Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

[TheCorsair]

The Raven gasped and shuddered at the taste and feel of the Nightengale’s orgasm, leather-sheathed hands gripping her rear tighter as she arched against the tongue that explored her. The vigilante didn’t let up, sucking and licking to prolong the sweet agony of her pleasure, greedily tasting her until she slumped bonelessly against the wall. A contented sigh whispered against her slick lips, as the vigilante lowered her leg to the ground.

Slowly the Raven rose, gloves hands gently exploring her curves as the vigilante kissed her with lips still slick with her pleasure. “It’s nearly dawn,” the harsh voice whispered, warm breath flavored with her juices. “And you have an identity to maintain.”

The Raven kissed her again, body armor hard and unyielding against her as the vigilante molded against her. Then gentle, gloved fingers drew her mask down over her face in once more. “Practice what I showed you,” the vigilante croaked, drawing the white-striped black mask down to cover a chin still glistening with her desire. “And find me tomorrow night, if you can. I’ll wait i the Bohemian National Cemetary.” The mask regarded her. “We still need to decide what to do about L’Ombra, after all.”

The Raven stepped back. “Sing The Prisoner’s Song in your performance tomorrow, if you can’t make it. I’ll be there.” Then, with a last, lingering look, the vigilante hopped onto the stone ledge of the belfry and disappeared from sight.

 

[Xanaphia]

Caught in the pleasant daze of her climax, Nightingale hardly reacted as the Raven prepared to say goodbye. She just wanted a little longer with him, a few more moments in his arms. “Wait,” she started, but he swallowed up her protests in a kiss. But he left her with instructions and a promise to met again, and it was the best she could hope for. He haunted her thoughts as she drove home and occupied her dreams as she dozed off.

She’d slept in the next day, and luckily enough, Vinnie actually left her alone. He was having some sort of meeting with his men, and once she determined none of it was useful for William or the Raven, she headed off to the Cage, to work out like the Raven suggested. With hours yet before opening, it was empty, so there was no one around to question why she was merely rotating the tables right in front of the stage. After an hour of exertion her muscles ached and throbbed, but she was almost done with her task.

“Jesus Mercy, Vinnie can’t even send ya some goombahs to move stuff around for ya?”

She spun in a panic, but it was just Valentino, so she released a laugh to cover her nerves, “Nah, I kinda like it better when they don’t stick around like that.”

“Alright, all right,” he laughed, and helped her push the last table back into place, “but what about that Raven, huh? I heard he shot up the place once already.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t stupid enough to show up here again.” Not in costume, at least. She tied back some damp clumps of hair and made her way to the bar, “You want somethin’ to drink?”

“I hear that stuff illegal in the states,” he teased, leaning against the bar counter across from her, “Seems like that makes it even more popular.”

Mercedes filled two glasses, “Somethin’ like that.” The both drank in silence for a moment or longer, before Valentino spoke again.

“You really oughta see the Old Country Mercy; It’s beautiful,” he insisted, motioning with his drink

“Is it now?” She shrugged and sipped her drink, staring out past her brother, “Maybe someday.”

“I’m actually thinkin’ I might head back over myself. Maybe take Mama back with me.” That caught Mercedes attention, glancing at Valentino, but he just took a deep drink, before continuing, “I think it be good for her, ya know. She needs to be around people, and she ain’t gettin’ it here.”

Mercy didn’t say anything, but frowned. Sometimes it was hard, getting on with her mother, but the thought that she might be so far away broke her heart. Maybe it was for the best though. If she was back in Italy, safe with Valentino, Mercedes could worry less about her getting caught in the crossfire of her revenge. Or maybe she could actually take William up on his offer of sanctuary. It would be awfully nice to spend more nights at his place. “Might not be so bad,” she found herself agreeing, but unable to completely let go of how much she would miss her.

Valentino smiled, and nodded to her, “You should come with us, Mercy. You still speak Italian, don’cha?”

He was trying to be funny, but Mercedes could only frown. “I can’t just up and leave, Valentino, I’m married.”

“Yeah, you’re married, but he don’t own you.” A tense silence filled the space between them, Mercedes wondering just how much he knew about Vinnie and what he’d done. Finally, Valentino sighed, “Look, I ain’t talking ‘bout you moving there with us. Just comin’ out to help Mama get settled. Vinnie wouldn’t keep you form your family now, would he?”

She couldn’t forget the car ride home, just a few days past, and the veiled threats in Vinnie’s words. I’d die before I let you go. “We’d have to talk about it. Let me know when you figure it all out.”

Valentino nodded, finishing off his drink, before squinting and cupping her chin, “Is that a bruise?” Before leaving the house, she covered it in makeup, but she must have sweated it away trying to exercise. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm, “Did Vinnie do that to you?”

Finally, she pulled away, “Nah, nuthin’ like that. I just slipped, in the shower.” Valentino held her gave for a moment longer, eyes hard, and she knew he didn’t believe her. But he didn’t press her for the truth, which was fortunate, because trying to explain that it was actually a masked assassin her husband had hired to kill her unknowingly would have been far, far worse.

 

[TheCorsair]

William yawned and stretched as he entered the dining room, then blinked repeatedly. Despite a shower and shave, he was still tired. The kind of tired that made a man want to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. “I’m getting too old for these long nights,” he grumbled.

“Have some coffee,” Marilyn suggested, gesturing at the pot. “It helps.”

He sat with a grunt, pouting himself a mug and drinking it black. As the cobwebs cleared, he peered at his sister. She wore a cotton robe over silk pajamas, and gripped a steaming mug of her own in her gloves hands. “You look like you had a late night yourself,” he commented, observing her reddened eyes. “Out with Valentine?”

“Valentino,” Marilyn corrected. “And no, I hit a few joints I know. I wasn’t sleepy.” She sipped her coffee. “You?”

