The Promise I Made

I remember the day Maria’s heartbeat drummed against my ear as we huddled together in our prison. Our frail bodies shivered in the thin clothes the bad men gave us. We clung together for warmth and comfort in the basement that reeked of sweat and fear.

Dozens of other thirteen-year-old girls shared the space with us. Two per cot. A bedspring jabbed me in the back, similar to the bed Maria and I shared in the orphanage before we were sent here.

One of the bad men stood guard at the door. He was so big that the snake tattoo on his head almost bit the ceiling. He didn’t talk to us, but we could sometimes eavesdrop on him and his boss.

Tomorrow, we would be sent away. To marry other bad men.

“Remember what we promised, Gabriela,” Maria whispered.

“But they said—” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. We are not going to marry them. Remember who we’re going to marry.”

“Someone we love.”

“And then what are we going to do?” she said.

“Make a home for all the orphans in Nova City.”

“Exactly.” She grabbed my hand and held it over her heart in the same way we had sealed that promise before. “So no matter what, we won’t marry one of them.”

I remember the next morning when the curse-eaters broke in and attacked the bad men.

Maria realized what was happening before I did. She tried to fight, but the snake tattoo man threw acid at us and laughed when we screamed. My face burned with a pain that tore its talons through my skin.

He pushed Maria and the crack of her head hitting the ground will forever echo in my memories.

I remember the sound of her final heartbeat.

The fighting ended while I still clung to her, begging her to wake. A man named Peter pulled me away. Even then, hiding his face behind a gold curse-eater mask, I knew he wasn’t like the monsters who had imprisoned me.

He let me hug him. And his heartbeat comforted me.

That was five years ago to the day. Since then, I’ve joined his group of heroes and renegades. I’ve grown to call them my family. And I’ve planned out small gifts for each of them today so they know what they mean to me.

But I haven’t yet fulfilled my promise to Maria.

I sit at a dining table packed with the other curse-eaters. Peter is at the head, explaining everyone’s missions for the day, his hair glowing golden under the overhead light. His voice sounds tired, weakened by the grief of recently losing his wife.

My boyfriend Akira touches my knee under the table. His stern gaze pierces through his glasses, but his touch is gentle as his fingers find my hand and the iris resting in my grip.

Peter dismisses everyone. The other curse-eaters flow through the doors to go save the day, but Akira and I stay.

“Is something wrong?” Peter says, rubbing his uneven beard. Long nights have made their mark through the dark circles under his eyes.

I set the iris on the table in front of him.

“We have an offer for you,” Akira says. He nods to me. “Gabi and I will take temporary leadership of the curse-eaters while you take a break to spend time with your children.”

“Well, Akira will take temporary leadership.” I smile. “I’m just moral support.”

Peter looks between us, brow furrowed. “Why would you…”

“Even heroes need rest,” I say.

“We’ll be okay without you for a few days,” Akira says. “Sir.”

Peter chuckles and sinks further into his chair’s embrace. “You kids are that eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes. Get out of here, old man.” Grinning, I wrap my arms around the man who gave me a safe haven from the monsters in the world. “You’ve taken care of us. Let us take care of you.”

He pats my head. “If you’re sure…”

“We’re sure.”

-----

For an underground group of rebels who would be executed if caught, we spend a surprising amount of time in broad daylight.

Akira and I head into the city wearing sweaters and jackets as shields against the crisp spring winds. Our masks are hidden in our pockets. We only wear them when in a direct confrontation to hide our identities. Out in these thick morning crowds, the masks would call too much attention.

We’re also wearing our ASAs—belts that conjure a katana at our waists with the press of a button. Although my fighting skills are close to none.

I pass Akira his gift: a cup of his favorite coffee. Toffee nut dark chocolate with salted caramel on top. It was almost impossible to get my hands on.

His eyebrows lift in surprise when he recognizes the scent. “How did you find this?”

I grin. “Nothing can stop a woman in love.”

A small smile cracks his stern expression. It’s enough to make my heart tumble. “Thank you,” he says before taking a sip.

We’re walking slightly downhill, toward the ocean far in the distance. The sunrise glitters off its waves, a welcome distraction from the neon ads leaping for attention on nearly every skyscraper we pass.

“You seemed distracted this morning,” Akira says.

My smile fades. “I was just thinking about…things.”

“Tell me about ‘things’ after our first job. For now, you need to focus.”

He may sound blunt, but he’s right—it’s dangerous to be distracted on a mission.

He’ll make a good temporary leader.

We stop across the street from our target, a ten-story apartment building. Mr. Anderson lives on the second floor. He risked his neck to give us information on NovaCorp supply routes, and warned us an hour ago that they might have sent a Knight after him.

I turn my back to the building. Akira faces me, standing inches apart, but his eyes analyze the apartment. The passing pedestrians will think we’re just an ordinary couple infatuated with each other.

It’s an easy cover to maintain when he’s so very striking. His auburn hair has recently grown long enough to put in a tiny ponytail whenever I feel like messing with it. But today it just hangs in waves over his ears.

Great skies, I’m distracted again.

“Something seems wrong,” he says. “I’ll go around back. Knock on the door in one minute.”

He heads through the alley between the apartment and the neighboring building. I pull out my phone to watch the time. When he says one minute, he means it.

At forty-five seconds, I climb the exterior staircase and slip my mask over my nose and mouth. At sixty, I knock on the door.

The door creaks open. Broken plates and vases litter the floor of a kitchen. They form a jagged pathway to an island counter, and three people past it.

