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Her heart was racing at speeds she never thought were possible. The speed at which with it was bumping against her chest was physically painful, and her breath came in short spurts. Everything in her called out so just curl up in a ball and wait for everything to be over. She was in the room already, as she kept telling herself. That was the hardest part.
For whatever reason, it was way more unusual for maids to go into rooms than to come out of them. Maids going in were looked upon and judged, while no one batted an eye when they left again – given it was done quietly, which she was.
She would have never done this if it wasn’t for her ability to be quiet and to be unseen. Still, sneaking in a closed room in broad daylight and searching for documents was basically a suicide mission. She was proud of the iron control she had over her brain, managing to keep it calm and rational, but her body never listened to her. No amount of breathing exercises or meditation before going to sleep ever helped her to keep her heart quiet, her breathing controlled, or her body from swimming in sweat, nearly running into her eyes, pooling in her armpits and back of her knees, or making her hands dangerously slippery. When she first came up with the plan, she was worried that someone might suspect something if they saw how she glistened from sweat after leaving the room, but this fear proved to be unfounded quickly. She joined the black jackets at the start of the summer, with the sun burning down on the uncooled houses for more than half the day. Mixed with the heavy layers the maids wore and the physical labor they had to perform, it wasn’t unusual the be drenched in sweat, before breakfast for the men was served.
So, she thought, while opening one of the filing cabinets, there was nothing to worry about. The hard part, getting into the room unseen, was done. She would get the girls the passports as promised and then continue with her work, slaving in the kitchen from sunset until deep into the night, until the debt was paid and she could leave and never look back.
After months of working for the men, she knew that the perfect time for her plan had come, when the other maids started talking about the return of The Boss, of The Devil himself. The maids darned not to even whisper his name, but the men were less shy about it: Capricorn. Capricorn is returning, they told each other, not caring for the maids that walked past them, after taking care of some important business elsewhere. He would permanently live with them again. And, another man added, they would throw a big feast in His name. To celebrate the homecoming of The Evil himself.
“Fuck”, she whispered in frustration, while shutting close another of the filing cabinets. Maybe it was the perfect time for her search, but it would soon be over. She couldn’t dare be gone too long. The chaos of His arrival, together with a fresh batch of men on his side, made it possible for her to leave the kitchen unnoticed. If they should ask where she’d been it would be easy to lie - A man came in and asked me to help carry some plates. No, I never saw him and don’t know him. I just did it. I’m not sure if the others saw, he just picked me, because I was closest to the door. It was still risky, but doable. Things like that happened and most men didn’t know the girls well enough, especially not her, since she rarely left the kitchen. They would just shrug and grunt and then continue to prepare melas like she did the last days.
She balled her hands into fists while turning away from the cabinets. None of them were of interest to her but the girls had been so sure that their passports would be in there. She shouldn’t have trusted them, she thought, before turning to the big wooden cabinet. It was filled to the brim with folders, she saw after she carefully opened it, fighting against the scream of anger in her chest. She did not have time to check them, she was gone too long and had to – She paused, knowing that something went wrong. She knew it as clearly, as she felt the hand on her wrist not even half a second later.
The stranger yanked hard on her arm, slightly turning her in the process and pushing her towards the open cabinet once she was thrown off balance. The wooden boards of the cabinet slammed hard into her back, while it trapped her left arm behind her. A sound of pained surprise escaped her mouth, which was quickly hidden behind a big and rough hand, pressing down on her face. She could smell the sweat on it, as well as something more unpleasant, like gas or machinery oil.
He wasn’t very tall, barely taller than herself, but it still felt like he was towering over her, staring down at her like a hungry cat looked at a mouse, trapped beneath its claw, the daggers hidden in it and not drawn yet, but always remembered. His features were regular and sharply cut, surprisingly bright eyes flashing at her murderously from deep sockets. Like most of the men he wore his dark brown hair short, slicked back, with some rogue hair strands lose above his forehead; despite the heat, he wore the signature black jacket and a white shirt. A white shirt.
Suddenly, she knew who was in front of her, and again, she knew what would happen next. The metal of his knife was slightly warm but felt blazing hot on the delicate skin of her exposed neck.
She stared at the stranger, her heart even quicker than it was before, breathing now nearly impossible.
He arrived only a couple of days prior to make sure that everything would be perfect for Capricorn's arrival that afternoon. He was not feared the same way The Devil was, the other men seemed in fact to be amused by him, making jokes about his necklace and his devotion. But she could hear the edge in their voices, even when laughing about him.
There is something off about him, an older girl in kitchen whispered to her, while cutting up carrots and potatoes, even worse than with the others. I had to help him with something once and just standing next to him gave me a chill down my spine. Most of the men here are… men. You, know? Bad men but it be easy to imagine them doing something else instead of working for Him. But he… he seems to reek of violence. He’s screaming it to the world, even when he is quiet.