“Out trying to learn a little more about this L’Ombra character Hizzoner hired in,” Will commented. “Lots of digging through archives. Seems they call him ‘the man that never misses’.”

“Who’s they?” Marilyn asked, intrigued.

“The people writing the stories,” Will replied. “But he’s credited with a string of murders across Europe. Bad news, really.”

“Huh,” Marilyn commented. “Actually, I learned a little about him myself, last night.”

“Really?” Will was curious, now. “What?”

“You know how some of the places I hang out ain’t the best places, right?” Marilyn laughed. “Well, I heard he’s a palooka in a grey suit and a grey fright mask. Kinda dressing like a ghost, y’know?”

“Grey, huh?” Will grinned. “I’d have thought a shadow would wear black.”

“Only if he wants CBS suing him,” Marilyn laughed. “Heading In to the office today?”

“Yeah. I have to keep up appearances.” Will laughed. “Then I may catch a show at the Gilded Cage. You?”

Marilyn shrugged. “I’ll probably catch up with Valentino. See if I can’t get started helping him write that book.”

 

[Xanaphia]

“I was going to go meet Marilyn for lunch. Did you want to join us?” Valentino offered, passing her back the empty glass. Mercedes allowed herself a frown when she turned to rinse off their cups.

“Don’t sound like you need your kid sister tagging along on your date,” she quipped, covering her jealousy in a joke. Marilyn was the one lover she could be seen in public with, and now Valentino would take that away from her. But they clearly liked each other, and Mercedes couldn’t begrudge them their happiness if they could find it together. “ ‘Sides, I got rehearsal in a little bit anyways.

So Valentino left her with her thoughts and memories. Of how much she missed William, and how she wished she’d gotten something form Vinnie she could share with him, if only to hear his voice on the phone. Of the Raven, and the moment they shared last night. As glorious as it was brief. She loved the sex with him, without a doubt, but she wanted more. She wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up at his side. Like she had done with William. But even their night together had been fleeting.

She half-ways through her second drink when the band showed up for rehearsal, and they were all that kept Mercedes from finishing off that bottle of gin.

***​

Friday night was as crowded as they’d ever been, as if the Raven had never attacked the joint. Or had his appearance raised further interest, more lookey-loos hoping to catch sight of the vigilante? What would any of them think if they knew he were in the audience?

Mercedes peaked out at the audience, and while she still couldn’t pick out the Raven, she did catch William’s eyes, and offered him a quick, knowing smile. A smile that wished it could be so much more, letting memories of their night together warm her as she readied herself to go on stage. She couldn’t meet with William, not tonight, but she would get to meet with the Raven.

Vinnie wasn’t there tonight either, so she allowed herself to hold William’s gaze every now and then. Especially on some of the raunchier numbers. She supposed it was a good thing Valentino and Marilyn weren’t here either, even if she didn’t want to think about what they might be doing together. She had enough on her mind, really.

Once they show ended, she made a brief rounds around the club, talking up a few fans and regulars, slowly making her way to William. All the while, she paid close attention to the men she spoke to, trying to piece together if they might be the Raven, but she didn’t think so.

“Glad to see you made it again tonight, Mr. Stone,” she noted with a smile, while trying to stay reserved. Vinnie wasn’t here, but some of his boys were, and she knew they’d report anything untoward to Vinnie in a second. “Pity your sister couldn’t be here.” She wouldn’t stay long, she told herself. She still had a meeting with the Raven to get prepared for, but she couldn’t resist this small chance to talk with William.

 

[TheCorsair]

“Glad to see you made it again tonight, Mr. Stone,” Mercedes Morello said with a smile warm enough to melt steel. Or was that just his imagination? She’d seemed to be singing directly to him all night, her throaty voice reminding him of the way she’d cried out as he’d moved in her...

“I wouldn’t have missed it, Mrs. Morello,” he replied, dragging himself away from the memories. “The Gilded Cage puts on a fine show.”

A fine show named Mercedes. He’d done his best to focus at work, particularly since he’d had a board meeting to attend. They hadn’t been wildly happy with the way the paper had handled the Raven, since the exploits of the masked vigilante sold copy and since his editorial decision was to keep the focus on the criminal actions of the gangs and the lives they ruined. And now they wanted more on this rumored L’Ombra as well. He’d won a compromise by informing them Marilyn was researching the new masked man, but it had been an irritant.

Talking to Mercy was so much better.

“Pity your sister couldn’t be here,” she remarked.

“She’s our talking to your brother,” he smiled. “Trying to wheedle details of his survival in the war and his return to the States. It’s the kind of thing that tugs at the heart... and sells papers as well. Which reminds me...” he looked around discretely, checking how closely they were being watched. “Think I could talk to you somewhere private? I, Ah, wanted to follow up on our conversation from a few nights ago.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Will’s suggestion caught Mercedes off guard, and a slight shudder passed through her. Memories and fantasies of stolen moments together had already consumed her mind as she performed. This confirmation from Will that the same ideas filled his mind took her arousal up to another level entirely.

“I see,” she replied, hardly able to conceal a nervous giggle or flirty smile. She shook his hand, and palmed him the key to her dressing room, “Yeah, I think we can manage that. Later. I’ll, uh, be in touch.”

The best and worst part was the anticipation. She spoke to a last few regulars, her band mates, anything to put distance between Will sneaking into her dressing room and herself joining him in there. With a drink in hand, she went backstage, and into her dressing room, thrill exciting her nerves to find the doorknob warm, and unlocked. That thrill built as she opened to door to find him standing there, and the look he gave her made her heart skip a beat. She flashed a Will naked smile, a genuine expression of elation and desire, and made a show of locking the door behind her.

