Once Upon a Time Read online

  The Pure

  Once Upon a Time

  by CJ Preece

  Chapter One: Red Rider

  The clouds high above were a deep charcoal grey, tinges of sickly green within them. They didn’t move, or build or diminish, they simply sat, keeping the city beneath in darkness. Empty streets and buildings that seemed too heavy, leaning inward to cast shadows over the ground. Down an alley, moving from the barren wasteland around the city to the barren wasteland of the city, a motorcycle roared.

  The motorcycle was long and sleek and predatory, all curves and scuffed metal, the fairings coming over the tyre like an open jaw. A pack was attached to the back, the gleam of a shotgun barrel poking out from under it. The whole bike hummed from front to end, undercutting the deep growl of the engines. It roared over the broken road, rattling as the old suspension caught on potholes and scattered rubble. Every so often the tyres passed over a bone, shattering it to pieces. Too often there was flesh still attached to the limb.

  The rider grimaced behind her goggles as she rode over what might have once been a full human, the weight of the bike splitting the rotten stomach open, releasing the stench of old meat and filth. The city of Ateer wasn’t exactly a place she liked going to, but she had bounties to collect. She hunched low over the bike, leaning hard into the turns. A long ponytail was wrapped round her neck, a deep scarlet hood pulled up to provide protection from the stinging dust, opaque goggles covering her eyes. Over the back of the bike a scarlet jacket rippled and caught, rising to reveal the telltales shapes of daggers and guns.

  She went deep into the city, past the monolithic tower-blocks where people made their homes. The streets were all but abandoned, though one or two homeless drunks lay in doorways, barely rousing as she sped past them. Even at night there should have been more people than this. Something felt wrong with the city, even worse than it normally did. She couldn’t put her finger on any one thing that was off, but the sense of unease was impossible to miss. She brought the bike up to full speed. Illegal, but there was hardly anyone to stop her this far away from the castle.

  Outside a bar called Blue’s she pulled the bike to a halt and swung herself off, snatching up the burlap sack she had tied to the back. She dragged a shotgun from a holster on the bike and transferred it to her back, then pushed the goggles up to her forehead, revealing a crimson patch over her left eye. A holster on her hip held a revolver, and beneath the jacket she wore heavy leathers, torn in some places to show hint of metal. Old scratches marked the armour, plus a few new ones that had yet to be repaired. She spat into the dirt at her feet and pushed the hood off her face before stalking up to the doors.

  She kicked the door open with the toe of her boot and walked right up to the bar, reaching it before half the clientele had even realised the door was open. The bartender stared at her as she upended the bag and a wolf’s head fell out of it, landing with a dull squelch on the bar. “It’s an Old Breed,” she announced. “I want full bounty.”

  Now she had everyone’s attention. Near the back of the room she saw a couple of hulking figures crouch down lower in their seats, and turned a little so her guns would be more obvious. “Now Blue, not when you’re done with the glasses.”

  The bartender sighed and abandoned the glass he was mopping at with a rag that was dirtier than anything in the place. He came right up to her, steering her gingerly to the end of the bar. “Red, you can’t keep doing this to me. I got clients, important people, who you keep scaring.” Once upon a time his voice had been beautiful, both in singing and speech. But years of cigarettes and alcohol had soured it to a dry rasp.

  “I saw them,” she growled. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but some of your ‘important people’ are also on my list. Below the big catches sure, but they’re hardly small fish.” She leaned in close enough to smell the cheap whiskey on his breath. “Now are you going to pay me or am I going to collect another couple of bounties today?”

  He gulped and turned to the Terminal in the corner. It was an old model, nearly ten years out of date, but it still worked just fine. He tapped a few keys and the display illuminated the sickly green of a successful logon attempt. She turned around to face the room, resting her elbows up on the bar behind her. The move pulled her coat away from her body, revealing a collection of knives; brutal things with hard edges. One of them was duller than the others, but only from the blood stains that stretched along it.

  “Alright.” Blue came back to her. “That’s done, now will you please leave?”

  She nodded to him, then turned her eyes back to the corner. “Always a pleasure Blue, maybe I’ll stop by for a drink later.” She could hear the uneasy shuffling as she strode back out. Always a pleasure.

  Outside she relaxed a little, shrugging out of the hunter for a moment. She stretched some of the kinks from her spine, taking as deep a breath as you could risk in Ateer. She slipped the goggles back on, then vaulted back onto the bike and revved the engine hard, the tyre squealing as she tore away, heading deeper into the centre of the city.

  The road was a mess, but then it matched the buildings. It almost felt like being back in the forest again, albeit one made from metal and brick. The lights were intermittent at best, and as she pulled the bike down one alleyway they disappeared entirely. Night was still a way off, and yet the sunlight was blocked almost entirely, keeping the alley in perpetual twilight.

  She emerged at the other end onto the main road, a straight stretch leading directly to the castle. It had once been ivory white, with trees planted all along either side, cobbled roads and little houses on either side, butchers and bakers and candlestick makers. The original buildings weren’t even standing, knocked down to make room for the looming apartment complexes, office buildings. The corporations pushing the new technology which had formed the face of Ateer. Charming had certainly made his mark on the city since his father’s death. More than that, he had made the city his in every way that mattered.

