A Dangerous Game

"Annie, the Angel of Darkness," said a mocking, sarcastic voice, which caused Annette Martines to whirl around angrily and glare at the speaker, her brother's old friend, Tino Tonatini.

"You be quiet!" She whispered harshly. "Why aren't you in there with Drago?" She gestured toward the dark looking house. "He depends on you."

"I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you, little Annie."

"It's Annette! Annette! My name has never been Annie!"

Tino laughed. "I'm just kidding with you." Annette continued to glare, but he just continued to laugh. As his deep laughter resonated through the surrounding area, a gunshot rang out. Two pairs of eyes shot to the door of the house where they knew Drago and Benvolio would soon be exiting.

Drago walked out and looked at his pocket watch. "Half past nine." He said nonchalantly to Annette and Tino. "Remember that time."

Tino nodded as Benvolio walked out. "Perfectly clean," he said, "very little blood at all. You, my friend, are a mastermind."

Drago grinned. "I know, I certainly know." He put his arm on Annette's shoulder and the four of them walked away into the gathering night.

*****

"Cause of death was determined to be suicide due to the self-inflicted gun wound to the chest," Drago read aloud to the group inside the tiny flat. He sat down and sighed. "They always think it's suicide."

"Would you want them to think otherwise?" Benvolio asked. Usually he stayed silent, but this matter had been puzzling him for some time. "If they thought it was murder, then they'd come looking."

"But they'd never find me."

"Drago thinks he's Jack the Ripper," Annette piped in as she brought freshly baked rolls out to the three boys.

"I'm better than that, far better at my job, cleaner, more efficient. 'Ole Jack was sloppy: too much blood."

"Too much information!" Annette shouted. The three boys laughed and took a few rolls a piece from the tray.

"So, Drago, what time do they give?" Tino asked, his mouth full of roll.

"Nine o'clock, only thirty minutes off. I got to say, these London police are damn good for police."

"Better than the ones in Rome. Determined time of death? Ten p.m. When did we do the job? Oh, noon." The boys laughed again, revelling in their supposed superiority.

The spring air lulled Annette into a calm. She sat down next to an open window and looked down upon the dirty city of London, when a poor little girl with grime on her face caught her eyes. "Time to come in now, Meghan," said a boy, who suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"But, Andy, I don't want to. It's so beautiful out today. I love the spring."

The older boy hugged his little sister tightly and their mother came outside. "Come in little ones, I've made lemonade." The children then scurried inside the house.

A few tears wavering in her eyes, Annette thought about life back in Palermo, before her sister left, before her parents died. Cecile's dark sober face appeared before her, crying. "I have to get away, little sister. I have to get far away." The next day, Cecile was gone and not too long after this, Drago and his two friends took to the road for the gang they belonged to. Ever since the Martines parents, Angelina and Bernardo, died he had been a hit man for the local branch of his gang. It didn't bother him, or at least Annette didn't think it did. His jobs kept food on the table and afforded many luxuries, like dresses and jewellery for Annette. Things hadn't been perfect, but they were fun and exciting. Each day was an adventure and on the surface, at least, everyone was happy. Unfortunately, it couldn't stay that way.

"Hey, Annie, get the door!" Tino shouted.

Annette glared, but opened the door anyway. "Hello, is this the residence of Drago Martines?" asked a rich sounding man; with an accent that gave the impression that he came from the American south. Since she didn't know him, Annette didn't respond directly. Drago's customers used a specific code. "I wanted to ask him about the Italian sodas."

"Come in, come in," Annette said with a smirk. Her brother would be pleased; this guy looked like he'd pay a great deal. She led the man to her brother and his friends, who looked expectantly.

"Are you Drago Martines?" the man asked.

"I am, and you are?"

"Nathaniel Masterson. I own a casino boat in Louisiana."

Drago nodded, looking pleased. "Club Soda, Ginger Ale, or alcohol?" Annette smiled for she enjoyed hearing her brother discuss business. It was fun guessing what the job would be by what kind of Italian soda was ordered.

"Club Soda…" he paused a moment and then continued, "golden raspberry flavoured."

Drago's eyes widened, "That'll cost you. Even I know the risk of nobility."

