The Magpie's Death

Not the Job (2)

"Maggie?" Squirrel's voice was back in his ear, high-pitched and worried. "Mags? You there?"

Tugging the knife from between Lenny's ribs, he sighed at the blood dripping from the sharp, black metal. "Yeah, I'm here." He cleaned off the thick liquid using the dead man's shirt, feeling more inconvenienced than anything else. Slipping it carefully back into his boot, he asked, "Did you hear everything?"

"Yep. Lost Horizon." The tone was lighter now, knowing he was safe. "Guess you were right. Doesn't make sense."

"Yeah." Staying low to the floor, he peeked under the bed, but it was too dark to see the figure that had crawled back into hiding. Partly to Squirrel and partly to himself, he added, "We have a bigger issue."

"Bigger than Lost Horizon killing our mark?"

The Magpie was on his stomach now, palms pressed to the floor and neck twisted to get a better view.

"How is that possible? Mags?"

After hushing his friend, he shimmied closer to the little creature. He had only glimpsed it before, but between the cry it made and the size of its arms, there was no question it was a child.

Turning onto his side, he stared into the abyss, his vision adjusting enough to see the outline of a huddled form. His shoulders were too wide to fit under the low, metal frame, and his arms weren't long enough to reach it. The easiest thing would be to move the bed. Just pick it up like the lid to a box. But like any frightened animal, he needed it to trust him, or he wouldn't be able to leave the building unnoticed.

And what the hell will you do with it then?

Something to think about later. He had to get out of the apartment first and away from this mess. If Lost Horizon were after the person he assumed was its mother, the situation wasn't as simple as overdue loans. It seemed the two men came only knowing about the woman and those men wouldn't be sharing information. If he could leave with the child, maybe it would be safe.

Safe, he thought, chewing on the word. He knew from experience that no child would have a good life with the Suns. It would be a pawn in a meaningless game. That definition of 'safe' was so broad, but in this world – in his world – that was all there was. Stay hidden, stay free, stay safe. He didn't need or want anything more than that anyway. And now wasn't the time to be distracted by pointless contemplation.

After a few minutes of waiting in silence, he gently stretched his hand under the bed. The figure flinched, but didn't try to escape, so he left his palm open.

"It's okay now," he promised in the most comforting tone his deep voice could make. He wasn't someone who smiled, but he tried to make his cold, rigid expression as non-threatening as possible. "Those men can't hurt you anymore."

There was only stillness and he groaned under his breath. How did one simple job turn into this? Dealing with traumatized children - dealing with children period - was not a skill he possessed. He had no idea how to coax it out of hiding.

"I want to help you, but you have to come out first, okay?"

Surprisingly, it shifted, then moved close enough to brush against his palm. Its hand was tiny and warm. After another few moments, it wrapped tightly around three of his fingers. He huffed out a quiet laugh.

"I'm pulling you out."

There was no response. With a slight tug, the thirty-something pounds slid easily across the wooden floor, landing against his chest with a soft bump. He could feel the small body tremble, curling and pressing itself to him. Without thinking, he brought it in closer, securing his hold around its waist as he sat.

From its lips, a hushed whimper broke free. Then two little arms circled his neck, the grip strong from fright. He let out the nervous breath stuck in his lungs and gingerly rubbed the child's back. "It's okay. You're okay now."

In the dim light of the bedroom, the Magpie could see the child huddled in his arms more clearly. A girl. Dirty blond, wavy hair was cut into a messy bob, and she had fair skin and a thin frame. Her face pressed hard into his shoulder. Only her back was visible, but based on her size and weight, he was certain she was young. Probably no more than three or four years old. The blue-checkered sundress she wore was dusty from crawling under the bed, but otherwise, it looked almost new. A barrette covered in flowers pinned some of her wild strands behind an ear and she already had a small stud pierced into the lobe. Even under these circumstances, in this dingy, abandoned place, she'd been well-cared for. A new and unpleasant weight pressed at his chest knowing that the battered woman in the living room had loved this girl.

"Maggie?" The delicate voice was a whisper in his ear and he responded with a low hum. "Is it okay to speak now?"

"Yeah." Taking in a breath, he filled his tight lungs and forced the heavy feeling away. It was clear he wouldn't be seeing the rest of the girl any time soon, so he continued to rub her back. "Squirrel, I've been here too long. Can you meet me at the loft?"

"What happened over there? What's the bigger issue?"

"No time. I'll tell you later."

"Mags, wait, I-"

He pressed the bud in his ear and the voice was gone, cut off along with the connection. The all-too-familiar metallic smell was thick in his nose now and he couldn't linger. Holding the shaking bundle in one arm as he stood, he realized she was smaller than he expected. Scrunched up against his six-foot-two, muscular build, she fit snugly in the fold of his elbow. Her dangling feet didn't even reach his waist.

So many questions raced through his mind, but now wasn't the time. As former Lost Horizon, he knew if those men didn't check in soon, more would come looking.

One problem at a time.

There was no need to clean up. He had no records and his DNA and fingerprints weren't in any database. Still, he couldn't walk the streets like this. Even in this rundown area, there was bound to be a CCTV or traffic camera somewhere. Then cameras in cabs, cameras in the subway – he had to cover the child up. What if someone recognized her? And if the Suns got even a glimpse of her, she wouldn't be safe and this would have been a waste.

With the girl hanging from his neck, he rummaged through an old, standing wardrobe near the bed, then a three-legged dresser on the far wall. The selection was sparse. Taking a closer look around the room, he noticed the place was mostly empty. This was an emergency hideout, not a home.

Thankfully, the girl didn't lift her head as he navigated around the bodies and the dark pools collecting beneath them. After a quick rinse to wash the blood from his hand, he scanned the rest of the tossed apartment and found a long raincoat hanging beside the door. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Sitting on the nearest tipped chair, he moved his support and let the girl land on his lap. Her arms squeezed tighter around him. The large hood easily concealed her tiny head, engulfing her and flopping over his shoulder. He wrapped the rest of her body the best he could, cocooning her in the slick polyester, then lifted her up again.

Securing a black mask over his nose and mouth, with the oversized hood of his black sweatshirt shadowing his face, he quietly opened the door and peeked down the hallway. The sounds were the same as before, muffled echoes of the poorest and worst of humanity, so he hurried to the stairwell, then down to the street. He didn't dare use his phone. With casual but quick steps, he walked a few blocks until it was busy enough to catch a cab.

The image of the two must have been strange. In early March and decent weather, they were bundled up while the rest of the population was eagerly welcoming spring. Eyes followed them as they moved, but he found a few well-timed and particularly hoarse coughs made the cab driver, subway passengers, and passersby keep their distance. It was his favorite trick. No one liked a sick person.

After taking a long and roundabout route to prevent anyone from tracking the pair, they stood in front of an old warehouse in the South Bronx. Few came to this old, disused factory district, yet it wasn't abandoned enough for revitalization. A perfect place to hide out.

The girl had finally stopped trembling, her breathing calm and steady. The Magpie let out a sigh and headed into the building.