lyn forced a laugh.
“You'd think she'd taken on every last Outside singlehandedly,” he snorted.
“She did get banged up a little - but that was from smacking into the barrier.”
They both laughed at that.
“You'd think she'd knock the whole castle down, if she tried hard enough, with her body,” Lyn sighed, puffing out her cheeks.
“Nah... Then what would she have to hold over Mother? What would keep us inside and Mother outside?”
“Her decree!!”
Jon chuckled. “It's all ratshit, after all, isn't it?”
“What is?”
“Insides and Outsides. All the differences they say there are. I mean, there really isn't a difference, is there? At least there shouldn't be, however -”
“Of course there is! There's a big difference between Mother and her.”
His dark eyes met hers. “And what about us? What are we, Lyn?”
She bit her lip, straining for an answer.
“They didn't know us, Lyn. Not a single one of them recognized you. And it wasn't until Mother said anything that they even moved at all -”
“Don't say that!! Of course they knew us! Why else would they -”
“They didn't do a single damn thing until Mother came forward. They were all following those damn rules and regulations and protocols and all that stuff the Empress was spouting out.” He was shaking now, on the verge of tears. “All that stuff Mother agreed to on her own...”
“Stop it!! That's our family out there - the people we've grown up with, that we played with, that looked after us - Big Tab and JoJo Goldeneyes and Cookie Weathermay and Lightningfast Mal and Morgan Last-in-Line and Filthy Lop too. They're the only people we ever knew and you're talking like they're strangers!!”
“They're Mother's people, yes. Just that they're no longer ours.” He turned away from her and walked deeper into the darkness before she could see his tears.
Lyn strained her eyes trying to follow him. “And it stinks down here, too,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“So leave, then -”
Jon's voice caught in a strangled cry as he was thrown down onto the concrete. Filthy, ragged nails raked his face and neck. The air burned in his lungs, tainted with a reek of death, decay, poison...
Lyn shrieked and froze in fright, met with cold, mismatched eyes.
* * * * *
The Calico was through the door and down the stairs, charging through the darkness within moments of hearing the girl's scream. She rushed forward and slammed into Jon's assailant with the full weight of her body, sending them both sprawling across the cold floor. The force of her impact sent the intruder into a pile of trash.
“Run, children!!” she ordered, getting to her feet. “Get out of here, now!!”
Lyn seized Jon and tried to drag him to the foot of the stairs. To her disbelief, Jon resisted, willing himself to sit up and watch as the Calico turned to her adversary.
“Leave my wards out of this - face me!!” she said firmly. “I am the Lady of the Realm, and your quarrel is with me.”
A grating rattle - a laugh? - shattered the cold silence as the Rags o' the Ashes emerged from the shadows. “You, Kastramantha, have no right to this domain. You are nothing more than a pretender and a usurper.”
The Calico's breath caught in her throat. “How dare you call me -”
“You can't bear heirs!! The Land shouldn't have been yours!! And once your wards are dead by my hand, the Land will die along with you.” She strode forward, mismatched eyes blazing with malevolent rage. “The Exile was right, Kastramantha... It is you who are the animal that overstepped its bounds. It is you who are the Outside.”
Jon and Lyn stood transfixed, astonished.
“Back upstairs - now!!” the Calico commanded. “Don't listen to a single word -”
“You were an Outside once, just like us,” Jon said softly. “Just like Mother.”
“Every bit the vermin that you are,” Rags o' the Ashes snarled. “My father was the true Lord of this Realm, and I was there the moment he died. He used the last of his strength to throw her down these very stairs - casting her into darkness and filth...” She sneered defiantly. “And he denounced her with his last breath as she stole his kingdom -”
Quivering with fury, the Calico attacked.
* * * * *
Lyn hauled Jon to a corner protectively. Jon swayed to his feet, his dark eyes still fixed on the fight. Rags o' the Ashes - by far the smaller of the two - was frenzied and savage, while the Empress was dexterous, disciplined, and graceful despite her size - but not without a fierceness that can only come from one fighting to protect her own.
A queen defending her property, Jon pondered, or a mother protecting her children?
Within moments the Calico had the intruder's frail body pinned beneath her heavy form; she held her there until there was no fight left in her. The only sound was the adversary's reeking, rasping breaths; the only scent in the cold air was poison.
“Upstairs, I said! Now!!” the Empress screamed, her powerful voice finally cracking.
Lyn tried to get Jon to move, but her heart leapt as she heard the door slam shut and footsteps descend.
A low snarl from the top of the stairs. “Nowhere to run... Milady.”
The Calico's eyes widened as she turned. “Graymalkin...”
“Da!!” Lyn cried happily, hurrying toward him.
“Get behind me, darling,” Gray said firmly. “Pass behind me; there's an open window above that gets you back out into the alley -”
“No...” Rags o' the Ashes gasped weakly, coughing up more blood. “Kill her, Gray, and then kill them. The line of pretenders must end...”
“She's right, Graymalkin,” the Calico said in a low, deadly growl. “You will have to kill me first before you do anything to my wards.”
“Kill them, Gray,” the choking rattle implored. “They are no longer your children. They are her wards - and the line must end... She killed your son - yours and mine, and now you have what I have -” Rags o' the Ashes winced as blood filled her throat. “Nothing.”
“No!!” Jon exploded, advancing slowly. He ignored the stinging cuts and bruises on his face as he cautiously strode to face his father. “There was something I heard from that nobleman, the one called the Exile - it was all his doing!! He sent his slaves on a mission and they ran down an Outside... And he said it was a pity it wasn't the father...”