Nathaniel nodded once in affirmation. "I'm willing to pay any price if you take the order. I have money to spare."

"Why do you want this?"

"It's an engagement present for my girl's fiancée."

"That's intriguing," Drago said with a smirk on his face. "Now, as far as the delivery goes, I need a name and location."

"Viscount Anthony Carlson IV, Carlson Manor in Rochester."

Drago nodded. "I'll take the order. We'll discuss payment later, but it will be quite high. This will be a complex job." Nathaniel looked somber as he walked out. He obviously felt very strongly about this, and Annette could tell. She had seen many people come to Drago with orders. Some seemed obsessed. Others were nonchalant and didn't seem to care, but those who really wanted it done were strangely serious just as Nathaniel had been. There was a tension in the air that told her it was the beginning of the end and she didn't know why.

*****
Rochester was beautiful. In all of their travels, Annette had never seen such green grass or so many evergreen covered hills. Even the sky and sun looked lovelier in that land. It was perfect. "Welcome to Rochester, Angel Annette," Drago said, handing her a dress box. "Look as rich as you can," he advised. "Tonight we're attending a ball."

Annette squealed as she took the lovely pale pink ball gown out of the dress box. "Oh, Drago, it's beautiful."

"Of course it is, only the best for you." Annette kissed her brother quickly on the cheek and ran to her room in the flat the group was renting to get ready for the ball. She wasn't aware that Drago had snuck off to do the job beforehand and the ball was a ploy to watch the chaos.

He came back hours lately, complaining loudly. Her dark curls halfway in a bun, Annette ran out of her room and looked worriedly at her brother.

"I didn't get him. I can't believe I didn't get him. It was a clear shot and then he ran. God, that kid can run!"

Tino and Benvolio looked up at their boss. "What? You didn't do the job?" they both asked at once, a sense of shock leaking through.

Drago sat down and hid his head in his hands. "No, I don't believe it."

"We'll try again, boss," Benvolio said, trying to be a comfort.

Drago nodded, of course, but he didn't quite believe him. "Finish getting dressed, Annette, we're still going to the ball. Maybe I'll have a chance there."

"I just have to finish my hair."

"Alright, then we'll leave shortly."

*****

Drago led the strange party to the Carlson Manor and though the gate without any trouble because they all did look rather well to do, but when they got inside they were greeted by stares. "Sir," asked an inquisitive servant, "who are you?"

Drago frowned, "Count Martines of Italia." The servant nodded and ran quickly away.

"Count of Italy?" Annette asked.

"Oh, those simpletons don't know the difference. They hear a title and they scammer." The whole group laughed a little.

"So, where is this kid?" Tino asked, looking around at all of the wealthy folk.

"I don't see him," Drago said. "Just enjoy yourselves for now. I'll call you together if I need you."

Annette took that as an excuse to wonder into the ballroom, where she immediately wandered toward a gathering of boys. A good number of them smiled broadly. "And who are you?" asked one of them, with mysterious dark features.

"Annette Martines, a Sicilian Countess. You, Sir?"

"Reginald Livingston, an American nothing, who had a duke for an uncle. My sister's the little rat whose engagement we're celebrating."

"I had been wondering what I was drug here for…"

"So, does you're family know the Carlsons?" asked a red haired girl hanging on one of the boy's arms.

"Yes," Reginald said, "you don't know my family, so how do you know the demons?"

"Hell if I know, I just do what my family tells me."

"Don't we all?" The night drug on and Annette talked for a long time with the group of teenagers. She danced with a few of the boys, including Reginald, but only waltz for that was all she knew, and gossiped with the girls, all the while keeping up a brilliant façade of being a Sicilian noble.

Eventually, Drago came rushing into the ballroom and grabbed Annette by the wrists. "Come on, Annette. There's been an emergency."

As she hurried out of the ballroom with her brother, Annette could feel fear and confusion in the air and became frightened herself. "What's happened?"

Drago didn't answer. He just hurried her away, meeting Tino and Benvolio at the gate. "I missed," he whispered to her. Annette could hear something in his voice that she never had before; her brother was afraid.

Tino shook his head. "It was an honest mistake. Everyone overestimates every once and a while."

"Not me, Tino. I'm supposed to be better than that."

"You're only human."

