It always was difficult sneaking out, the only window in the house found in her parents' old room. She could climb through it easily, but Sera slept so lightly that Hannah could not take that chance. The front door was equally treacherous. An endless maze of loose floorboards that groaned and creaked at the lightest footfalls. Once past those hurdles, the door was renowned for making a loud cracking sound. It was broken, rusted and malfunctioning. Instead of swinging open, it needed a forceful shove to dislodge the hinge before it could open.
There was a third exit. A forgotten one. Hannah's father must have built it to keep his old boating equipment. A basement. It spanned almost the entire block, beginning under their old, tattered rug and ending inside a fireplace of a burnt out building. The only danger on the other end was the occasional group of men that lurked in the building. Probably for shelter.
Tonight, two men talked softly a room away. Hannah was always cautious about exiting the fireplace. She listened and waited, until convinced they were not moving from their positions. It was a simple thing slipping through the house undetected. Prisms of moonlight shafted through open windows and gaps in the roof, casting deep shadows. It made Hannah think of her brother's lesson on chiaroscuro. Shadow did not exist without light, and it was up to the artist to capture just how dark shadows could be.
Joey waited for her at their usual meeting spot. He sighed when he saw her, but his face stubbornly kept the concerned frown.
"What took you so long?"
Sera had waited for Koltin's return for hours before giving up. "Sera was excited about the market tomorrow." Hannah shrugged. Her grin was not answered so she dropped it. "Don't be such a sour face. I'm here and we still got time, don't we?"
"Travis will find a reason to be mad."
"Travis can be-" Hannah pursed her lips. "It don't matter. Come."
They ran towards the docks, taking the back routes. The streets were understandably empty. A gentle snow was falling and the air cut through Hannah's clothes as if she wore nothing but a summer shirt. She ran faster. The exertion helped her body regain some warmth. Joey kept up, his long legs carrying him effortlessly. Hannah hated him for his height.
The ancient fishing hut was quiet. They crawled through the slatted window to find their friends already huddled together around a slow-burning fire. The light, surrounded by the group of bodies, cast long shadows along the floor and up the wall like a dead sun.
"Oy!" It was Travis. "You two, late. Should I be surprised?"
Joey balled his fists at his side and dropped his gaze. Hannah stepped forward and placed both hands on her hips. "We here, ain't we?"
"I said midnight didn't I?" Travis moved away from the group. "First ye bring me a meager loot and now ye show up late. You youngins are pushing yer limits with me."
Hannah's throat dried up. Her tongue felt heavy and her heart sped with every step Travis took towards her. Was it because she was afraid he would hit her? Would he hit her? She narrowed her eyes. "I told ye, it wasn't my fault."
"No? But ye still owe me forty fish."
"Travis, the docks be closed. Warehouses locked up."
"I don't care, ye will fetch me the fish tonight. I can't go back to them orphanages without them. I promised them. Would ye hear of a bunch o' kids starving cause of ye?"
Hannah ground her teeth. "No."
"Exactly." Travis smiled, leaning closer to her. His dark features would make a beautiful drawing. "The docks should be empty this time o' night. Ye might find a guard or two, but ye be small and quick. Ye can be in and out in a minute without anyone knowing any better."
"The thieving crews work at night," Hannah retorted. She held his black eyes, having no desire to budge.
"Aint we a thieving crew?"
"We got no territory."
"Don't need territory. We only helping out the Thief King. I told you that."
Joey elbowed her side. "Hannah, we can be quick. I can stand guard. It will be easy with just the two of us."
"See?" Travis patted Joey on the back. Hannah cringed at each one as if they were a hammer to an anvil. "My boy Joey got the bright ideas. Check that ye be back before sunrise, yeah? Don't want them peekays catching ye."
"Has your brother been saying anything about the mines?" Joey asked. He balanced along the patio railing of a bakery, his arms spread.
Hannah watched with a critical eye. "No, why?"
Joey wobbled, his arms flapping until he regained balance. "Bay hasn't been home in days. My mom is starting to pull out her hair with worry."
Hannah chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I can ask Koltin."
Joey jumped off the railing, landing in a crouch between graceless and awkward. He straightened, his cheeks flushed. "Don't bother. I'm sure he's just staying with friends in the Northside. He's done it before."
"He got a lass?"
Joey smirked. "Can't imagine who would put up with his bad jokes."
Hannah barked out a single laugh. "You remember the one about the muffin?" She feigned surprise, covering her mouth with her palm and widening her eyes. "A talking muffin!"
Joey grinned and watched her, the moment seemed to stretch for longer than usual.
"What's your mom saying? About Bayden?"
