Clockwork Dream

ii A Thieves Paradise

It had hardly been a two days and Alexandra- no, Alice already imagined that she could feel the lice crawling across her scalp, mining their way through the accumulating dirt and oil. The new clothes she'd 'borrowed' did little to help, itchy rough fabric stained with grease and soot.  When she'd left she'd been prepared for the danger, the heartbreaking loneliness, the daring escapes. What she hadn't expected was being so filthy.

The smog hung heavily over the streets, and horse droppings smeared the cobbles because anyone who could afford a steam carriage wouldn't step foot on that side of town if their only child was being held hostage. People huddled in corners and alleyways, watching each other from the shadows. Children ran around in packs, chasing scraps away from dogs. All in all it was a bit... underwhelming.

Still, it was too late to turn back. She'd set her mind to it and Alexandra Elizabeth Driscoll did not do things halfway. Notot to mention she'd be disgraced if she ever did decide to return home dressed as a street urchin. They wouldn't even let her in the front door. That wasn't what was important though; she had a vital task to complete... and she was absolutely starving.

She'd brought some food and money to last a while but in an act of sheer stupidity she'd let one of the roving gangs of children catch sight of her pack and it had been stolen before she could blink. All she had left were a few coppers she'd slipped in her shoe for good luck.

Creeping out from a corner she found a crowd milling around the broken down stalls of a Sunday market. It was hardly a heartwarming affair, the vegetables molded and the fruits looked like they had been scrapped of the street along with the dung, yet somehow all of it was still out of her price range. Her stomach gave an exaggerated growl to remind her why she was there. Instead she turned off into one of the side streets.

Without warning a man stumbled into her, his breath hot with cheap whiskey and teeth black from a few too many draughts of bliss if she had to guess. The drug made you forget all your problems, and everything else. That included personal hygiene.

He leaned over her suggestively and she drew back on instinct. "Hellooo lovely, " he slurred, "Ya' lookinz razer lost. How'z about ya' let me show ya' round.?"

He was at least a foot taller than her but he was so inebriated that it didn't take much to push him away. She stormed past without a second glance.

"Ow now dun't be like that luuuv." He cried, waddling after her with a gait that might have looked cute on a toddler.

Several of his buddies lounged on a stack of empty crates and they catcalled after her, mocking the drunkard. "Leave 'er be Frank, who the blazes would want ta' touch your ugly mug."

The man growled in response. Alice turned to tell him off when a meaty hand clamped around her throat. Her back pressed flat against the brick wall, nearly pushing the air from her lungs.  "Iz told ya' ta' stay put" That vile breath spilled over her face.

"Haha," one of the onlookers laughed, "So that's why thy call it'a catch."

Black spots began to dance before her eyes as she felt his feverish skin press up against hers. Desperately she reached her arm down farther as his free hand crept lower on her body. With her last shaky dregs of breath she pulled the knife from her boot and stabbed him in the arm.

Bellowing he dropped her and she ran straight past him. She listened to his friends shouts of laughter fade into the distance until they vanished. Then she dropped to her knees gasping for breath. Apparently, danger wasn't all that glamorous either. Still, there was one thing she knew for sure. She didn't feel a damn bit guilty about stealing his purse.

She bought a loaf of thick brown bread with the last of his coin. He'd probably spent most of it on drugs and alcohol. The first bite was heavenly. She had never imagined that plain bread could taste so good, but the grains filled her aching stomach for the night. She would wager it was the best thing she'd ever eaten. She supposed hunger did that to a person. It was even better than the fragrant white loves her father's baker made, spiced with rosemary and drenched in fresh honey.