“Well, well, well, what kind of little bridie do we have here?”, he whispered, while pushing the blade against her with more force. “I don’t think I have seen you around here before.” He stared down at her, unmoving except for a slight twitch in his upper lip as if he was fighting against a grin. The smile was not necessary; it was obvious in his eyes how excited he was to have her at his mercy.
For a moment she thought of struggling. Screaming, kicking and punching him. Do something instead of staring at him. But she knew when a fight was a lost cause. Calling staying still a tactic was also so much easier, than admitting to herself that something in her froze in that second before she felt his hand. The fear she felt when looking at him was different from the hot and burning anxiety she felt a minute ago. What she felt, was ice cold, draining every drop of blood from her limps. The sweating stopped, leaving her wet face pale and her hands shaking. She wouldn’t have been able to escape from him even in a less dire situation.
He moved the knife again, before removing his hot hand from her face and placing it on the shelving right next to her head, trapping her completely.
“I-I’m sorry, I-“, she tried, turning her head away from him within the little space she had.
“You what,” he interrupted. The only answer he received was a low whimper escaping her, while she closed her eyes in panic. “Oh, the little bird is scared? Don’t you want to sing me a pretty song about how you were sent here? That you did nothing wrong and even if you did, it wasn’t your fault at all?”
Suddenly his breath was hot and minty on her cheek, causing her to open her eyes again. He was close, way closer than he was a moment again, his body nearly touching hers. “Because, little bird, I have heard it all. And I won’t lie to you, I enjoy hearing it. I enjoy hearing the lies and tales, trying to convince me to let you go free and to not trim those wings.” Basta leaned back again, to give her a quick once over. “It gives me time to imagine what all I could do to you, while you fight with your tongue. So, come on. Let me hear your tale.”
Basta had no reason to toy with her, other than pleasure. The other kitchen girl had been right, he radiated how much he enjoyed the situation and how every single of his nearly whispered words made her quiver, while her knees were fighting to not give in.
“You disappoint me, bird,” he said after she failed to answer him. “But let me guess. You were searching for your passport, right? I have seen and punished enough of you winged beasts in this room to know that’s what you are looking for.”
“A-Are they here?” Could I have ever succeeded?
“No, birdie. They aren’t. They are nowhere you could ever find them,” he answered her, the smile on his face nearly as sharp as his blade. She could not help herself but sigh in relief when the metal finally was gone from her – even while knowing that Basta was only readying himself.
Tears were pooling in her eyes as she stared up to him. Basta tore his gaze from her to lovingly observe the knife. If it could tell tales, it would probably scream of misery. He wrenched his eyes away from the blade, his light eyes flickering in excitement, before slowly bringing the knife to his lips and kissing it almost sensually.
In horror, she felt her body reacting to the sight before her. She tried to hide it, but there was no way of stopping the blood that was rushing up to her face; just pale with fear, she felt it blossom. The blush started on the apples of her cheeks, before spreading over her whole face, her ears and her neck. Wherever the blush went, she felt her skin prickle, as if it was tickled.
Her spine was prickling as well, the sensation running down from the crown of her head, down to her lower back where it sizzled out into her weak legs.
Something about the intense eye contact, his physical closeness, and the pleasure with which he kissed the blade had caused this sudden uprise in unexpected emotions in her, leaving her utterly mortified.
Basta seemed to need a second to understand the sight before his eyes. Her face was way too pale and the blush too bright for him not to notice. The pleasure and arrogant sadism slowly melted from his face, to be replaced with confusion, that started to taste of sadness, the longer it lingered on his sharp features. He had to be in her age range, she suddenly thought, her mouth slightly open, desperately hoping for some words to come and explain.
The tense silence between them stretched, her face still red and glowing, while she waited for his next move.
The knife hung loosely and almost forgotten in his hand. His eyes kept wandering over her face as if he could not trust himself, as if he was looking for a reason to explain the blush on the girl's face – despite the obvious one.
“Out,” he suddenly whispered.
“What?”
“Get out of here, little birdie! Get back to your work,” he repeated, this time actually taking his arm away from next to her head and slightly stepping to the side, thus freeing her from the prison that his young body had been mere moments ago. “Out of here. Now.”
She looked at him in concern. Maybe this was part of the punishment, she thought, he would actually chase her like a hound the fox, giving him even greater satisfaction once he finally had her in his strong hands. Or he would tell The Devil. He moved slightly, making her sense of flight finally set in. She run out of the room and down the still empty hall, all the way to the hellish hot kitchen.
Only there her blush slowly started to fade.
