Prologue

The gaslights and seldom lit windows provided an outline above the town of Tinamoth this night, made more fickle by the fog and misty rain that enveloped the landscape. Most places of public gathering were closed by this hour. The taverns and free houses that would see some congregation were quieter than usual given the weather. It was not so cold that one did not see the seldom smoker or loquacious pair along the main street of town, but for most the darkness and fog offered the possibility of being robbed by some villain using the poor visual to their advantage. The handful of street cops that did patrol the promenades did not go looking for such things in the alleys and stairways of the town, but were content to work out a long, damp night with the silent understanding that the criminals just go about their business quietly and they’d resume their conflicts just the same the next night.

Given the conditions, the one place that did offer some incentive to brave the elements was what was popularly (and discreetly) known as “The Library”. The Library was a women-only boarding house named for it's many shelves of disused books that lined the walls and rooms. While the building itself was 2 floors, it worked with 3 as it had a basement where most of the lodging was done. Long ago a printing house, the top floor, with it’s large and mostly mirky windows, was reserved for large gatherings that were sometimes rented out by prominent businessmen and politicians hosting parties of investors or power brokers would have festivities there. Discretion being the order of the day, this was not a common occurrence, so the top floor was now mostly storage. The main floor with it’s large glass doors and charming foyer had a pair of lanterns hanging on either side of the white painted exterior. This night only one lantern was lit. Meaning there was no vacancy (for the gifted, at least)

Gretchen “The Librarian” was there up front, of course. Old and silver-haired, she had a strong memory for names and faces, which helped in making their frequent guests feel welcomed and kept the riffraff out. Her seemingly permanent scowl could be forced into a crack of a smile, but her strongest talent was keeping the books. Two sets. The first being a ledger of expenses and income and the second being the names of guests, their occupations, and specialties, as well as the time of arrival and departure. This was kept secret from the boarders but many showed little care. Should someone try to lean on the business, however, the leverage in those pages could indeed make them think twice. Should any intruder attempt to enter by force, “Wee Willy” would sure give them pause. A blotchy skinned black man exceeding seven feet tall and four hundred pounds of retired coal miner muscle, he now wielded his rock solid callous fists- always having a mining pick within reach- as security in the building. Nobody got downstairs without his permission.

Yes, The Library was a house of women. This led many to assume it was a place of ill-fame. Any who dared inquire into shady business was quickly turned away. The Library was a home for ladies who had nowhere else to go. And while they did engage in practices that were against the law, it wasn't something as crude as entertainment. Most of the women who took shelter here were gifted. Many did not seek out these gifts. And while there were many tomes available here, none could offer help when it came to understanding or honing these gifts. This was a safe place to adjust. For to practice them in anything but total secrecy could mean a fate worse than death.

This night was very quiet, Wee Willy was asleep. Lack of vacancies and eleven boys at home made sleep all that appealing. Gretchen reviewed one of the many books there, some sort of macabre tale, after boring herself of reviewing the numbers and names involved in the business. It would be several hours before dawn when a crate of cheap brandy would arrive, she’d had the money counted out twice and at the ready. She was begging for a new lodger previously but now seemed to be caught up in the pages before her when she noticed the lantern outside flicker violently and the doors rattle, and considered a wind gust as she looked up and could regard the tail end of some great shadow passing by. Nights like these did play tricks on the mind and writing it off as wind and her imagination being tainted by the subject of the reading material, adjourned to something more pleasant- Poems of Springtime by Various. 

The basement was quiet but for the chatter of some of the girls who were dressed mostly for bed. Bookshelves were built into the walls of the hallways, much of the women there having their own rooms for so long that they were decorated in ways that matched their various gifts and specialties. It didn’t smell too bad thanks to the house offering sweet wines and brandy to help warm the ladies on cold nights such as this one and seemingly endless variety of perfumes that the women applied. Mostly roses and lavender scents filled the air and helped with the stench of the gaslights that illuminated the floor and the tobacco smoke that emanated from each mouth there in this down time. Angelique was, she claimed, a descendant of aristocracy, so she employed a cigarette holder, and a velvet glove. Discussing the various eccentricities of their work that day with her neighbor across the hall, Roxie. Roxie was twice as old as most of the girls there, which meant she had fewer places to go as she was known to authorities. Smoke emanated from her mouth as she cackled with Angelique over an episode involving a concoction earlier that day. 