“So, uh, what did you want to talk ‘bout?” she murmured with a smirk on her face. Closing the distance between them, Mercedes didn’t hesitate to throw her arms over his shoulder and pull him into a kiss. “We’ll hafta be quiet,” she whispered against his lips, savoring his taste. “Wouldn’t want anyone else listenin’ to our conversation.”

 

[TheCorsair]

Will stride through the back stage areas of the Gilded Cage with the calm pace of a man who had a perfect right to be there. It was a hard pace to maintain, though. Mercy’s palmed key felt like fire in his hand, and similar flame coursed through his veins. He wanted to break into a run, throwing caution to the winds. He wanted to crouch, certain that everyone was watching him and aware of what he was doing.

So, he forced himself to walk. Nobody batted an eye. Still, the click of the lock was loud as a gunshot in his ears, and the creak if the door was a groaning scream out of a radio serial as he pushed it open and slipped in. He finally realized he was holding his breath when it closed behind him.

The wait stretched on, an excruciating stretch as seconds ticked by. Every creak if the floor outside was a jolt of alarm. Mercy? An employee? One of the North Sude goons, tipped off to his presence? When the door finally unlocked he tended, eyes hard and fists balled, ready to fight for his life.

Mercy’s shape in the door, and her electric smile, dissolved all his tension. “So, uh, what did you want to talk ‘bout?” she murmured, coming into his arms. Her kiss tasted like whiskey and heat, and it took all his presence of mind to turn and close the door completely with his foot.

“You,” he murmured, exploring her hips with his hands. The silk gown she wore for her performance was slick and thin beneath his hands. “Me. Us.” He fumbled with the lock as he kissed her again, catching her lip with his teeth and tugging gently. “I want to hear my name in your lips, hear you sing for me in private.”

“We’ll hafta be quiet,” she whispered against his lips, savoring his taste. “Wouldn’t want anyone else listenin’ to our conversation.”

Grinning, he eased her back against the dressing room table. “I’ll try,” he whispered back, leaning into her and exploring her mouth with his. In the mirror he could see his hands stroking her back, watch her hair cascade down in ebon waves as she arched her neck to meet his kiss. “It’ll be hard,” he continued, bringing his hands up and around to cup her breasts, “but I’ll try.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Us. God, she wanted there to be an “us.” Something more than these stolen moments. Something greater than a torrid affair. Something deeper than their bodies pressed together.

But that was asking too much. So she settled for spreading herself for him, letting her dress ride up her hips so he could get between her thighs. She tugged down her stocking and kicked out one of her shoes, just trying to get undressed enough to complete the connection. As much fun as it might be to imagine an elaborate strip tease, to imagine recreating Zorita’s performance between the two of them, there wasn’t time. Already this was risky, and if they dared to take their time, it would be damn near suicidal.

So she reveled in his touch, his taste, giggling against his lips as strong hands cupped her breasts and teased her nipples through her thin bra.

“It’ll be hard,” he continued, bringing his hands up and around to cup her breasts, “but I’ll try.”

“Hard,” she agreed, rubbing herself against the growing hardness in his pants. She arched her back further, offering more of herself to him, and reaching between them to grab his cock. His smooth shaft twitched between her fingers and she sighed, “So very hard…”

 

[TheCorsair]

“Very hard,” he agreed, gasping as her warm hands wrapped around his shaft. God, he wanted to take his time. Wanted to spend hours on her, exploring her curves and learning her body. But there wasn’t time, not while Enforcer Morello still breathed. So he settled for unzipping her dress, baring her upper body to his lips and gaze as he thrust into her grip.

“I want you,” he breathed, teasing a nipple to harder life with his tongue. “I want you wild for me,” he added, sucking gently at the erect flesh. His lips trailed upwards following the curve of her breast and throat. His hands explored her bare thighs, tracing their contours as he pushed her skirts up higher. She clung to him for support as he dragged her underwear down, her mouth hot and hungry on his as he tossed the silk aside.

“God, you look good,” he breathed. Her hair was touseled already, and her body was completely bare to him except where her dress bunched around her waist, and the angled mirrors of the dressing table made it look like there were a sea of Mercys watching him. “And you taste good,” he added, stepping close and kissing her.

His hand moved between them, brushing her lips before gripping his rock-hard shaft. The velvety head slid over her as he tried to line himself up, and then he gasped. “And you feel good” he groaned, feeling her slide over him as he pushed into her. “So... good...”

 

[Xanaphia]

“I want you,” he breathed, teasing a nipple to harder life with his tongue. “I want you wild for me,” he added, sucking gently at the erect flesh.

“I am,” she murmured, arching herself even more, offering her breasts to his lips. “Every night I see you in the audience. Ever since that first kiss…”

The dressing room table creaked and groaned with his motions, loud in Mercedes’ mind as she tried so hard not to cry out. Not to scream with satisfaction as William filled her so perfectly. One of her arms went around his shoulder’s, clinging to him for support, and the other trailed down his smooth chin and neck. She captured his mouth in a hungry kiss, using his lips to cover the moans and cries she couldn’t hold back.

He filled an emptiness in her, and here, like this, she could almost let go the hate she held for her husband. Could almost let go of her desire for revenge. But there could never be a future for them, not with Vinnie in the picture. And so it was that the person who could sway her from her planned retribution was yet another motivation to see it through. Once this was all said and done, she’d be free. Free to pursue her own happiness, in the light of day. For now, that desire would have to hide in the shadows.

“Will…” she breathed, pulling him closer with arms and legs. God, his angle was perfect, slick friction pooling deep within her. Silken muscles collapsed with each retreat, only to stretch delightfully over him again, her body a hungry sheathe for his. “Will,” she whimpered, liquid heat swallowing his every inch and holding him fast when their hips met. The pressure grew, taut muscles clenching until Mercedes swore she were seeing spots, and pleasure burst form her in a long, moan. Like a sustained low note, earthy and velvety, it started deep in her body, from the pit of her stomach and the bottom of her lung. Her legs refused to let him go, and her hips refused to let him stop, twitching and writhing and begging for more.