Joey's gaze left her to stare ahead. They were entering the dangerous part of the journey and caution was needed. "She ain't been saying much to me. Just to me Da. I heard em talking this evening. Sounded like they had someone they thought to talk to." He scratched the back of his head. "They worried. I know they are. They try hide it from my brother and I but..."
Hannah groaned. "I know. They reckon adult worries are not good for children. Sera and Koltin do the same to me."
"It's still bad?"
Hannah rubbed at her nose. It was just like rubbing a cold mushroom. "I been at your house more than my own lately. Barely seen my brother and Sera..." Her steps faltered before resuming. Sera tried hiding her real concerns behind frivolous ones. It may fool her friends, but it was not fooling Hannah, and she doubted it was fooling her brother either.
"Hannah," Joey hissed and ushered her aside.
Hannah was about to ask what his prods were for when she saw the men walking out of a church a few streets away. Dressed in somber garb, with hoods and scabbards at their waists. Hannah knew them to be thieves immediately.
"Ye think they been praying?" Hannah whispered.
Joey shook his head, waiting for the last to disappear before answering. "Dunno. They looked like they were in a rush."
"They did." Hannah snuck out of their hiding place.
"Where you going?"
"To see what's in there. Maybe they just stashed their loot."
"They would have left a guard if they had."
Hannah considered the building. Churches were large, cavernous, with plenty of hiding places. There were crypts and catacombs. Pulpits and prayer dens. "We're small. Imagine the coin we could bring back to Travis? We'd be in his good books." The thought of Travis' face upon seeing her with a sack full of coin gave her a shiver of pleasure.
"It's a bad idea, Han."
"Come on, Joey. You know me." She backed away, smiling widely. She splayed her fingers and seesawed her arms at her side as if they were arms on a scale. "I can talk my way out 'a anything."
Joey did not move. "I'm a terrible liar."
"You can pretend to be mute."
"I'm terrible at pretending too."
Hannah shrugged. "Suit yourself. Wait here."
She trotted away. Not long after she heard Joey's pursuit and he caught up to her at the church's enormous wooden doors.
"At the first signs of danger, we run. Yeah?"
"Promise." She pushed the door, a waft of incense greeted them tinged with the smell of a fireplace. Someone was inside. She pressed a finger to her lips and crept in, Joey at her heels.
The church's vestibule stood empty. An alms box on a pedestal centralized in the small oblong room stood like a sentinel. A russet rug covered the floor and collected the sound of their boots. Two tall doors to either side of the pedestal led to the rooms yonder. Their length tapered to sharp points that ended in the five-pointed star of the church.
Hannah pressed her ears to one of the doors. Its wood was smooth and strangely hot. She heard no voices inside, but the faint sounds of animals scuttling around. Sounds too low and muffled to hear from any distance. Time held its breath as she slowly recognized what she was hearing. It concerned her that there was so many rodents in a single church. So many that she could hear them through the doors. The hairs on her neck slowly rose to a point.
The handle was greasy to the touch. To gain a solid grasp on it she had to cover her hands with her sleeve and then turn the knob. The door sprang open with a loud click. Joey looked at her wide eyed and slack jawed. Hannah gritted her teeth and cringed, but nothing happened. The only thing Hannah could hear was the sound of birds and rats, clear now that the wood was not interfering.
Beyond the door a ripple of movement acknowledged the intrusion to the nave. Vaulted ceilings amplified the sound of flapping wings filling the room. Instead of the usual cooing sound of doves and pigeons, the squawks and cries of crows echoed around them. Hannah peered into the darkness but only saw the occasional flutter of movement.
"What?" Joey asked behind her. "What you see?" He paused. "Can you smell that?"
Hannah could. She could also see, however hard she prayed she could not. The benches were all pushed to the side, against side doors and windows. Whoever had just left had intended there to be only one exit and entrance. The smell of burning and putrefying flesh assaulted her. She lifted her scarf, covering her mouth and nose, but it proved to be of little use. The smell had already infested her senses.
Joey came alongside her and gawked. "Balls..."
Hannah's eyes trailed the erratic movements of rodents and birds on the floor. Among them lay lifeless figures. The air was icy and the calm behavior of the animals set Hannah's teeth on edge. She tried not to see the faces—blue faces. Suffocated faces. Mutilated faces.
She tried turning away. Why couldn't she turn away? Her feet moved of their own accord. One step at a time she came to the first victim. A girl, perhaps a few years older than herself. She hung from the ceiling, her body limp as a rag doll. Her eyes open and bloodshot in a face bruised and bloodied with different shades of disrepair. Her hands were black. Burnt. Her lips removed so that her teeth bared in an ever-lasting sneer. And on her forehead, pushed in until its edges were flush with her skin, lay a coin of blackest night.