Her time as a maid in the secluded village had never been very pleasant, but after the day of His arrival, it became pure torture. Apparently, He intended to stay, bringing dozens of men with him, tripling the work for the girls, while they stayed the same numbers and changing everything with His mere presence.
Before He had arrived, it was easy to forget that she was working for criminals. This was merely an outpost, with a few bored men and some weapons. If they did any dirty work, they did it somewhere else, the only proof being the blood on their trousers and shirts.
Now the violence was everywhere. It bubbled in the unbearably hot late summer sun, to cook over every single night, leaving her shaking in her bed from the screams and the laughter outside the maids’ window.
And yet, it wasn’t the worst part. Far from it. She knew what she agreed to when she accepted the deal. Work for the criminals, get freed of the debt. Maybe she had chosen differently if she knew that The Devil himself would be there, but she doubted it.
She certainly would have chosen differently if she had known about Basta beforehand though. Despite her rarely leaving her designated spot in the run-down kitchen and him not coming there, she seemed to run into him constantly. Every time she walked down a path, he seemed to stand guard there or walk by as well, one of the greasy boys in tow. He was behind every corner and inside every room, she carried food into.
The next two days after their encounter in the office, she hadn’t been able to stop shaking. The other girls had commented on it and tried to comfort her as much as possible, but she refused to explain what happened and pushed their hands away. She needed to be on her best behavior. The chances of good behavior helping her when push comes to shove were slim at best, but she had to keep her hope somehow. It was only a matter of time until some of the men waltzed into the kitchen, or someone grabbed her away on her way to the gardens, bringing her to the conclusion of her penalty.
There was no way that she could escape the situation unharmed. Not when she constantly ran into Basta, reminding him of her existence. He never reacted when they saw each other. Like most men, he rarely acknowledged the existence of the girls at all. Other men sometimes whistled after them or made crude comments, but he only ever barked orders in their direction. And the staring. Basta didn’t say a word when she was close, not a muscle of his body or face moved, but she felt his gaze heavy on her. It followed every move of her, cutting her open as painfully as his knife would. Yet every time she turned to him, he looked somewhere else. It was enough to make her wonder if she only imagined it. But back close to him, she felt his gaze so intense and hot on her, it was nearly enough to make her shameful blush return.
After a few days, the shaking stopped and after some weeks, she felt less on edge again; she almost felt safe again.
This thought crossed her mind again, as she heard his voice, barking into her direction: “You. Come one. We need an extra pair of hands.”
For a second, she couldn’t move. Her right hand still grabbed the knife, she used to cut up the fruits, while her left hung aimlessly in the air. Her heart started beating so violently in her chest, that the sound of the busy kitchen around her went quiet under it. All she could see was his cold face and the burning hot eyes in them. Basta was lying about needing her and they both knew it.
She nodded, before laying down the knife and washing her hands free of the sweet juices. The other girls all threw quick glances in her direction, as she walked past them, her wet hands shaking again. When she was nearly next to him, he turned around and walked out into the dark night.
Usually, she would be in bed already, sleeping tight after a long day, to stand up with the sun and make breakfast, but it was a special night. Some small feast was happening, requiring multiple courses, larger quantities of food, desserts, and late snacks, forcing some of the kitchen maids to be up way later than usual. The perfect night to get one of them alone.
Basta did not say a word in front of her. With his quick pace, he kept walking into the night, away from the kitchens and the living quarters, into the abandoned village.
She tried to follow him as quickly as she could, but the mixture of tiredness and fear weighted like chains on her and made her slow and unsteady. At some point, he simply grabbed her arm and pulled her with her. It had been a long time since she last prayed, but it seemed like an appropriate point in her life to start again. Without a clue where they were going or the slightest idea, of what he might want from her, it was all she could do. Be on her best behavior and pray, that the path was not a one-way ticket into her doom.
They did not walk for a long time, that she noticed – even if every single second felt like a needle in her brain – only until the point where most of the buildings around them were collapsed. Most of the dusty streetlamps the men installed for a more convenient nightly patrol were burned out, but it was enough to still see him clearly. Basta looked down at her for a moment, before pushing her against the next wall, his left hand next to her face again.
Basta used his right hand to fumble with the pockets of his pants, slowly pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a small lighter. Every time his hand brushed idly along the knife, her heart missed a beat, and her knees gave in a little.
He only spoke up once his cigarette was lit, and he took a deep drag of it. “Girls that put their fingers where they don’t belong might end up losing them,” he explained to her while looking at his cigarette. “Did you see your little friend the other day? The one that got caught trying to find her ID?”
“Y-yes.”
