Part 3

Her hand was frozen midway between the bag of chips and her open mouth.  She blinked, once, twice, and then was broken from her stunned silence by a low rumbling overhead.  "What is that?"

"We're below the main subway lines."

This seemed to calm her.  The chip continued its way to her mouth.

The crunching made my stomach growl but I continued with my explanation.  "Cyrus is one of the remaining Underground Princes.  There were a dozen originally, but I only know of seven of us now."

Mouth full of half chewed chip.  "Us?  You're one of them?"  She backed away, taking the bag of chips with her.

"Yes I am," I shrugged as I took a seat on the ground next to my cart.

She stopped her retreat and eyed me cautiously.  "So I'm some kind of trophy to you guys now?"  She asked.

I had been afraid it would come to this.  I sighed, "No, most of us are content with the way things are."

"What do you mean, 'the way things are'?"

"I don't know," I admitted.  "We're not really sure what would happen if one of us were to take a bride.  We've heard the stories..."

"But what do the stories say?"  She interrupted me, but her question went unanswered.

A bright flash of light left us both seeing spots, and once our vision had finally cleared, we were no longer alone.

Part 2

What can I say, I am a coward.  I looked at our surroundings.  We were amongst a large pile of crates, my mark etched upon the floor.  It was simple, a pair of rectangles stacked akimbo, an S in the top one and a C in the bottom.

She sagged against me.  "What happened?"

"We shifted."  I told her.  "Hold on, we're going to do it again."  I turned the orb that was still in my hand.  We shifted again.  That was the problem with shifting blindly.  You always went somewhere...

"This'll work."  We were in a long forgotten stone room off of one of the abandoned subway lines.  My sign occupied a position on the wall to my left.  So were those of a few of the others.  I kicked a metal box and it whirred to life, lighting a string of white Christmas lights that hung around the eight foot ceiling.

She leaned against the wall.  Sank to the cold floor.  "What?  How?  Where are we?"

"Safe."

"But how did you do that?"

I pulled the glass sphere from beneath the pile of rags on my cart.  The orb reflected the meager light, chasing the shadows back into the very corners of the room.

"This is a Sigil Sphere.  With it, I can move between places bearing my mark."

"Oh."  She did not understand, and would not without the full explanation.  "Does he have one of those... things?"

"Yes."

She rose, looking for the door.  Panicked when she did not see it.

I waved toward a stack of cardboard boxes.  "It's behind there.  But sit, you are safe I said."

"How do you know, I mean he could pop in here just like we did..."

"No he can't.  His..."

"How do you know?  He's following me."

I reached in to my cart again, pulling out the hotdog.  I ate it slowly, arranging the words in my mind.  "Look Mary."  I said, sterner than I meant.  Lightening my tone, I continued, "His mark is not in this room, it's nowhere near here.  There's some chips in that box over there."  I pointed towards a wooden crate against the far wall.

Surprisingly, she crossed the room and retrieved them, like a puppy, bringing them back to me.

"No, you eat them."

"Why?  What does he want from me?"

"Why?  To keep your mouth busy so you stop asking questions.  As to Cyrus?  He wants you to be Queen."

Part 1

Squeak.  Squee-rattle.  Kick.  Squeak.  I pushed my cart containing all of my worldly belongings down the alleyway.  I had upgraded since last we met, her and I.  In her younger, cleaner days.  I might have approached her.

"Wait."  She called out.

I decided she wasn't that dirty, besides, who was I to talk.

"You were there.  You saw him.  You have to help me."

I dig in the top basket of my cart, pull out a half eaten hot dog.  No mustard this time, but I had bought it that way.  Had a good day on my corner.

"No, I don't need your food."

Her sunken cheeks told me otherwise but I don't argue.  I push the food back into it's wrapper, back into my cart.  "Coulda' fooled me miss."

"Uh, um."  She stumbles over her words.  She has not been doing this very long.  Still does not see herself as one of us.

"You can call me Subway Charlie."

"Oh, I'm Mary," she makes to hold out her hand and looks at the grime covering it, laughs nervously.

She does not know her nickname down here yet.  Dairy Mary, on account of her big... People can be so cruel.  I light up half a cigarette.  Offer her a drag.  She looks at it and then at me.  Takes it from my outstretched hand and finishes it in one long, slow pull.  I take the burning butt from her and use it to light another.  She does not see the glance I give her.  She is looking over her shoulder.

"What's wrong Da... Mary?"

"He's still after me."

"Who is?"  I knew the answer.  But did she?

"The man with the knife!"  A police car passed the mouth of the ally, the red and blue lights briefly illuminating her face.  It was not just dirt on her face, the bridge of her nose was busted open, the blood still wet.

"Cyrus."  I looked over her shoulder myself, but did not see him.  "It's not safe here."  I took her hand.  Despite the dirt, the skin is still soft.  I expect her to pull away but she does not.  I look her in the eyes, and she nods.  Mouths 'Okay.'

I reach into my cart, hand seeking a glass orb.  I see him break from a nearby shadow.  He is running, something glints in his hand.  But I find the sphere, clasp it.

We are safe.

Prologue

I learned something new about myself today.  It was down amongst the clack-clackity-clack of the subway cars.  I was sifting through the trash, looking for a half-eaten hotdog I had seen a man throw in there earlier when I heard the announcement.

"Grand Avenue Newtown.  Next stop Woodhaven Boulevard."

I looked up.  Watched as the masses pushed their ways onto the train.  They were coming or going.  I told myself they were slaves to their wages, chained to their desks.  But here I was digging through a trash can, chained to it so to speak.

No, that's not what I learned.  I've known that.  I found the hotdog, the yellow mustard staining the bun.  I hated mustard, it gave me heartburn.  But an empty stomach hurt worse.  I shoved the food into my mouth in three bites.  I was still chewing the third when it happened.  The subway doors closed and I heard a scream.

"NO!   No, please," she cried out.  It took me a minute to find her.  Them.  I watched in slow motion, listening to the drip drip of the water.  It was raining outside.  Oh, yeah.  Them.  A red head, short, mid twenties.  In my younger, cleaner days, I might have approached her, was trying to pull away from him.  I had seen him before, dressed in blue jeans and a black hoodie.He held her blouse with his left hand, the switchblade in his right.

I learned something about myself today.

I am a coward.