London, 1894

The South Kensington skyline was so beautiful at dusk. The electric torches lining the streets lit up synchronously. Heels and boots clicked and clacked, amplifying the warm atmosphere produced by the nighttime strip along the River Thames. Flying ships drifted high above the city like mechanical clouds with their spotlights brightening the overcast sky and their envelopes disappearing amongst the dense gray. Down below, motor cars bumped down cobblestone roads, engines popping with every release of the throttle. Radios blasted music on every street corner bringing mirth to an already lively uptown. Amelia picked up her stilettos from the low wall around the edge of the roof and gave a good tug to the zip line leading from the back of the roof to a train station across the way which she would use if she couldn’t exit from the ground floor later that evening.

She made her way to the stairwell with its door gaping; she wondered if she had left it open or if she was followed. She listened for any signs of life on the roof with her… Amelia looked back at her setup hidden under a wool sheet which blended into the top of the building. Nobody would have business up there, she thought, but if someone did happen upon her bundle of goodies, it would just be some rebellious teenagers looking for a dark place to smoke a pipe. Surely, they wouldn’t be inclined to mess with a high-caliber rifle stashed under a blanket on the corner of a roof. Just in case, she left it partially disassembled and hid the loaded magazine somewhere else. It’ll be fine, she thought. The slap of her flat feet on the hard steps echoed lightly down the stairwell announcing her descent to the rats sneaking along the banister.

She slipped into her heels before exiting on the ground floor and merged inconspicuously into the evening bustle. A taxi pulled over as soon as Amelia hailed and took her across the river to the Riverview Terrace Complex. It wasn’t a far walk at all, but it completed the look: arriving by horseless coach. She fixed her dark hair into an intentionally messy bun held together by a short knife which looked like nothing more than a fancy hairpiece when embedded in her thick locks. She brushed slight wrinkles from her sleeveless dress and adjusted the gold band around her left ring finger. She certainly would have stood out on the streets, but that’s what suited her best that particular evening.

***

Amelia entered the hall in which the party was being hosted and took in her surroundings. Bright lights illuminated the high-ceilinged room. Columns cast shadows on the side walls and the crystal chandeliers dangling high above shimmered. Top hats and tailcoats clothed every man, and the women wore similar garments to Amelia. Neat white tablecloths tied the clean look of the ballroom together. As she walked, short strides ensured the carabiner and quickdraw dangling between her legs didn’t push from the underside of Amelia’s long gown. Hungry lords gathered around the buffet and chatted about politics and other garbage Amelia cared very little for personally. Many of the individuals were named in her briefing so she had no trouble introducing herself to the men who would ensure her a place in line to shake hands with the new Prime Minister.

She had been given as much information regarding the attendees of the party as possible, but very little about the host herself. Amelia visited the country rarely and didn’t keep up with English politics anymore. The new Prime Minister was a woman, she knew, but very little description was provided—odd considering Amelia would have to know what the Prime Minister looked like if she wanted to do her job right. Her informant left it at “you’ll know her when you see her,” so she stayed focused on surveying the location of the future meet-and-greet. A window was situated right behind the table at which the Prime Minister would be seated—perfect for Plan B. As for Plan A, Amelia simply had to shake the Prime Minister’s hand and prick her with a tiny needle spring loaded in her ring. The jab would be unnoticeable, but the miniscule amount of ricin injected would be more than enough to kill. Within three days, Amelia would be long gone and the Prime Minster dead: no cure, no trace. She weaved her way through the crowd to the bar for more introductions when a familiar voice caught her ear.

“Now what on Earth is an angel like you doing in such a sinful place as this?” The voice was smooth and gentlemanly. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat as she turned to confirm her suspicions about whom the voice belonged to.

“Ezra…” Amelia let out, followed by the rest of her breath. Her chest sank low in disbelief and discomfort.

“In the flesh,” Ezra replied with a cheeky smile. “But you must be a ghost.” He kept eye contact with her which she wanted so desperately to break but had nowhere to run to.

“What are you doing here?” she forced out, the hairs on her neck and arms standing straight. Ezra leaned in close almost placing his lips against her ear and spoke softly.

“I ought to ask you the same thing, Ames. You’re still wanted by the Crown Militia. The punishment for desertion is no less severe than when we last spoke.”