 

[TheCorsair]

Mercy’s tongue caressed his name as she moaned it out, making a song of the sound. She molded herself to him, clinging to him as he moved within her, offering more of herself and taking more of him in return. “Mercy,” he gasped, unsure if he was begging or simply calling her name. She was silken flame around him, a sweet torture that made him want more and more. “God, Mercy.”

She whispered his name again as he drove into her, his pace becoming more and more urgent as she gripped him tighter. He wanted to drag the moment, longer on the seeet slick friction between them, on her hungry embrace and the delicious taste of her skin flavored by the scent of her arousal. He wanted to spend hours exploring her, learning her her.

But that wouldn’t happen, would it? While Enforcer Morello lived, all they could have would be stolen moments, passion made sweeter by danger.

“Mercy,” he moaned, his hands finding her hips and pulling her closer to him. She moved with him now, his length buried fully in her as he thrust, as she tightened her legs to take him deeper. The table creaked beneath them, and her head rested against the mirror as she arched into him. Then a low moan welled up from within her, a wordless, primal song if ecstasy as she clenched on him.

Will pulled her to him, his hands cupping her face and his lips drinking down her cries as he moved within her, seeking his own release. He found it with a sudden triumph, surging into her as she clung to him, silencing his cry with her lips and tongue as she milked his passion from him.

He found himself trembling as the moment subsided, clinging to her as she clung to him, unwilling to let her go. “Come with me,” he whispered. “Right now.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and kissed her. “I want you to stay with me, Mercy. Now and always.”

 

[Xanaphia]

At that moment, with their pleasure mingled within her, the last thing Mercedes wanted to do was say no to William. Yes. The word filled her mind, and hovered just above the tip of her tongue. Fantasies of a life spent together consumed her thoughts. “William,” she breathed, not yes or no. Their eyes met, his reflecting the pleading in his words. Like this, no was unthinkable.

Instead tears came, flooding her eyes and soaking into his jacket. “I want to,” she admitted, voice trembling. “I want that. You.”

What was the worst case? Vinnie kills William. And Valentino. And her mother. And Marilyn, but maybe not before hurting her again. And her… well, probably the same as Marilyn. At best. And now that trauma returned

“I can’t,” she said, voice cracking. Emotion wracked her body, at odds with the relaxed bliss that her climax had brought. All she could see in her mind was everyone she loved and cared about, dead or broken. “Someday,” she promised him, promised herself, fingers digging into his back. “Someday.”

***​

Letting William leave that evening, alone, damn near broke Mercedes’ heart, but it steeled her resolve. She had to meet with the Raven, had to progress in her revenge against her husband. Especially before L’Ombre could kill them.

Of course, remembering the Raven brought up more guilt. She was falling for William, she couldn’t deny that, but what about The Raven? She had feelings for him too. Of course, without knowing who he was, it was hard to imagine a future with him. And there was still Marilyn, and the connection they shared. If she hadn’t already lost her to her brother.

Dammit, now wasn’t the time to think about all that. Now she needed to focus, to get her mind in the game of bringing Vinnie low, and finally freeing herself from his grasp. So, after the crowds left the Gilded Cage, she changed into her costume, save her mask, and put on a big coat over it. It was too hot for such a thing, even in the evening, but none of the closing staff paid her much mind. As she drove towards the cemetery, she put everyone else out of her mind.

Everything but revenge.

 

[TheCorsair]

Leaving Mercy was the hardest thing he’d done in years, but she was right. She was right that Enforcer Morello would never stop looking for them if she went with him, and he knew from hard and bitter experience how far that son of a bitch could reach. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her, wanting to cast caution to the wind and run anyway.

In the end, she stayed. Only the key to her dressing room left with him. A promise, of sorts. And an invitation. One he’d have to accept infrequently, for her sake.

“God damn Vincent Morello,” he growled as he sank into the seat of his roadster. “How much longer is he going to haunt my family? Hurt the people I love?”

He punched the steering wheel, then slumped back. Slowly, his expression hardened. First, he needed to head back to his home and make preparations. And then? Then he had an appointment to keep.

“Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” he whispered to himself as he pulled out of the parking lot. But the next line of the poem came unbidden to his lips as he did.

“Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.””

-*-

Marilyn dabbed at her lips with her napkin, wiping away the residue of the cream sauce. If she’d been at home, she might just have licked it off, but she was out in public. And she’d found that, paradoxically, the secret to getting away with the big outraged against “common decency” was to observe the little things. It made no sense to her, but she’d used it to her advantage for years.

“How'd I never hear about this joint before?” she asked, twirling up some more linguini. “It looks like nothing from outside, but it’s the second best Italian I’ve ever had.” Or maybe the third, she smiled to herself, remembering the taste of Mercy as she’s writhed beneath her tongue.

“Only the second?” Valentino asked, curious. “What’s the best?”

Mercy. “Your mom’s house,” she smiled. “She outta go into business herself.” Absently she rubbed her hands, certain she could feel the scars through the satin. Her doctor and her brother both tried to assure her that they weren’t that bad, but she could feel them. Could always feel them.

“So,” she said, trying to break her suddenly souring mood by leaning close to Valentino, “tell me about France.” She scooted a bit closer. “Got a girl waiting for you there?”

 

[Xanaphia]

“Your mom’s house,” Marilyn smiled. “She outta go into business herself.”

“Maybe, but she’d run herself ragged, insisting on doing everything herself.” Valentino laughed to himself at the thought. “She’s very particular, ya know. Has to be done the right way, even if it takes twice as long.”

“So,” she started, fixing him with a determined gaze. She drew closer, and her perfume filled his mind. Well, her perfume and fantasies, leading him to wonder how she’d taste, or what she’d look like naked. He bet those legs went on for days. “tell me about France. Got a girl waiting for you there?”

