Page 5 of A Sword of Ice
For a better world.
For happiness.
For hope.
And because Mana was always listening, Iona knew that someday they would come true.
3
A Promise In An Alleyway
Iona spent most of the day clearing out the glass cage for whatever animal Petey planned on importing. He didn’t tell her; he didn’t tell anyone, and she knew the other five workers in the zoo had asked with as much a burning curiosity as she felt herself.
Once hay was stacked inside, the pool cleaned and refilled, and the ground swept spotless, the sun had already set beneath the smog covered sky and it was time to leave. Iona packed up the tools for the night first, sighing when she reached the shed only to find everything piled in messily.
She knew, perhaps better than anyone, the toll this job could take on the mind. It wasn’t an easy thing, to watch starving animals waste away with little you could do for them other than shovel their shit and refill their bowls with meager meals. The zoo was a dump, the animals all but corpses. Yet it still infuriated her to see the other workers throw everything in the shed without structure.
Henry had thrived on order. Iona had never been thetidiestin her youth. She had dedicated her time to having fun and flourished in mischief and chaos. They were traits that still lived inside her, but they’d been brushed softly aside by Henry to make room for more.
“Who says you can’t enjoy chaos and order in equal measure?” he’d told her as he taught her the proper way to store the shovels. His slender, almost artistic, fingers were strong at the time. They didn’t waver while working with a careful precision, showing her how to organize the contents in the shed.
He’d taught her that it was alright to enjoy the messy side of life, to have a good laugh. So long as you knew how to pick up the pieces of destruction afterwards.
There was something to be said about human wisdom. She’d been older than him, had likely lived a significantly more brutal life than he could ever imagine, and yet his advice had always enraptured her.
Unfortunately, once Petey took over, that particular lesson hadn’t stuck with the others like it had her. There’d been a time when more workers had blessed the zoo. Better animals,healthyanimals. Then Henry died and Petey took all the hard-earned money from his father’s legacy to buy ale, prostitutes, and drugs. He’d fired workers, leaving on only a select few, and single-handedly ruined a once-beautiful place. Along with all of Iona’s plans for the future.
Iona didn’t have it in her to let everything Henry created die. So she kept his memory alive in little ways. Like reorganizing the shed, even when the hour grew late and it was dangerous to walk the streets after dark. Darkness brought trouble, but if she could snuff out the grimness of this place by doing something as simple as arranging the materials, she would.
The truth was, Henry reminded her of the father she had lost so long ago. Mischief shone in his eyes, along with something protective, caring, and gentle. Her father had similar eyes and it was like there was a reflection of her father’s soul inside the human man and it was her job to keep them both alive.
She worked meticulously, just like she’d been taught, the iron of some of the materials inside dulling her senses. So when she closed the door and stepped backwards, she hadn’t sensed him. Iona rammed into a chest, a miasma of ale and piss clinging to the air around her.
She jerked away before Petey’s hands could come down on her and whirled. Her back collided with the door of the shed. Her heart thundered and her fingers tapped her thighs. His image became clearer in the darkness, but she didn’t need to actually see his eyes to know they were bloodshot. His breath reeked of stale ale and bread.
“Petey.” She was glad her voice came out normal. She wasn’t frightened of the human, but she valued being cautious. Because of the way he looked at her. Because she knew how dangerous humans could become within a single instant.
His teeth flashed in the dark. “What are you still doing here?”
“Organizing the shed.”
He leered, scrunching his nose with distaste. “Just like fucking Henry.”
Iona hammered faster against her thighs and bit the inside of her cheek to avoid spewing her own venom at him. She hated that she couldn’t anymore. Back when Henry was in charge, she had been free to say what she wanted, because he’d valued brutal honesty above all else. Things were different with Petey. If her livelihood didn’t count on keeping him content, she would’ve frozen his head off his shoulders years ago.
“I am finished for the day,” she said, wrapping her fur coat tighter around her body. A body she was glad was covered in bulky garments with the way his eyes flicked over her figure. “See you tomorrow, Petey.” She side-stepped, not giving him her back until she was far enough away where she could hear his footsteps if he decided to advance.
She left, taking time to breathe. Puffs of vapor clouded in front of her mouth with every deep breath she took. After closing and locking up the zoo doors behind her, Iona made her way home, rubbing her palms against her arms.
The darkness was alive around her. The city seemed to come to life late afternoon and partied well into the night. It wasn’t loud, but there were familiar, distinctive sounds that she’d come to recognize. Like street urchins running away from whoever’s pockets they pilfered, prostitutes with heeled boots clicking against the ice, the clank of steeled helms rattling, or the soldiers’ sheathed iron swords hitting leather uniforms with every step.
Iona was alert to every noise, as always. She was only a few blocks away from her rented rooms when unfamiliarfamiliarsounds greeted her from between two buildings. Her feet skidded against the ice and she stopped, angling her head towards the noises. The alleyway was dark, but she saw the figures as clearly as she heard the sounds.
Sniffling, tears, slurping, grunts.
A chill sliced down the length of her spine as the figures became clearer, muffled groans and grunts becoming words that made the hairs on her arms stand. Vile. That was a word she’d use to describe what the soldier was saying. What he was doing.
“Please…” a female voice pleaded. A voice Iona recognized. She’d heard it muffled behind the closed door from across the hall. It had greeted her in the mornings through the still-foggy haze of sleep. But there was such sorrow in it now, followed by tears and sniffling. “I can get you the money, if you just give me a little more time.”
