Excerpt: The Fall of Young Foreign Things

I dropped her at the doorstep. She watched me with eyes wide with admiration. This was not the first time I questioned whether this dolt knew she was the pawn in a hideous blackmail scheme. Did she know her father may be shot this evening if he failed his task? Her fortune depleted by the sun's rise?

"The moonlight makes your hair shimmer, Mister Alain. It's almost as if-"

"Go inside. Tell them I am out here if they need me. You are their problem and if they- if they try anything with you, miss, just scream. It's not my fault."

"Oh, Mister Alain, will you take me inside?" When I looked reluctant, she added. "Or else I'll run away. Then what will happen to you?"

Bodily, I picked her up and pushed open the first shady door.
"Crisco? It's White. I've got her."

"Who's Crisco? Mister Alain, why are we here?" Mercedes' voice grew frantic.

There was a long moment of silence before a crackling voice wafed through the wood. "C'mon in, White."
***
Smoke and heavy purfume refused any space to breathe. I chose to stand near a glassless window, inhaling deeply whenever a gust breezed through. The air was heavy with what may be rain. Smoke, I rationed, could be dealt with. The stress of ten men with weapons and a girl clinging to me envoked shortness of breath and was certain to snap my mental circuits any moment now.

I remained stiff, only shifting slightly to breathe. I observed the room as the men congregated. Mostly it was dark aside from a sparking electric bulb in the center of the room. Everything was wooden, reminiscent of my time on board a ship and sailing across the Atlantic. Sometimes I saw one of the men eyeing me, but I'd hear a few words spoken too fast for my foreign ears to comprehend and I had to look away.

Mercedes' face was pressed to my chest, her hair pillowing down her back in black wisps having lost several pins during our flight. She was only allowed to remain in that position because she was "scared, Mister Alain." She then unleased her blue, doe-like eyes. "What if they hurt me?"

For some reason, having someone cling to me alofted some sort of comforting authority. I had no idea standing in a room of fear could elate feelings such as these. This was the quiddity of my nightmares, my fears; the thought my family — who had risked so much already — would be suddenly no more based on my feudle mistakes. I had been blackmailed based on a mistake, based on something out of my control though I would never forget my feeling of regret.

*** (Skipping stuff for the sake of... all that's good)

The group of shadowed men suddenly dispersed, leaving one figure in the middle of the room.

"White, let go of her."

"Thank you. Get off of me," I hissed, and from my previous, pitiful feelings, reluctantly added, "Miss."

She began to whine. "But what if they hurt me?"

"It's no longer of any concern to-"

"But my family has more money and more impor-"

I grimaced, knowing I had been only too quick to show pity, and shoved her towards the large man. "Here she is. May I go, monsieur?"

"If only you could promise to forget where this place is, kid."

Inwardly cursing this whole establishment, I tried to oblige. "I have no reason to return. I promise-"

"Right, right." The boss, Crisco, grinned at me. The combination of a flash of yellow teeth and the horrible twinkle in his eye weakened my stomach. "But let us help you with that. Rege?"

A familiar face — the same large man who knocked Signore Fraserati down only weeks before — I thought idly, as if already in a daze — swung a plank of wood at my side.
***
I had ducked out of the way of Rege's wooden weapon, but was not ready for Crisco's well-aimed swing. I collapsed, coughing. It was not fire that ripped my throat, but the lack of everything. Everything hurt.

More hits and kicks — I think — to my side. Mercedes was screaming prettily when I blacked out.