The Red King and the Witch

Stolen

The girl was finally asleep.

After nearly drowning in the cut Tommy was surprised she could even stand, given the fight she gave when she woke up.

"She put up quite the fight." Polly stated before walking through the door. Her eyes taking another look at the unconscious woman on the table, her mind leading back to one word.

Trouble.

"She's not a whore Pol,'' Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, this was going to be a long night.

"Tommy I know you're drunk, I can smell the whiskey from here, but you can not lie to me!" She spat out, her arm now reaching across to slap his shoulder accusingly.

"I'm not lying Pol! I saw her me self. She was too close to the water, had her head bent over like she was in pain. I went to warn her but she got scared, hit her head on the wall. It's me own fault that she fell in" Tommy grit out, but he knew that wouldn't satisfy her, she wanted a fight.

"Saw her were Thomas?!" Polly questioned, her hands now folded across her chest, dark eyes narrowed and fuming.

"I told you. The wall of the Cut"

"Where? Which street?" she demanded, her darting back and forth from Tommy the girl.

"Near the Garrison, it's why I brought here." he explained, watching his Aunt absorb the information.

"Was the lane empty Thomas?"

"Yes,"

"And you said you saw her before she was in the water?" She asked again quickly and Tommy nodded.

Polly's eyes widened and wandered back to the unconscious girl, examining her from top to bottom, along with Tommy.

She didn't look like any girl from Birmingham, her dark hair was wet and spread out in tangles around her and despite her ruined clothes and pale complexion, she was a beauty.

She looked Spanish, almost even gypsy. Her skin was golden, her cheeks high and predominant, she looked like angel, yet there was some wildness about her, even in sleep her brow furrowed and was serious.

She was serious enough when that knife was in her hand.

When they had been opened her eyes were a frightening green. In the moonlight by the river they had been dulled with pain and confusion, yet held such intense fury when she woke and began to question her surroundings.

When she had locked eyes with Tommy, he'd felt rather than saw the threat of violence that charged the air surrounding her. That familiar electric pulse is what prompted Tommy to talk her down.

She'd not woken scared, her eyes holding no fear, only focus and determination. As if she been looking for an escape rather than an explanation for what had happened.

Her clothing was odd, as she hardly had anything on. A pair of heeled boots and dark stockings that covered her legs to mid thigh and then ended, whatever else she had on hid nothing. Her coat, lined with sheep's wool, was now soaking wet and ruined.

If she was a prostitute, then she was an oddly dressed one.

But her clothes were not the last issue. Apart from walking home alone, past midnight, barely covered was the fact that the girl's accent was clearly American.

"Thomas I think she might be stolen," Polly muttered, her hands ringing out the rag that she was using to clean the girl's face.

"Kidnapped? Who'd bring an American to Birmingham, they don't bring the expensive whores here Pol." Tommy said with a smirk and Polly's eyes darkened.