Mr. Anderson, collapsed on the floor, red stains blooming over his white shirt.

A four-year-old girl clinging to his arm.

And a Knight with a bloody sword in his hand.

All three of them look toward me. “So it is true,” the Knight says, straightening his white uniform jacket. “You’ve been consorting with curse-eaters, Mr. Anderson.”

Akira bursts through a door behind them, already swinging his sword. The Knight jumps backward, out of reach. The two of them exchange attacks in a deadly dance.

Broken glass crunches under my feet as I run to Mr. Anderson and the girl. I drop to my knees and press my hands to his chest. Warm blood gushes over my fingers. I swallow my vomit.

“H—Hold on, mister,” I say. “You’ll be okay.”

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but only a weak cough comes out. His eyes drift toward the girl. She must be his daughter. Strands of blond hair stick to the tears on her cheeks.

I feel Mr. Anderson’s heart stop just like Maria’s did.

“Duck!” Akira shouts.

A blade whooshes over my head and slices the nearby island counter.

I scoop the girl into my arms and run. The Knight takes another swing at us but Akira is on him again. Akira will protect us.

The girl screams and squirms in my grip, but I hold her tightly to my chest and dash back to street level. I stop in the alley and lean against the brick wall to catch my breath.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Let me see Daddy!” She’s sobbing, garbling her words.

“I can’t, honey. He’s—”

“Daddy!”

I slowly rock her while she cries. The need to comfort her seems to calm me, steadying my shaking arms. Pushing my own worry into the back of my mind. I hum a random tune and assess her. No injuries, but her clothes are stained with her dad’s blood. There’s a stuffed animal clenched in her tiny fist.

“Who’s this?” I say, touching its matted fur.

She sniffles. “Mr. Rabbit.”

“Hi, Mr. Rabbit. Do you like flowers?” I pull my braid over my shoulder and show her the small plastic daisy attached to my hair tie.

“He does.” She lifts the stuffed animal and lets his head bop against the tie.

I slide the tie onto Mr. Rabbit’s right ear. My hair slowly fans out from the braid. “My name is Gabriela, but my friends call me Gabi. What’s your name?”

The girl studies Mr. Rabbit, still sniffling, but calmer. “Iris.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Just like the flower.”

Akira runs into the alley and stops at my side. He pulls his mask down to hang around his neck. “Are either of you hurt?”

I shake my head. He seems uninjured as well, but he has a reputation for coming out of battle unscathed.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” His brow furrows. “I’m sorry that he…”

“So am I,” I murmur. I’ve seen death before, but to witness it again, to feel a human life end… I shudder.

He looks toward the child in my arms. “We can’t leave her alone.”

“Iris, where’s your mommy?” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Bring her to the church. I’ll finish our other jobs, and then we’ll figure out what to do with her.” Akira stuffs his mask back into his pocket, kisses my forehead, and jogs into the streets.

-----

I bring Iris to the hidden church we call home. For all her earlier fuss, she now refuses to let go of me. She doesn’t say much, other than “no” any time I put her down.

We don’t have any clothes her size, so I do my best to scrub her clean without taking them off. I braid her hair. Feed her pasta. Sing a lullaby when she throws a tantrum. Show her pretty flowers in the garden out back. The curse-eaters did the same for me the day I first came to the church.

Minus the tantrum. I definitely did not throw a tantrum.

When Akira gets back, he looks into the Anderson family and finds no one else. She’s all alone now.

Except for us.

Evening descends and she falls asleep on my bed, with one hand holding Mr. Rabbit and the other wrapped around my thumb. The twinkling bulbs around my bedroom caress her with a gentle light.

She reminds me of Maria. Of the promise I made.

I touch her wrist and feel her gentle heartbeat. She’s so tiny and innocent and beautiful and I will never, ever let a monster near her again.

“I’ll make a home for you,” I whisper.

Tears pool. I tug my thumb free and sneak onto the back porch. Moonlit flowers sway in the breeze as I sit on the cold wood.

Maria would have loved this place. I can’t show it to her, but at least I now know how to fulfill my promise.

Someone opens the door behind me. I wipe my face, hoping it’s dark enough to hide any redness in my eyes.

“Don’t you dare hide your tears from me.” Akira sits behind me and hoists me into his lap. His arms wrap around my waist and hold me against his sturdy chest. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

I relax into his embrace. “I want to keep Iris.”

“Eh?”

“Maria and I promised each other that we’d take care of all the orphans in Nova City. I want to start. Turn this place into an orphanage. The way things are going with the Knights, we’re bound to find more kids with nowhere to go.”

His thumb traces small circles over my abdomen. “How will we take care of them?”

I like that he said we. “We have enough room and food. I’ll just stay here instead of going on missions. I’m no good in a fight anyway.”

He’s silent for a minute. “Okay. Since I’m the leader now, I’ll order everyone to agree with your idea. If they don’t help with everything you need, they’ll be expelled from the curse-eaters.”

I laugh. “Great skies, the power’s already gone to your head.”

He nuzzles into my shoulder. “In seriousness, let’s make a plan tomorrow and talk to Peter about it when he’s back.”

I let out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

I lift one of his hands and kiss his knuckles. He’s everything I dreamed of while on that cold cot with Maria. And he’s willing to help me with my promise. He just doesn’t know about the part where I intend to marry him.

But there’s time for that.

For now, I angle my head and listen to the steady drum of his heartbeat.