She wasn’t just a pretty face; she took her reporting seriously. And, while he found her passion and moxie enticing, he didn’t care for all the questions. The way she tried to put together an exact timeline of his time in Europe, and asked for specific details about his activities. When he agreed to tell his tale about finally coming home after all these years, he hadn’t expected so much scrutiny.

“Nothing interestin’ to tell. No girls waiting on me They’re pretty stuck up, over there. ‘Specially for a bunch of frog eaters.” He drained his glass, and leaned back in the chair, as if he could put distance between himself and her probing questions. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d tell me something interestin’. Maybe ‘bout the Raven?”

“You think I know something about the Raven I haven’t already written in a column?” Marilyn teased resting her chin in one gloved hand.

He shrugged. “Well, it was worth a shot. Or, what about the Nightingale? What’s her story?”

“Her? You think the Nightingale is a woman?” Marilyn met his gaze with narrowed eyes, and he could see her putting the pieces together in her head.

“Just a thought.” He turned his attention to the sausage on his plate, cutting off a slice and skewering it on the end of his fork. “No one would expect a woman, and lotta these goombahs just blab about this stuff in front of a girl they’re trying to impress. Maybe one holdin’ a grudge decided to put this information to good use.”

Marilyn shrugged, “I hadn’t thought about it, but it does make sense, doesn’t it?” She twirled another strand of linguine onto her fork, and chewed thoughtfully. “The Nightingale is even more elusive than the Raven, so far as I can tell. No reports about them, no descriptions. A lot of what the Raven does is to send a message, but the Nightingale doesn’t leave anything –or anyone behind.”

 

[TheCorsair]

Damn, he’s good, Marilyn thought as she spoke on autopilot. Almost too good. “Of course,” she remarked, “you’re making a few assumptions.”

Valentino gave her a curious, appraising look. “Assumptions? What do you mean?”

“What makes you think the Raven’s a man?” She smiled back, leaning in a little. She didn’t have much ckeavage, but she appreciated the gentlemanly look he took at what she did have. “I mean, your logic about the Nightengale could just as easily apply to the Raven, right?”

Valentino laughed. “All right, you got me. But...”

“Not yet,” Marilyn murmured, “but the night’s still young.”

“You really think...”. He trailed off as her remark sank in. “What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “You were asking..?”

“Uhm... oh, yeah.” He took a sip of water, feeling suddenly flustered. “You really think the Raven’s a dame?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. But, if there’s one thing I learned from reporting, it’s that you shouldn’t assume anything. Maybe’s the Raven’s a woman of mystery, and the Nightengale’s her man Friday.”

“Never thought about it that way,” Valentino confessed.

“Most men don’t,” Marilyn grinned. “Outta curiousity, since you’ve been in Europe recently... you ever hear anything about a character calling himself L’Ombra?”

 

[Xanaphia]

Valentino laughed “L’Ombra’s a legend, a myth. He ain’t real.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. He’s a boogeyman and a scapegoat, nuthin’ more.”

“There’s nine murders that suggestion otherwise,” Marilyn pointed out, literally pointing with her fork.

Fifteen, actually, he thought, but didn’t dare admit that. “Only because it’s convenient to pin a murder on a ghost.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that mayor paid big bucks to hire him to take out the Raven and Nightingale.”

Valentino couched his surprise in narrowed eyes. How in the hell did she know that? Was the mayor stupid enough to spout that aloud? “I might need to check your sources for that one.” He leaned in, drawing in a deep breath of her scent. “But if it is true, it sounds like your mayor got himself conned by some two-bit hitman, trading on the myth of L’Ombra to get himself a payday.”

“Maybe,” she said, tucking into her drink, but he could tell she was unconvinced.

Time for a distraction. The back of two fingers caressed she shoulder and upper arm, but stopped before her gloves, and he leaned in close again. “Know a place where we might get a drink? Or do you actually obey that silly law?”

~*~

Nightingale moved through the shadows of the cemetery, practicing the lessons The Raven had left with her. She was getting used to moving through the darkness, a complete shift from how she stood in the spotlight on stage, hardly able to see the crowd through the lights. In the end, however, they were both performances, and she could use her experience in one area with the other.

One thought, however, lingered in her mind, as she sought out the Raven. Namely, they way he held her the night before, when he suggested this plan to her. The way he tasted her, bringing her to climax and leaving with nothing more than a kiss and her bliss on his lips. He’d been amazing, but so had William, the pleaure he left in her still a warm comfort on this otherwise chill night. Dammit, at some point she’d have to make a choice, between her daytime prince and her masked avenger. Nor could she forget the solace she found in Marilyn’s arms, the shared trauma bridging a deeper connection between them. It wasn’t fair to string them all along, but choosing at this point felt impossible.

The sight of the Raven put off that choice for another day, and she was relieved to find him here, just as he promised. “So, I have something that might actually help you,” she croaked in a harsh tone, doing her best to disguise her voice from any possible eavesdroppers. “I heard Vinnie talkin’ ‘bout a shipment coming in today, and I think we can hit them good there. Some of his lieutenants will be there tonight, and we can deal a major blow. Maybe even start turning some of his men against him."

 

[TheCorsair]

Lurking in the shadow of a monument, the Raven watched the Nightengale’s approach. She still had a lot to learn, he realized, but she was getting better. Much better, in fact, than the last time they’d encountered one another in costume. Of course, there’d been a lot less need for stealth, that night. It wasn’t as important when everything was going to hell around you.

The vigilante shifted, moving enough to catch her eye. She started, just a little, then quickly recovered. “So, I have something that might actually help you,” she croaked in a harsh tone. Her skills as a singer were clearly helping here, as she shifted pitch.

“What sort of information?” croaked the Raven.