The mood was cracked when the distant wail of an infant was heard from down the hall- newer girl in the corner room, Anna, had a baby a week prior- her first- and insisted on keeping it. The crying continued for a moment til it was overtaken by the chimes of a music box, a spritely tune offered the little one a distraction and soon it was compelled away from crying and then drifted back to sleep. Her mother raising and lowering her hand above the now sleeping child as if conducting it to rest, attempting some incantation by hand, while smiling at the plump little boy before her. Anna was a homely looking girl, product of a farming family, probably, but had an honest smile to go with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was gifted with hand gestures, something that took a great deal of discipline and practice to master. She fit right in. Her recent addition, however, had stifled the atmosphere needed for such practice and she was told she wasn’t allowed to keep it. Roxie was more than willing during the early days of Anna’s pregnancy to show her a tried and true method of turning newborn babies into kittens or even snakes- but Angelique offered a different solution. “There is one who pays well for these things, when young and healthy.”, she said, Anna was horrified at either prospect, but she owed Gretchen enough money to make the devastating choice to hand over for coin rather than lose her situation. And tonight was the night of the transaction…

Being reminded of the presence of the child, Angelique examined her pocket watch and noted the lateness of the hour. They were more than a few minutes late for the rendezvous. Angelique proceeded to Anna’s room, pushing open the door with her stockinged foot, and made the curt but solemn announcement that it was time. Anna pleaded quietly for a moment to say goodbye, but the urgency of the time wasn’t going to allow that. Descending into crying and despair, Anna could not compel herself to part with the little bundle. Angelique offering some calm courage and sense spoke to her with the usual arguments, “What can you offer it? This is no place to raise a child!” and continued on until Roxie darkened the doorway with a few other girls peaking in over her shoulder. Filling her mouth with saliva, she consumed her cigarette, extinguished the flame hence, before spitting the whole mess out in a corner and offered a “For peace sake- I’ll do it!” Before stomping over and taking the now screaming child from her equally screaming mother. Angelique restrained and consoled Anna before bidding Roxie to continue on.

Roxie proceeded out to the opposite corner to what was a fire escape/shipment door from the old printing business. This was a sold iron door that only opened out into a staircase and took quite a bit of strength to force open- but should a fire break out the adrenaline would suffice. Roxie opened it with a push of a forearm and her body weight grunting as she exited into the evening. She was rather surprised how chilly it was for that time of year. Proceeding up the stairs, the heavy door slammed behind her almost automatically, and the child persisted in it’s crying. Roxie considered saying something to it, but cursed at herself at the silly thought. She’d lost kids before, some of hers didn’t even have names. Did this one? Who cared? The distant chime of a steeple bell seemed to indicate it was one o’clock in the morning. The streets were deserted, save for the clicking of a horse drawn carriage on the cobblestones some blocks away. Perhaps I was too late? she wondered before a set of heavy, metallic, clicks answered.

The clicks had the tempo of footsteps but none like she’d heard before. Turning towards their direction, a figure emerged from the mist and fog. It was shrouded in black, like something out of a ghost story or two she had partaken from the shelves. For a moment, she considered retreating, as the thought of handing over any living thing to this figure offered too many cruel possibilities for even the hard-boiled Roxie to stomach. But as the figure drew closer, a calm arose from it’s familiarity- this was the shape of a woman. She was long, slender, perhaps even elegant in all her imposing darkness. She wore a hooded coat, long, and had a scarf around her face that matched. She wore what could only be described as heavy armor on her legs and feet, even the soles were iron, and accounted for her steps. In this woman’s hand was also a metallic piece, a crate with a handle on it. Dropping it with hollow clatter, she stood before Roxie.

“I take it you’re the buyer?” she asked with an almost humorous tone,

“Boy or girl?”, was the response returned in a voice muffled by the scarf.

“Boy. Fat and healthy. Should make a good... I dunno... whatever you’re doing with it.”

No response was made by the buyer. Reaching into her coat, she retrieved a small bag that jingled with a familiar sound to Roxie- in fact her favorite. Roxie held out her free arm while keeping the baby, which had now cried itself to sleep, tucked in the pit of her arm with the other. The buyer then underhanded the bag over Roxie’s head and behind her, the purse landing with a loud clanging before the gentle glow a street lamp. Roxie followed the path of the money as it flew over head, exclaiming confusion, confirming its landing spot, and looking back at the buyer and just barely contained profanity from escaping her mouth. She considered tossing the baby, but set it down in a hurry instead, Roxie turned to go retrieve the money, but quickly snapped back in the direction of it’s provider- this wasn’t someone she wanted to show her back to. Roxie’s long, curly, brown hair was now straight and slick in the mist. The buyer did not move towards her or the baby. Roxie quickly ran to the money, only now did the buyer retrieve her purchase. Examining the child, confirming it was warm and breathing, she then opened the box and placed it inside, wrapping it in a leather pouch but with the face still exposed. The sides of the box had small holes to allow air inside but too small for anything else. It was as armored as she was. Roxie by now had her prize and was sideways walking facing the buyer while retreating towards the lit lantern of the front door of The Library. The buyer then walked away into the foggy night.

It wasn’t gonna be an easy explanation to Gretchen as to why she was coming back in so late and how she left- but the now departed baby and the money Anna owed in hand (minus a small fee for delivery, Roxie decided) would certainly suffice. Grabbing a hold of the door handle, Roxie noticed the distinct sound of flapping- like great wings- coming from the sky above her, slight gusts corresponded with each of these successive flaps, the lantern flickering violently until they carried away. The night in Tinamoth was once again silent…