"No, Tino. This is my game, my world."

While Tino and Drago talked, Benvolio solemnly led Annette away. "Is he going to be okay, Benvolio?" Annette asked.

"I don't know. I've never seen him like this before."

*****

Annette was very worried about her brother, so when he snuck out again that night, she followed. She followed him as he snuck back onto the manor grounds and stalked around for a while. Then a distressed voice, talking rapidly pierced the night. Annette strained to hear, but she could hardly understand a word. She could tell, however, that the voice was talking to what appeared to be thin air.

"I know you're back there, Annette," Drago whispered in an almost hiss of a voice. "Come up here before you give me away." She then snuck up next to him behind the bush.

"You okay, Drago?"

"Annette, I don't know if I can do this. Listen to that kid. I don't know if I can kill someone who is so like myself."

"What do you mean? How is he like you?"

"You probably don't remember our parents, but I still talk to them sometimes. I ask for advice and guidance and such."

"Do they ever answer you?"

Drago looked into Annette's eyes, and appeared to be considering this question. "No. No one does."

Worry filling her, Annette touched her brother's arm. "It's got to be okay. It will."

"What should I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to walk away and tell this kid about Nathaniel, but I can't. This is what I do."

"Where are we going next? Do you have another job lined up?"

Drago looked through the brushes at the sobbing nobleman. A sliver of his old brilliance flickered in her eyes. "I'll have to get a few things in order, but…" he kissed Annette quickly on the forehead. "You're brilliant! Simply brilliant! Angel, run back to the flat. Tell Tino and Benvolio to pack everything. We leave at dawn." She dashed off, hearing her brother drop his gun on the hard marble walkway.

*****

The flat looked like it had been ransacked, as the group hurried to pack. "What kind of job does the boss have that we need to leave so quickly?" Benvolio asked.

"I don't know," Tino said as he threw some clothes in a suitcase. "Annie doesn't even know."

"We're getting out of here, and fast!" Drago growled as he climbed in the window. Tino and Benvolio shared a glance, each dying to ask why, begging to know if the police were on to them; however, neither wanted to question the authority of their leader. After the packing was finished, Drago led them all out to the tiny house of the landlord, where they paid for the flat.

Everything seemed to be moving smoothly until Nathaniel Masterson stepped out in front of them. "Where do you rats think you're going?" Drago ignored him and motioned for everyone to go in the opposite direction. "Come back here. Don't forget: I own you until the job is done."

Drago glared. "It is done."

"Alright, then, why are leaving in such a hurry?"

"A new order."

Nathaniel stepped aside. "Be my guest, but if you slipped up…"

"Drago Martines doesn't slip up." Drago then put his hand on Annette's shoulder and led her away along with the others. She didn't know if Drago had done the job or not, but she didn't care. She just wanted to know where they were going.

"Now, listen good," Drago said as soon as the group was out of Nathaniel's sight. "Tino, you and Benvolio will taking Annette to the gang outpost in New York. I will be going back to Italy. I will meet you there with Cecile as soon as I can."

Annette's eyes lit up and she hugged her brother. "Cecile? You'll really bring Cecile?"

"Of course I'll bring Cecile."

"Then we'll be a family again."

"I know. That's what I want too."

*****

Months passed. Spring turned into a sweltering New York summer. The gang outpost had placed Tino, Benvolio, and Annette in Queens and Drago had yet to come. From the stoop of the brick building they all lived in, Annette sat and again watched children playing in the street. "You can't catch me, Jake. I'm the fastest runner in the world!" shouted a tiny, dark haired girl with freckles, who appeared no older than seven as she drummed on the stoop across the street. The boy she called Jake laughed and chased her down the road and out of sight. Annette smiled brightly, but that smile faded when Benvolio appeared.

"Where have you been?" Annette demanded. "Tino's been all over looking for you."

"I've been at work."

"Wouldn't you have taken Tino with you?"

"Annette, you gotta keep this a secret…"

She visibly brightened and clasped her hands together. "Of course, Benvolio, I'd never tell a soul."

"Alright, then, I got another job. I'm working as a bartender at a bar in Northern Brooklyn."

"Benvolio, that's great. You'll have to take me some time."