“I heard Vinnie talkin’ ‘bout a shipment coming in today, and I think we can hit them good there.” There was pride in her tone of voice, and eagerness. “Some of his lieutenants will be there tonight, and we can deal a major blow. Maybe even start turning some of his men against him."

“I don’t care if they turn against him or not,” replied the Raven, voice cold and hard. “I want him ruined, and then dead. It doesn’t matter to me how that happens.” The black mask twitched, as if a smile moved under it. “But I like the idea of a major blow. Sing for me, Nightengale. And then we can decide how we’re going to hurt him.”

-*-

“Now I don’t want you to be shocked,” Marilyn said with a laugh as she directed Valentino through the streets, but I’ve actually been known to visit a speakeasy from time to time.”

“Shocking,” Valentino replied with the same easy laugh, turning the wheel. “Simply shocking.”

“I know, right?” She grinned, feeling giddy. “It’s s nice place, though. Independent.”

“Oh? How’s that work?” He pulled the car into a parking spot at Marilyn’s indication. “I thought they were all, you know, connected.”

“Never quite worked it out,” Marilyn replied. “The managed just says the owner worked things out with the gangs. Never said how, but they treat it like neutral ground.” She stepped from the car, then slid her arm around his and led him down the alley. About halfway they found a sign proclaiming Munden’s next to a door.

A peephole slid open at her knock. “Who’s there?” asked a rough voice.

“Bob sent me,” Marilyn replied.

The door opened. Inside was nothing spectacular. A wide-open area with tables and an oak bar. A low stage with a redhead in a slinky dress singing, accompanied by a scruffy ginger man in a tux who played a bone-white guitar. “Hey, Marilyn," waved the bartender, a lean brunette man wearing a button-down shirt and black vest. "And who's this?"

“Hey, Gordon,” she waved. “This is Valentino. Anything happening?”

“Quiet night,” Hordon replied, reaching beneath the bar. “Your usual?”

“Yep,” she said as he began pouring.

“Knew it.” He slid over her cocktail. “And you, sir?”

 

[Xanaphia]

Valentino shot a glance at Marilyn, appreciating how the low lighting of the bar made their encounter feel more intimate. “I’ll take whatever she’s having.”

Conversation past in a pleasant haze, and Valentino found himself far more intoxicated by her laughter than his drink. She spoke of her own time in Europe, and how it seemed they just missed each other in their time there. She managed to coax some details about his time during the war, and perhaps another night, the alcohol could have loosened his tongue more.

Still, he found himself checking the time, often. And not because Marilyn wasn’t pleasant company. On the contrary, really. She was so enticing, it would have been too easy to lose a couple hours with her. Not just in bed, neither. Smart, funny, easy to talk to –when she wasn’t digging into his sordid past, that was– she was delightful. But he had a job to do tonight, a place to be at the right time. The sort of job that didn’t usually allow for the sort of entanglements Marilyn represented. So he kept careful track of time, dreading how the minutes ticked down to their inevitable departure.

“I should be getting home, since I know my Mama’s up worryin’ ‘bout me, like she’s been ever since I returned. My own fault, for keepin’ her waiting all these years.” He finished his drink in a last swallow and stood, offering his hand, “Can I see you home, or were you going to keep the night going a little longer?”

***​

Nightingale rode behind the Raven on his motorcycle, clinging tightly to his chest as the wind whipped her mask and jacket. Not so much out of worry, as much as she trusted him now, but it was an excuse to feel him up, opportunities that were too few and far between. By the time they arrived at the docks, their attention was turned back to the task at hand, causing enough chaos to pick off the Northside gang and hit Vinnie right where it hurt.

Given his experience, The Raven would be leading the attack, and she would work to distract and divert attention from him once things got too hot. Which meant they had to split up, a smart move that nonetheless left her uneasy. She liked having him close, and felt safer when he was near. But he wouldn’t be far, and the plan was sound.

So she set herself up on the rooftop next to Vinnie’s warehouse and dock. Already she spotted the boats, coming in from Canada and filled with booze. Readying an improvised kerosene bomb, Nightingale waited for the Raven’s signal.

 

[TheCorsair]

“Hey,” Marilyn said as Valentino checked his watch for the fifth time. “Am I boring you?” For extra effect, she added a little pout.

He jumped and looked abashed, which added a cute element to the sexy Italian look he sported. “I should be getting home,” he replied, “since I know my Mama’s up worryin’ ‘bout me, like she’s been ever since I returned. My own fault, for keepin’ her waiting all these years.”

With a disappointed sigh, Marilyn checked her own watch. Her eyes widened slightly at the time. Shit! “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. She’s kept a candle lit for you for years, the way Mercy tells it.”

He finished his drink in a last swallow and stood, offering his hand, “Can I see you home, or were you going to keep the night going a little longer?”

“Well,” she purred as she took his hand, “I’d hoped to keep it going all night.” She shifted a little, arching her back slightly as she rose, to display her small bust to best advantage. “But I guess I should turn in myself. Got some things to do tomorrow, after all.”

-*-

The Raven took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. Mercy - no, the Nightengale - had been distracting on the ride to the docks. The vigilante’s skin still tingled with the memory of her body as they ride together, and...

A long, slow breath hissed from the vigilante’s nostrils. Focus. This was going to be dangerous, and distracting speculations weren’t needed. They could wait for later, after this was done. For now, the boats coming in from Canada needed all the attention they could spare.

Crouching low, darting from shadow to shadow, the Raven slipped between the buildings. Peering from the gap between the warehouses, the vigilante loaded the far tube of a grenade launcher and watched swearing men tie off the boat. Speed was key to this sort of action. Speed and chaos. Keep them off balance and keep moving.

Nightengale would certainly help with the chaos. She’d be in place by now. So, exhaling again, the Raven raised the launcher. It whumped and bucked as it fired, lobbing a canister across the dock to explode by the men unloading the boat. Orange clouds of smoke mixed with tear gas belched out.