  She gunned the motor and accelerated past, keeping her eyes fixed on the castle. It sat high atop the hill overlooking the kingdom, but it had changed a lot since Red first set eyes on it. The towers and steeples remained, encircled now by spikes, curving round the outside and giving it the appearance of a skeleton. The main building had been built over in black rock and metal. It didn’t shine any more, sucking the light in instead.

  Down another side road, one that had once held a little cobbler’s shop, and the home of a cunning tailor. Now it was lit in garish signs declaring that happiness was only a wish away, or offering True Love’s kiss, for a price of course. It was busy here, the streets packed with people out for a good time. Most of them got out of the way of the bike as it powered through, and she didn’t mind knocking aside the few who were stupid enough to stay put.

  Red carried on past Muffet’s, The Big Shoe, and High Tower; spared a second to spit outside the door of Big Bad Wolf’s, and gunned the engine all the way to Lips Red as Blood. Round the back she found a space for her bike and chained it up. Out of habit she added the extra silver chain, even though she didn’t really need it in the confines of the city. She pulled a second bag from the bike and slung it onto her back.

  Coming in by the back door kept her away from the full force of the pounding music. If I ever find the genius who decided to put heavy drum beats behind lutes, I’ll add another catch to the bounty list. She gritted her teeth as someone opened a door and the pounding strains of ‘Banks of the Roses’ reached her, hitching her bag a little higher and rushing up the back stairs two at a time.

  She managed to avoid being seen as she stepped into her room and chucked her bag and jacket onto the bed. She was a little more delicate with
her guns, unholstering them and lining them up next to her jacket, followed by the knives, until they covered half the mattress. Finally she was left with the intricate system of braces which held her arsenal in place. She didn’t touch those, instead opening the bag and rifling through it until she found a small bracelet made out of wafer thin metal. It looked flimsy, but at the same time gave off an indefinable sensation of hardness. She touched the bracelet to each of the buckles before placing it carefully on the bed.

  The Holding Charm broken, she undid the buckles and unthreaded each of the belts, adding them to the pile of kit on the bed. Finished with them she picked up the bracelet again and ran it down the front of her shirt before returning it to the bag. She undid the straps on the armour to reveal a thin tunic underneath, covered in dark stains and patches which had been inexpertly sown on. She tossed the armour into the corner and lifted the blood-stained knife up, running a hand over the edge. The stains disappeared instantly, and she chuckled as she put it down again. Show ‘em a blood stained knife and suddenly everyone takes you seriously.

  She took a whetstone from her bag and started sharpening her real knives, the ones that were actually good for hunting with. One of the most important things she had ever learnt was that the kit took precedence over her; if any part of her gear wasn’t ready for immediate use, then her being clean or fed wouldn’t help in a fight.

  The strategically loosened floorboard outside her door creaked, giving her all the time in the world to grab her revolver and duck partly into the cover of the wardrobe as the handle twisted and someone let themselves in. Only one other person had a key to her room.

  “Hello Princess,” she said.

  “Red.”

  The intruder had coal black hair and deathly white skin, which only made her lips shine brighter. The owner of Lips Red as Blood smiled at her. “It’s been a long time; I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “Thought?” Red went back to the bed, but she didn’t put down the gun. “Or hoped?”

  The older woman frowned deeply, transforming her looks from innocent and sweet to regal and imperious. “You still haven’t picked up any manners living in that shack of yours.”

  Red’s expression could have been called smiling, but it showed a few too many teeth, and it didn’t reach her eyes. Leaving the revolver balanced across her thighs she picked up another knife and carried on sharpening, the dull scraping of the whetstone audible over the racket of the club.

  “You’re not going to intimidate me with the silent act and a knife.”

  “Are you going to get all motherly on me again Snow?”

  “And you aren’t going to make me angry either, so don’t try it.” Snow turned round and shut the door. “How long are you going to be here for this time?”

  “Can’t say.” Red finished with the knife and started on the shotgun, not quite pointing it at Snow as she checked the sights. “Probably ‘til I get a good offer.”

  “If it’s money you’re after...”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.” It was meant to sound nonchalant, but Red’s voice was shaking.

  “Well do you at least have money for the room?”

  “Why bother asking when you could have checked before you even came in?”

  Snow gestured to the Terminal in the corner. “Do you mind?”

  “Be my guest.”

  While Snow was logging on Red broke down the shotgun and laid the parts out on the small desk next to the bed. Sparing a glance to make sure she wasn’t being watched she slid another bracelet out of the bag and dropped it down the front of her tunic, then took another knife and started sharpening it.

  Finished with the Terminal, Snow smiled as she walked towards the bed. “You have been busy.” Her smile turned sultry as she bent down to put herself on eye level with Red. “All that money stashed away, you’re sure you don’t want to see some of the new girls I’ve got in?”

  Red flinched ever so slightly. “Not interested.”