"Of course I will. We'll go tomorrow night, if you'd like."

"Why not tonight?"

"I have the night off. I'm not going in if I don't have to."

Annette laughed. "Alright, Benvolio, but tomorrow you're talking me."

*****

The bar was packed full of patrons, all trying to escape the day's anxieties. It was busy, loud, cramped, and dirty, and Annette loved it. She perched on a barstool, while Benvolio took his place behind the bar. "This place is wonderful!" she shouted.

Benvolio smirked at her as he shook a Martini for the tired looking man at the end of the bar. "You want anything, Annette?"

"No. It's fun just watching the people."

"Maybe you'd like to meet the other girls?" She nodded enthusiastically, glad that perhaps, in some way. Benvolio noticed and even understood the intense loneliness she had been suffering without Drago around. Growing up with few companions, only her brother and his two friends to depend on, she had grown used to being alone, but she couldn't stand being without her brother. Benvolio served a few more customers and then led her back to the wings.

"Benvolio!" said an elegant woman with long dark hair that fell in waves down her back. She wore a long black coat, but Annette could tell from the small glimpses of fishnet tights that this girl was one of the dancers. The woman took Benvolio's hands, smirking a great deal, until her eyes fell on Annette. "Who's the child?"

"I'm not a child. I'm seventeen years old," Annette exclaimed, irritated.

"Of course, of course, so little one, how are you with the boys?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is Benny, here, your boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nettie is quite the flirt," Benvolio said, interceding on her behalf.

"Yeah, but I'm willing to bet that Nettie, here, is still a virgin. She may be a flirt, but she has the air of a tease."

Annette crossed herself quickly. Sure she had long been exposed to violence and gruesome murders, but she was kept very sheltered on matters such as that. Having a murderer for a brother usually kept the boys away. "Leave her be, Vanessa," Benvolio snapped.

"So you care about her?" Vanessa's voice was almost malicious.

"Of course I do. She's just like a little sister."

"Then keep careful. Sisters have a way of turning on you." She stormed out to the stage, leaving Annette shocked.

"Are they all that nice?"

"Some are better, some are worse," said a woman with a heavy French accent.

Benvolio embraced her tightly and twirled her around in his arms so that her short black hair spun out in a fan-like way. "Myrtille!"

"Hello, Benvolio," she said, twirling a lock of Benvolio's brown hair in her fingers. "Who's your little friend?"

"Annette Rosalie Martines," Annette said, not too eager to be ignored.

"You Drago's sister?" Myrtille asked.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"I've heard of him, from many people, including my darling Benvolio." She softly kissed his cheek. "Your brother sounds like an amazing person, frightening, but amazing."

Annette nodded, an amused smile adorning her face. "That is true enough." With a smile, Myrtille walked off onto the stage and a loud booming sung in pure French filled the entire area. "You really love her, Benvolio?"

"I think so, Nettie."

"Annette."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think so, Annette."

"Believe it or not, I'm happy for you." She hugged him and walked back into the main room.

*****

Annette readjusted her lace chapel veil as she walked into St. Martin's church. It was a dark, empty building that sent shivers through her as she approached the altar. "Can I help you?" The voice was gentle and kind as was the face of the man dressed in the green robes of 'ordinary time,' according to the church calendar.

"Are you Father Samuel?"

He nodded. "Yes, I am. Who are you, child?"

"Annette Martines."

"How can I help you, Miss Martines?"

"I haven't been to confession since we came to the country." She nodded toward the confessional and then paused a moment, feeling shame rise up in her. "To be honest, I haven't been to church since we came either." She looked down at the marble floor, clearly ashamed of this.

"What do you need to confess?"

"Just that. Will going back to church bring my brother home?"

"I can't guarantee a thing, but I can suggest a simple penance for your sins."

"Yes, Father, what would that be?"

"Say your rosary when you get home, along with a prayer of intercession to your personal patron."

Annette nodded, but felt confused. "That seems too simple."

"Your sin is only minor. I refuse to believe that missing a few masses qualifies you for the penance of an adulteress or murderess."

The reference to murder made Annette's blood go cold. "What if I knew a murderer and I never told him to stop."

"Pray for him. God will forgive anyone if they but ask for it." Again, that confused her. It was too simple.