The Raven loaded and fired again, enshriuding the knot of guards as they surged to attention. Black-gloved fingers fed a third shell in, then drew twin .45 automatics. As the guards coughed and staggered and swore the vigilante sprinted towards the boat, automatics blazing.

 

[Xanaphia]

It wasn’t surprising that Chicago’s masked vigilantes hit the Northside Gang’s shipment. It was exactly the sort of illicit activity they seemed to target, based on the meager intel he’d gathered. And so, almost on cue, the shipment of illicit booze went up in flames and the Raven emerged moments later to wreak havoc. Bullets flew with deadly precision and fires raged in his wake.

L’Ombra didn’t give a damn about Morello’s boys, and sure as hell wasn’t going to risk his neck saving them. His job –his only job– was taking out the Raven and the Nightingale, and fighting them on their term was a fool’s way to do it. But he could use the gang as a distraction.

The Raven was at the center of the firefight, thriving on the chaos he created. But where was the Nightingale? Following the arc of a thrown firebomb, he found her, perched away from the action on a nearby roof. Good. He could take her out quietly, and use her vantage point to take out the Raven as well.

Stealing into the shadows, he circled around back to find her position.

~*~

It was exciting to watch the Raven work, his ability to move through the chaos like a ghost made short work of Vinnie’s men. He almost made it look easy

Of course, when back up emerged form the warehouse, it was her turn to shine, scattering the goon with a well thrown improvised explosive, and then picking them off with her own gun. She got a deep satisfaction out of landing her shots, and while she liked the stopping power of her revolver, she may have to consider a long rifle. It would serve her better in this role of striking from a distance…

The dull thud of boots on metal shocked her out of her head. Shit, had someone figured out she was up here? Slipped away from the Raven’s carnage long enough to get the jump on her?

She turned, in time to see the dark mask of L’Ombra peaking over the edge of the building. Without even thinking or hesitating, she lit another kerosene bomb and lobbed it towards the ladder, blocking his path up. He had to slide back down to avoid the flames, but she pursued, thumbing more bullets into the chamber of her revolver. She had the higher ground, an advantage, but she couldn’t risk getting close enough to the edge to give him a clear shot. Still, she kept him pinned by shooting over the ledge, staying low to avoid his return shots, just whizzing overhead.

This was their chance to take out L’Ombra, she realized, peeking out from cover to take another shot. They could strike from both sides, and one of them would eventually strike true. Releasing as loud a whistle as she could manage, She tried to get the Raven’s attention, before taking another shot at L’Ombra.

 

[TheCorsair]

The Raven rolled, making as tight and small a target as possible as bullets cracked off the cement. Safely behind cover the vigilante returned fire, twin .45s alternating as they spewed death from flaming throats. Gangsters fell with each shot, but more took their place - from the warehouse and from the boat.

It was a trap, the Raven realized. Baited to draw them out.

Movement caught the vigilante’s attention - the Nightengale, waving a hand from the rooftop. Then a pale grey figure came into view. The mysterious L’Ombra. Both asked figures stared at one another for a moment, and then three automatics roared.

-*-

L’Ombra swore under his breath as he moved along the roof, aiming and firing with mechanical precision. But the Raven was fast, and had the advantage of cover from the crates and concealment from the thinning orange smoke. And having to worry about return fire made aiming harder.

Damnit, he should have gotten here earlier! But he’d been distracted by pleasant company and hadn’t prepared the way he should. And now what should have been a simple assassinatiin was a running gun battle.

“Abbastanza!” he snapped in the dry rattle he affected as his voice. His gun roared as he fired rapidly, giving himself cover to leap from the roof to a crate and then to the ground. If he couldn’t get the Raven out of cover, he decided as he reloaded, then he’d go to the Raven instead.

 

[Xanaphia]

The roof didn’t provide much cover for the Nightingale, and no where to run either, with L’Ombra right next to her way down. At least she had the Raven backing her up, distracting the assassin with rapid-fire shots that gave her time to reload her revolver. Dammit, she really needed a smaller gun, or maybe an automatic.

Shots whizzed overhead, a sign the assassin had turned his attention back on her. Shit, the wooden boxes she hid behind weren’t going to last more a few shots. So, with a deep breath, she bolted from cover, blasting behind her as she sprinted for the other edge. There wasn’t time to think, no time to make a plan, she just threw herself over the edge and into the dumpster below, landing with a grunt in the piled refuse. At least L’Ombra wasn’t shooting her anymore, but being on the street level was a much more dangerous position for her.

Ditching the coat –that would have given away any hiding spot on smell alone– she stalked through the shadows, moving between warehouses to keep obstacles between her and L’Ombra. A few of Vinnie’s men caught sight of her, but she managed to pick off two with a handful of well-aimed shots.

Finally, she caught up to the Raven, hiding behind crates just across from his. “We gotta go.” It wasn’t the exit either of them wanted, but they’d done enough damage to send their message, regardless. He drew their fire while she retreated to the motorcycle, and then she returned the fire, providing covering fire so he could get it started. Once it roared to life, she jumped on behind him, squeezing off the last few rounds while he slammed on the throttle and pulled out into the streets.

They’d survived, again. But they really were going to have to do something about L’Ombra.

***​

Dammit. He couldn’t risk getting in the middle of the firefight with the rest of the Southside gang. They weren’t his enemies, but they weren’t really allies either, and he didn’t trust them to be able to figure out which masked killer to shoot, and which to leave alone. And that’s why the Nightingale and Raven were able to get away. Again.

They were good. But if they were smart, they’d drop the vigilante act, and return to their regular lives. Some stronger force pulled them back here, some greater goal. He wasn’t going to be able to get them on their terms, not while they worked together. Instead, he was going to have to find out their true identities, and catch them alone. And whatever it was that kept pulling them to hit the Southside gang was the key to figuring it out, and getting his payday.