  Snow was close enough to whisper in her ear. “You still like blondes, don’t you?”

  There was no tremor in Red’s voice this time. “I think you should leave before I have an accident with this knife.”

  Snow stood up, all business again. “Suit yourself. Just try and let me know when you’re finished, so I can have someone come in and clear up the mess you leave behind.” She left it at that, striding back to the door and swishing out with a flounce that was practically an art-form.

  Red waited several seconds, then let out the breath she had been holding and let herself sink back onto the mattress, her head and shoulders resting gently against the wall. The knife lay forgotten as she delicately stroked the revolver, trying to ignore the turmoil in her head. Some things don’t change. Same old Snow White, same old me.

  After a few minutes she shook herself and stood up, striding to the wardrobe and opening it to reveal a red suit. She took it out and hung it on the back of the door, putting her road-worn jacket in the wardrobe instead. She collected the knives and stuffed them into the bag. She selected one of the revolvers, unloaded the others and slipped the bullets into a small pouch. Under the bed she pulled up the floorboards and revealed a hidden space which she shoved the bag into.

  Carrying the revolver and pouch of bullets, she headed for the tiny bathroom.

  ***

  Ten minutes later she strode into the room with a towel wrapped round herself, the revolver once again in her hand. One day I’m going to live somewhere where I can shower without needing a gun just outside. She sighed and laid the gun carefully on her bedside table, absently drying her hair, which stretched down between her shoulder blades when freed from the ponytail. I’m also going to cut this soon, she decided, frowning at her reflection in the dirty mirror. Far too dangerous in a fight.

  Finished drying, she tied her hair back up, not bothering with the intricate braid she had had before, and got dressed into the suit. Every time she came back Snow expected her to put in an appearance around the club, so that people would know that one of the most infamous bounty hunters in the land was hanging around. It helped her keep an edge over Big Bad’s most of the time, but Red wasn’t planning on getting into any fights with the other brothel this time.

  Of course, what you want and what you get are frequently entirely unrelated. The voice in her head wasn’t hers, but she didn’t want to acknowledge who it sounded like. She checked herself in the mirror, then slipped the revolver into a holster on her back, making sure it wasn’t too conspicuous before heading out the door and back down to the club.

  She got halfway down the stairs before someone called her name, and she turned to see a man and a woman descending after her. “What are you doing here?” She asked as they drew level.

  “Good to see you too.” The woman pulled her into a hug which Red didn’t reciprocate, then kissed her cheeks. “If I’d known you were back I would have stopped by.”

  “Only got in half an hour ago,” she mumbled. The woman’s effortless beauty had always impressed her, though it would have taken strenuous torture to drag that information out of her. “What about you two, why are you here?”

  The man spoke. “Snow told us that there have been some problems with the clientele. Belle is good with the girls, and I’m usually intimidating enough to keep the rowdier customers in line.”

  That was unusual. Lips was one of the safer establishments, as things went. If they were in trouble, things really must have changed. “She didn’t say anything to me.”

  “No offence dear.” Belle had taken her arm and was leading them down the stairs. “But you and Snow have enough trouble saying hello without threatening death, she’d never ask for help.”

  True enough. “She can’t have asked you though, it’s not her style.”

  “She’s worried, more than she wants to admit.” Belle looked back at her husband. “Adam may be enough to keep things quiet for now, but something’s brewing he
re, everyone’s felt it.”

  They had reached the ground floor, and the music was getting too loud to continue a conversation. “I’ll tell you about it later,” Belle shouted over the racket. “Just get in there and do what you do.”

  Red nodded and waited for Adam to draw level with her. Belle disappeared off down a side corridor while the two of them smiled to each other. “It is good to see you again,” he said, laying a massive hand on her shoulder.

  “Likewise.” She had to go up on tiptoe to return the gesture, but it got the two of them smiling.

  “You armed?” He asked, the smile slipping as he got his game face on.

  For answer she turned and lifted her jacket, showing him the butt of the revolver.

  “Good. This might get hairy.”

  “Just like old times for you.”

  “And you.” They had reached the main door. “Ladies first.”

  “Always the gentleman.”

  He opened the door, the music doubling in intensity as they stepped out into the main hall.

  Chapter Two: Lips Red as Blood

  The brothel was built on a simple enough principle. The girls on offer would be scattered around a dance floor in the main hall, or behind the bar serving drinks. Any potential customers could then choose what they wanted to do, whether it was limited to dancing and drinking the night away, or taking the party upstairs with their chosen partners. Enforcers on the door and in the upstairs halls were supposed to make sure no one hurt the girls, and everyone maintained an air of jollity.

  But something was wrong, Red could feel it the moment she saw the milling crowds. Usually they would be gathered in the centre of the dancefloor, enjoying the light show being put on by whichever girl was in charge of the entertainment. But instead there were small pockets of men, one or two girls in amongst them, eyeing the other groups with suspicion. The atmosphere was tense enough that she felt herself dropping into a fighting stance almost unconsciously. Only Adam tapping her on the shoulder reminded her that they had a job to do.