"After a penance though, right?"

"That is a show of sincerity. What's the use in asking to be forgiven for a sin you know you shall commit again?"

Annette could only think of Drago. He would go to confession as soon as he could after a job. He said that it cleaned him in case he died in-between jobs, but he always kept up his work. "Thank you, Father," she said as she genuflexed.

"Will I see you at mass on Sunday?"

"Most certainly."

*****

"Where have you been Annette?" Tino asked bitterly as she walked into their brick building.

"Confessing," Annette said in a deadpan voice.

"Confessing what?"

"Being an accomplish to the murder of countless hundreds, what else do you think I'd be confessing?" She said this in an attempt to be sarcastic, but Tino didn't quite catch the tone.

In a rage, Tino grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. "What did you say, insolent girl? We've given you all we could and how do you repay us? By jeopardizing our very lives and livelihoods." His hand tensed on the knife he had been holding.

Terrified, Annette freed herself from Tino's grip. "Relax, Tino, I…"

"Quiet! I forbid you to return to the church." His eyes were red with anger and he released the knife from his hand, hurling it at Annette, where it grazed her shoulder and lodged itself in the wall behind her.

She backed up even further from him. "This tears me to pieces, Tino."

"Do you know what tears me to pieces?" Tino calmly went and picked the knife out of the wall as though nothing had happened. "I received a letter from your brother, who's spoiled you all could. He has been tracking his other ungrateful sister, who has become a common prostitute, and he believes that you are an angel, while here you are betraying all he's done for you." He pulled Annette close to him again and traced along her shoulder lightly with the knife as though threatening her and then he set it down on the windowsill.

Annette ran to her room with another word. Slipping her shirt down slightly so that her shoulder was visible, she traced the scratches with her finger and lightly touched the blood, which was slowly trickling from where the knife had grazed her. She did not have the strength to keep tears from overcoming her at the sight of this. "That'll leave a mark," she heard Benvolio say from the doorway.

"Just a little one," Annette replied in a distracted voice.

"What happened?"

"Tino can't take a joke."

Benvolio pulled some bandages from his pocket. Annette didn't even want to bother asking why he had them. "Does it hurt?" He asked as he wrapped her shoulder.

"Not much," she lied. Benvolio smirked as if to say, "don't give me that shit," but he didn't say another word to press the issue. After he finished wrapping her shoulder, Benvolio bowed out of the room as though he had just been serving a princess. He respected Drago so much that this was generally his way.

Annette sighed and laid her head slowly to her pillow clutching her pink crystal rosary out in front of her. "Ave Maria, gratia plena," she whispered quietly. "Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus. Et benedictus fructus ventris tuae, Jesus. Ave Maria, mater Dei. Ora pro nobis peccatoribus. Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen." She was about to start on the others when she fell softly to sleep.

*****
Tino hadn't meant to do it, but he did. He flipped a switch in the brain of a young girl, entirely too used to violence and death. He had set in motion a number of events he hadn't even begun to comprehend went he had finished Drago's latest letter and attacked Annette. He had driven her to stay away from that brick house in greater Astoria as much as she could. He had driven her to duck into libraries, churches, restaurants, pubs, and any other various buildings she could find for hours at a time just to avoid him. One particular night she was at Vinnie Milton's where Benvolio worked, looking particularly depressed. Benvolio could tell. Annette never drank if she was happy.

"Could you pour me some more wine?" Annette asked of a worried looking Benvolio.

"Just a little more. I don't want you to get drunk." Benvolio poured a bit of light pink wine into her glass. He looked at her and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Benvolio. I'm just annoyed with Tino."

"Well, he does have an abrasive personality, but I would think you'd be used to him by now."

Annette shook her head. "I think I'm going to join a convent, one of those strict ones like the Benedictines, where you aren't allowed visits from any men whatsoever."

"You know you'd hate that for a number of reasons. If you must go off and join a convent, Nettie, you have to join an order that is better suited to you're…er…eclectic sort of personality."

Annette shook her head again, this time suppressing a laugh. "So when does Drago say he's coming home?"

"Sometime in early November."