“Child,” the Calico said firmly, as calmly as she could manage, “we neither reveal nor discuss our affairs to the Outsides, no matter who -”
“You shut up!!” Lyn flared. “You say we're not your children, and we don't want to be your children anyway, so stop calling us that, damn it!!” Her voice rose to a frenzied shriek. “And I'd rather be an Outside and stay an Outside, instead of being what you are!!”
The Calico just stared, genuinely stung.
A strangled gasp broke the silence. Rags o' the Ashes struggled and thrashed, dying in a growing pool of blood.
* * * * *
He emerged from the darkness as Shell wept.
“We have nothing to say to each other,” she said icily, not even bothering to face him.
“As you wish, Milady.” He paused. “I just came to offer my condolences.”
“My affairs are not yours, Exile.”
He bore the name stoically. “I cannot imagine what it's like to lose a child, let alone two -”
She whirled around and slapped him sharply. “That's the only warning you'll get, you bastard. Now get out of my sight, before I give you a scar to match the one Gray gave you.”
He turned slowly and took a step back into the shadows. “That's true - I should give my condolences to Her Grace as well; after all, they were her wards...”
“They ... were?”
Shell sprang, launching her small body against him. She struck at him furiously; she clawed and bit, her face and hands awash in his blood. He fought back as well, throwing her down repeatedly, but she still kept attacking.
“Mother!!”
Her mind spun: her daughter's voice; the broken window... “Lyn, stay back!!”
Shell screamed as her daughter charged the Exile.
* * * * *
The rest was a blur.
Lyn experienced pain, the likes of which she'd never felt before: heavy, jarring blows landing on her face and body. She felt her teeth rattle, her head crack sharply on the pavement, her breath driven from her lungs with the impact. Every last shred of her being, though, willed her to keep fighting. Her tiny hands gouged the Exile's remaining eye. Her tiny nails raked his face and neck. His teeth clamped down on her fingers; she shrieked as her bones crunched; he howled in pain as she managed to rip out a tooth.
His warm blood washed upon her as he tried desperately to throw her off. She could taste the asphalt as they both sprawled into the middle of the street.
Light. Blinding light and a deafening screech...
And then pain. Heavy, crushing pain.
Then darkness.
* * * * *
She was buried with all the honors befitting a Princess of both Realms.
His body was left for the vermin of the alley: the worms, the rats, the crows. The animals.
At dawn, both Sides came together in remembrance. Their voices came together in peace as the rising sun cut through the winter's chill to warm them all.
EPILOGUE
"Are you sure she'll be here?"
The Calico sighed. "Of course, child, why would she not?"
"She's late! What if something happened?"
"Oh, nonsense! Do you think your mother would allow anything to happen? And stop pacing, child!!"
A stir from the shadows. "Jon. His name is Jon... Your Grace."
"Ah, Lady Shell, welcome to the Giving." The Calico coughed slightly. "You are healing well, I see."
"Been a week; I'm fine. Nothing I haven't shrugged off before." Shell paused. "I see you're healing well, too."
The child's voice cut through the tension easily. "I never knew she was as scrappy-tough as you, Mother!! Or wicked-fast, too!!"
"Yes, well." The Calico smiled slowly. "And how are you, little one?"
Jon's dark eyes flashed indignantly. "Lyn. Her name is Lyn... Milady."
The Calico chuckled. "Of course, Jon. How are you feeling, Lyn?"
Lyn giggled, then groaned. "Better. Still sore. But I'm as scrappy-tough as Mother is. You'll see!!" She paused, biting her lip. "Thank you for what you did... Running across the street to save me, that is... And I... ummm... I'm sorry for shouting and calling you all those horrible things. You're not a big fat monster."
"Yes, well..." The Calico snorted, signaling one of her slaves to open the barrier. "I'm not a monster at least."
The twins reunited and joined the others in the yard for the weekly Ritual of Giving.
Shell hid a small smile, then cleared her throat. "Graymalkin regrets that he won't be joining us tonight; he sends his regards, Your Grace."
The Calico raised an eyebrow. "Does he? Does he really?"
Shell smirked. "No; not really. Just his consent... And his blessing. He's in complete agreement with the new arrangement."
"Yes, well... I hope it will be better for everybody this way, including the children."
Shell's golden eyes beamed. "Thank you, Your Grace, for declaring the yard and the basement neutral ground; it'll help them see each other regularly, while adhering to the arrangement."
"Yes: one Inside as my successor, one Outside as yours... Unfortunately it is all I can do, to replace the son Graymalkin lost." Her eyes lowered. "How is he ... if I may inquire?"
"Still in mourning." She shifted uneasily. "Rags - rather, Regina was his ... companion. And the mother to one of his children."
The Calico nodded slowly. "Lady Regina rests in an honored place now; she shall not be forgotten, ever again. For who she was, as well as for what she had done in her final moment..." She snarled slightly. "Jack got what was coming to him; it is truly fitting he met his end by her hand..."
"In the basement she admitted everything: consorting with the Exile, him finding out that Jon and Lyn were Gray's children, how he wanted both our lines to end so he could take control of it all..." She paused, suppressing a shiver. "Just before you both ran out into the street, she asked me to forgive her." Shell murmured. "While you grabbed Lyn, she used the last of her strength to hold the Exile down..."
"She has been forgiven many, many times over... Please, Lady Shell, if Graymalkin does not already know, would you tell him?"
Shell glanced around, searching the darkness. "He does; I'm sure of it, Your Grace."
The Calico's green eyes glittered, as she smiled uneasily. "Kas. My name is Kas."
A shadow stirred nearby: A snarl; a smile?