“I did that,” he explained proudly. “No matter how they look, no one stays pretty after I am done with them.” His voice was low, nearly vibrating in her ear. “I don’t mind that. Things that are this stupid don’t deserve to look pretty.” Basta tore his gaze from his smoke to stare at her again. “I know exactly what I could do to you. While I enjoy placing the scars in places, where they are well-seen, it’s not the most important thing. It’s about making sure little birds won’t ever dare to touch things that aren’t theirs anymore – while still being able to work of course. No use in leaving them useless.” After a last long drag of his cigarette, he threw it behind him into the empty darkness. “Unless of course, it doesn’t matter if they are still useable afterward.”
The knife snapped up so quickly in front of her face, that a stressed shriek escaped her, while she pushed into the wall behind her, trying to hide in it. But when she looked up into his face again, something was strange. She slightly frowned her brows, trying to make sense of what was right in front of her. There was no bloodlust or excitement for violence in his eyes, far from it actually. The faint strain around his lips and the way he crinkled his eyes made him look nervous, if not straight up unsure of himself.
Suddenly, she noticed another thing. She would be able to escape from him. He did not completely box her in against the wall, leaving enough room on his right for her to run out from under him. It was a very different picture from the man that had managed to leave her without any option for fighting some weeks ago.
Maybe that was the reason he had to wait to get her alone somewhere in the darkness. His actions weren’t according to protocol, making him nervous. The fear in her did not leave her, but it slightly changed. In it, a tiny bit of curiosity blossomed, leaving the same taste in her heart, as her blush had.
“If I had wanted it, you would have suffered through the same as your little friend did,” he kept on explaining while moving slightly closer to her. Under the tobacco smell, she noticed the mint smell from him again, it tasted strangely intoxicating. “Even worse, probably. Capricorn would have loved to punish someone during his welcome. I’m sure he would have thought of wonderful punishments to do to a thing as pretty as you.”
“I agree,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a breathy whisper. “And I am deeply grateful that you didn’t tell on me.”
“You are, little bird?”
“Yes. Very much.”
Basta smiled slightly. It looked strange, if not unpleasant on his sharp face. “Good. You should be. I think a real thank you is in order here.”
Her heart stopped for a moment, her mind running wild at all the things this sentence could mean. But when she expected him to loosen his belt next, Basta only held the knife in front of her face. Now there was no denying that his face was painted with insecurity, even if he did his best to hide it.
“Thank you how exactly?” She asked while looking straight into his light eyes, still aware that she would be able to escape. She was quite sure that he would not come after her if she did.
Basta leaned closer to her, with a smirk on his face. His mouth nearly touched her ear, as he purred into it: “Think of something, little bird.”
After he stood up straight again, her gaze flew between him and the polished blade of his knife a couple of times. The sudden understanding of what he seemed to want, was accompanied by a twitch in her lower stomach.
Carefully and slowly, she wet her dry lips with her tongue, making sure to take her time with it. Basta watched her intently, his breathing growing deeper. She looked directly into his eyes, as she leaned forward to the blade.
When she was just a whisper away from touching it, she took a deep breath and said: “Thank you very much.”
Basta said nothing, but took a loud and jerky breath, as the pursed her lips and pushed them against the blade. She felt his hand that was holding the knife shaking ever so slightly, as the hairs coating her body rose, as if she were hit with electricity. For the seconds she kissed the knife, she could hear both their enhanced breathing, as well as the night around them, could feel the wall, her dress, the summer wind on her sensitive skin – but all she could see were his eyes. They seemed to burn all the way through her skull, leaving the nerves running all through her body on fire, with the burning pulling in his stomach, as the flames slowly licked down deeper in her.
She ended the kiss with a tiny smacking sound, loud and vulgar in the dark of night. Her chest rose way too quickly, as she licked her lips again. Basta had not moved an inch, his arm with the knife still stretched out to her. She could see now just how much it was shaking.
“I know it did not get to taste blood today, but I still hope I could show how thankful I am,” she said, as the silence became too much for her. The thought of her blood dripping from her lips onto the polished metal, made her heart twitch in twisted excitement, causing her to turn her finally turn her face away again.
“Yes,” he said after a few moments. The blade of the knife snapped back into hiding before he pocketed the knife as a whole again. “Yes. For tonight, this will be enough.”
“F-for tonight?”
“Maybe I’ll need you to prove that you are thankful again in the future,” he explained to her, his voice quiet. “But for tonight, you have proven yourself beautifully, my little bird.”
“Thank you,” she just said, while looking at his lips. She tried to ignore how hers started to tingle, just by looking at his.
“For tonight, it’s time to get you back to your nest, little bird,” he whispered.
She nodded and pushed herself off the wall, her knees nearly too weak to carry her.
The silence around them was thick as they walked back, and tasted faintly of delicious shame, mint and metal.