"That's only a few more days. I can't wait until he gets here." After finishing her drink, Annette walked quickly back to their house and was pleased to discover that Tino wasn't home. She set herself down in the parlour room and stared intensely into the dieing fire embers that hadn't been touched since earlier that morning. Her thoughts were drifting all over and she found it impossible to focus on just one thing. With some effort, she fell into a troubled sleep in front of the fire. She dreamed about Tino, chasing her with his knife down the streets of New York, and when she awoke there he was. "Tino?" she asked a little hesitantly.

"Sleep well, little demoness?" he asked bitterly. The way he spoke Annette could tell that he had been drinking.

"Tino, are you okay?"

He moved his hands revealing a fresh new blade. "I asked you a question, Annie, my Angel of Darkness."

Annette backed away, horrified. "Tino, put that away, please."

"Why?" He stood up and walked toward were she was crouched on the floor. "Drago's coming home in a few days and I want to get my kicks while I can."

"Tino, please…" She trailed off, unable to speak as she stifled a cry of pain. Tino had sunk the blade deeply into her arm.

"That hurt, Annie? I'm sure it could hurt worse." He drew the blade upward, causing Annette to scream as loudly as she could. Still he didn't stop. "I'm a master with knives, Annie. Whenever someone wanted a job done Ginger Ale, Drago gave me the hardest parts because he knew my talent." He took the knife, now red with blood and pressed it to her chest, stopping short of stabbing her. Annette felt her breath catch. "Now, to kill you would be a waste. I would I be paid for my time and talents." He paused and looked over his victim that seemed to have ceased being his boss's darling sister and had become just another victim, drinking in her features. "Of course."

Annette was trying hard not to cry, but she had failed at this endeavour. Tears were flowing as freely from her eyes as blood from her arm. "Tino, don't!" Annette screamed as he started undo the hooks in the back of her dress.

"Be quiet, wench," he yelled and slapped her hard across the face. Then he stabbed her upper thigh, causing her to issue another scream. "Oh, what's the use? you're worthless." Finally he sunk the knife repeatedly into her other shoulder until she passed out both from blood loss and emotional strain.
*****

Annette awoke the next morning, tucked lovingly into her bed with her wounds wrapped in fresh bandages. Benvolio was sleeping on the floor beside her bed, but when she tried to get up and thank him, she found that she could barely move for the pain. Benvolio stirred and looked up at her groggily. "Don't move."

"Thank you, Benvolio."

He sat down on the end of her bed. "I'm just sorry I wasn't here to stop him."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. I never saw the intruder."

"The intruder? Benvolio, what are you talking about? It was…"

"I know very well who it was, Annette, but from this moment forward we must say that it was an intruder. We need him."

Annette tried to get up to protest, but fell back with a cry, noting bandages covering places she didn't remember being stabbed. "Mon Dieu! He was trying to kill me!"

"Annette, don't be upset. When I came home and found you there, looking like you were going to bleed to death, I was horrified. I went out and called for a doctor. He was a very kind gentleman, Dr. Grygo. He cleaned you up and wrapped your wounds. That was when I went looking for Tino…"

"Benvolio, I don't…"

"Let me finish, Annette. When I found Tino, he was dead drunk, but he still realized that Drago wouldn't let him live after what he had done. We need him Annette. He has an unrivalled talent with the blade."

"I know," Annette said bitterly, taking offence to this.

"Annette, you've got to understand. You can't tell Drago. I don't know how much you remember, but you can't tell him anything. Drago will kill him and then the gang will kill Drago. Do you want to be responsible for that?"

Annette shook her head. "Benvolio, tell me, because I don't remember much and I have a right to know. Did Tino…I mean he threatened to, but did he…" she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Every time she tried they caught in her throat, but Benvolio subconsciously finished Annette's sentenced and looked at her sadly. "I don't know." Annette tried to cry, but she couldn't. She had no tears.

*****

Drago came to Astoria in early November, just as he had promised, but Cecile was not with him. "My Angel!" he cried, embracing Annette tightly. He didn't notice her cringe when his arms touched her shoulders.

"Where's Cecile?" Annette asked sadly.

"Unfortunately she can't come, for she has gone to be with mother and father."

Annette looked at her brother, confusion clouding her features, but then a comprehension came over her. "How'd she die?"