 

[TheCorsair]

“Damnit,” the Raven croaked, staring out across the lake. “We were set up.” The vigilante glanced at the Nightengale, who returned the gaze. Her features were still masked, but her body language was expressive. No kidding. With a sigh, the vigilante leaned against a tree and gestured back at the distant, burning dock.

“We both have reasons for wanting to hurt Enforcer Morello,” the Raven continued in a harsh, croaking voice, “but we’re getting too predictable. Hitting his gang too many times. We’ll need to spread it around more. Not rely on... on the tips we get.” Your tips had nearly slipped out, but caution needed to be the watchword. Even when they were alone.

“And we need to know who this L’Ombra is,” the Raven continued. “He’s too good, and too dangerous. We need to know what makes him tick.”

The Nightengale nodded. The vigilante watched her move, imagining what she’d look like naked under the stars. Imagined having her, here and now. But it was too dangerous, tonight. The mobs would be looking for them.

“Come on,” the Raven croaked, straddling the motorcycle. “Let’s get out of here.”

-*-

Sunlight streamed into the dining room, sunlight from a beautiful cloudless morning sky. It made the room feel light and airy and peaceful. The atmosphere did not improve Vinnie’s mood. “What? The? Fuck?”

Growling, he threw the paper down and jabbed st a sausage. Then he looked up as Mercedes entered. Fuck she looks good, he decided, ogling the way the silk robe cling to her curves and feeling his cock stir. She was almost enough to improve his temper.

Almost.

“Look at this crap,” Vinnie groused, gesturing at the paper. “The Raven and that new freak, Nightengale - some sorta faggot freak, I guess - shot up one of my shipments again! And slipped past the guards to go hit one of Capone’s warehouses!”

Growling, ge stabbed another sausage. “If it was just Capone, I’d cheer the bastard on. I’d love to see the bastard taken down a few pegs. But...”. He growled again, jamming the sausage into his mouth and chewing angrily. “You got any ideas, baby? I swear, none of my boys got the sense god gave a goose.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Already, Mercedes was wired. It took two cups of coffee to shake off fog of exhaustion this morning. At least Vinnie was too angry about the hit to pay her much mind. And he had no idea about the Nightingale, assuming them to be a man.

“And slipped past the guards to go hit one of Capone’s warehouses!”

“Capone too, huh?” she asked, trying not to show much interest in it. We didn’t hit Capone last night. So who did? As much as she didn’t like the idea of a copycat, it did muddy the issue. Perhaps that was something they could use to their advantage against L’Ombra.

“You got any ideas, baby?”

“Geez, I dunno hun.” Mercedes shrugged exaggeratedly, which had the effect of keeping Vinnie’s eyes on her cleavage and off her face. “Maybe they’re trying to break into crime themselves, thin out the gangs to make some room for themselves. Any new faces in the bootlegging scene lately?”
Vinnie considered that with pursed lips, stabbing his last bite of sausage off his plate. “Could be those fucking micks. Think just because they run Boston they can cut in here.”

Good, now change the subject. “Ya know, baby, with all these masked killers running around, I think I might feel a bit safer with a new gun.”

“A new gun?” Vinnie asked, raising an eyebrow, “It ain’t a bag Mercy, and you don’t need a new one to go with each outfit.”

Damn, he must have been in a bad mood, it wasn’t like he didn’t have access to scores of guns. “Yeah, but a smaller one, one I could keep on me at the club, would really make me feel better. Please?”

“You want it that bad?” Vinnie asked, cocking his head to one side. Hating herself, she bit her lip and nodded, playing into his fantasy. Oh, but how sweet would it be to use a gun he bought her to kill his men?

Vinnie chuckled, and pulled her out her chair. “Why don’t you show me how bad you want it, baby.” He unbuckled his pants, laying out his demands in no uncertain terms. Maybe she could just suck him off and get this over with.

Dropping to her knees, Mercedes took her place before Vinnie. His cock twitched as she pulled it out of his underwear, already throbbing hard. She didn’t look up while she stroked him, pretending that, as long as she didn’t see his face, she could be stroking anyone. Maybe William. Or the Raven. It’d been too dangerous last night to indulge in him, but he left her with a kiss that made her wet just remembering it.

With that memory to warm her, Mercy opened wide, and swallowed his bulbous, purple head.

 

[TheCorsair]

“That’s it, baby,” Vinnie moaned, rocking his hips forward and pushing more of his dick into her mouth. “God, you’re good at that.” His hands slid through her raven hair, tangling in and pulling her tighter. “Fuck, baby. Fuck you’re good at that.”

His grip tightened as he fucked her mouth, enjoying the way she stared up at him. Enjoying the way her mouth gripped his cock. God damn she was hot! Him getting shot and her running the Gilded Cage had made her a little wild, like nothing she’d done in their marriage before.

The sudden thought of watching her with his girlfriend made him gasp. Maybe she’d get that wild?

He couldn’t take it anymore. Dragging her off his cock, he pushed her back onto the kitchen floor. Her silk robe spread out like angel wings as he dragged her nightgown over her hips. “Fuck, baby,” he gasped as he pushed into her. “Fuck, that was good.”

He gripped her shoulders, using them for leverage as he pounded into her. “God... God... Mercy,” he grunted, watching her tits bounce as he fucked her harder and harder. With a hoarse cry he climaxed, driving into her one last time as he emptied his seed into her.

“Fuck,” he gasped, staring down at her. “Fuck, that was good.” He wiped sweat away from his forehead and pulled out. “You must have really wanted it.”

Grinning, he rose and stuffed his meat back into his pants. “Hey,” he laughed, struck by a sudden thought, “maybe we’ll be lucky and I got you pregnant. Think about it, a little Vinnie running around.”