"One of her customers was a bit disturbed and became obsessed with her. He caused her death." Annette was deeply saddened by this loss of her sister, so as Drago caught up with his two companions, Annette sat quietly, her thoughts drifting around in the space above her head and she was unable to bring them to rest.

"You okay, Annette?" Benvolio asked.

"I'm fine. I was just spacing a bit."

"Could be a fever," Drago said worriedly, "maybe we could take you to the doctor's."

"It's not a fever," Annette protested loudly, "nor any other disease. I am perfectly fine." She then stormed up to her room.

"What have the two of you done to her?" Drago growled, but neither replied.

*****

Christmas that year was a good one for the little makeshift family. Benvolio had brought some of his co-workers from Brooklyn to the dinner and they were there when Annette came down the stairs. "Cute dress, Annette," a blonde young woman named Ada, sitting in the den of the building said lightly, "but you've got to cover these." She adjusted a satin wrap over Annette's scared shoulders. "I had a boyfriend like that once, you've just gotta tell him to cut his fingernails."

Annette shot her a confused glare "Ada, I'd appreciate it if you didn't discuss your escapades with me."

"Just imparting some womanly advice"

"Advice I do not need." Her tone had turned bitter toward Ada for bringing up memories that she did not want to remember.

"You mean to tell me that you and Benvolio have never…"

"Benvolio is with Myrtille, not me."

"So?"

Annette glared at Ada again. "Not everyone acts like you girls do. Some of us have pride in ourselves."

"You don't have any pride in yourself, no matter how much virtue you flaunt around." She jabbed a long fingernail at Annette's chest. Sure the dress was a little revealing and she had tied up her corset as tight as she possibly could in order to make it more so, but Annette didn't understand what Ada meant. "You're a tease. At least I go through with what I lead people to believe.

"That is enough out of you," Drago said angrily to Ada. "You know better than to lie about my sister."

Ada walked to the door of the room, rolling her eyes, then turned and looked evilly at Annette. "Careful not to let your beloved big brother see those little scars, Annie, he won't be too happy to say the least."

Drago looked curiously to Annette. "What is she talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Take off the wrap Annette." She meekly obeyed although she would rather have run. He lightly touched the still healing cut on her arm and looked into her eyes. "There's more, aren't there?" Annette nodded. "Are they all this bad."

For some reason she couldn't lie to her brother. "Some are worse."

"Who did this to you?"

Benvolio had made her swear not to tell and besides it wasn't something she wanted to relive. "I…I don't know."

Drago dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands. "What in God's name are you talking about? Do you know what this person looked like at least? I could get everyone resembling the description."

Annette thought of how Benvolio said that the gang would kill Drago if he killed Tino and shook her head. "It was really dark," she offered meekly as an explanation.

"Angel, listen to me…" He began, but she didn't listen. She ran from the room as quickly as she could.

*****
The church was cold for everyone was long gone, the flickering candles gave very little light as Annette snuck up the aisle. She selected for her sanctuary a dark corner, usually allocated to those too ill to kneel. "Well, this will have to do for now," she said and he voice echoed though the empty church. And for now, it was fine. Annette awoke early, when she heard the morning bells and snuck back in late at night. During the day, she busied herself with avoiding people as she had done before. She generally became a shadow, and she didn't mind so much. She like observing people's lives without them knowing about it, but it didn't last. One particularly cold night in early January, Annette slept later than usual and had a nightmare that Drago and Benvolio had both been killed and she was all alone in the world. She must have cried out because someone heard her.

"Child, what are you doing here?" a curly haired blonde asked Annette, after finding her asleep in her darkened corner.

"I ran away from home," Annette whispered. "I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

The blonde, who Annette now recognized as a nun, sat down beside her, looking sympathetic. "Oh, you poor dear. I'm sure that Father Samuel will let you stay in the old convent. There are already three very nice kids there. What do you think, Steven?" she called to a messy haired man dresses in Dominican brown across the church.

"Absolutely, Hannah, if she can get along with them."

"I'm Sister Hannah," the blonde said, "and that's Brother Steven. Who are you, little one?"

"Annette Rosalie Martines." Sister Hannah smiled and took her back through the lovely gardens to the convent, which doubled as the Astoria Lodging House.

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