Amelia moved away slowly and took steps toward the end of the bar counter; Ezra followed beside her. Once away from the major crowd, Amelia continued the conversation keeping her voice low to discourage eavesdropping.

“I thought you would have been long gone, too, since you chased after me,” she said facing to the side.

“I came back,” Ezra replied. “And I was let off easy under the condition that I would never be so idiotic again.” He looked at the side of Amelia’s face and could tell she regretted running into him. “I’ve even become a top dog in the Prime Minister’s personal guard,” he said leaning in again. He whispered, “So if you don’t mind, I’ll ask you again as an agent of the Crown: what are you doing here?” Amelia turned farther away from Ezra’s gaze. She could feel his eyes burning a hole into her neck. Her mind was flustered; she hadn’t expected to see anyone from her days as a soldier on this job and wasn’t prepared with an excuse for someone who knew her face. How could her briefing not mention the possibility? When she didn’t answer, Ezra kept talking.

“You’ve never been one for headdresses, so I had suspicions about that piece in your hair,” he said pouring himself a glass of dark liquor from an unattended bottle. “I saw that it’s actually a dagger when we were making our way along the bar just now.” Amelia faced him, fearing her cover had been blown. “I also noticed your tight steps. Your stride is normally wider, so I know you must be hiding something unexpected under there.” He finished his accusations with a confident smile. The fire that normally flickered in Amelia’s heart while working was sufficiently snuffed out, choked, stomped on. Any bum off the street could guess what Amelia was doing there with the information Ezra gathered just by eyeing her for a few minutes.

The only question left was who. The obvious choice was the big fish, but who would be daring enough to take a job involving a room full of witnesses and the highest security outside of the King’s own? Amelia, numbed and preferring a chance to live rather than be killed on the spot, that’s who. Ezra didn’t wait for her to speak. “I’m sure you understand why I have to ask you to come with me,” he said softly into her ear. Amelia snapped out of her daze and looked at Ezra, then out to the crowd which was beginning to gather to the middle of the room following the start of music coming from a small band that had been instructed to liven up the party.

“How about a quick dance?” Amelia asked placing her hand on Ezra’s forearm.

Ezra grinned saying, “Very well, but after, I’m escorting you out,” and gestured to the dancefloor. The two of them swayed in time with the classical tune, her arms around his shoulders and his at her hips. Many other couples danced around them, everyone holding close to their partners.

“You don’t have to pull me in so much,” Amelia said putting her hand on Ezra’s chest.

“I’m merely ensuring that you can’t force yourself away, my dear Amelia,” he responded confidently. “Though, your beauty and perfume are welcomed additions to my evening.” His cologne wasn’t half bad either, Amelia thought.

“Let’s keep the names on the low,” she replied. “I’m Scarlett Wickham to these blokes. Luckily nobody pays attention to the wives of their business partners.”

“And where is Mr. Wickham this evening?”

“He couldn’t make it unfortunately.” Amelia watched the couples around her, none of them aware of her scheme. Would she be willing to cause a scene just to get away from Ezra? It would certainly mean forfeiting the mission which was as good as suicide. No, she could escape his clutches another way. Ezra’s voice broke through her thoughts again.

“So, I’m going to make this awkward and ask who it is you’re interested in tonight,” he said continuing with his low tone. Amelia glanced at his face then lowered her gaze to his torso. He watched her gentle head beneath his chin. She met his eyes not wanting to give a verbal answer. Ezra stared for a few moments before turning his head to look out across the ballroom.

“Now you can’t keep eye contact?” Amelia asked.

“I just don’t always like being right,” he answered without facing her. Amelia lowered her gaze again.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” she mumbled. “Or really ever again.”

“Not so much a shock for me.” Amelia looked at Ezra’s face as he stared off over her head. She tried to ignore his statement. The two of them continued to sway in silence for what felt like hours to the woman but couldn’t have been more than a few beats before Ezra spoke again.

“Why?” he probed. Amelia shook her head. Trying to lighten up a bit, Ezra smirked and squeezed Amelia’s hips tighter. “You’re quite gloomy tonight,” he teased. “I remember when you were so full of life and love.” Amelia gave him a sarcastic glance. “Well not for me, of course,” Ezra added. “But I do remember.” She remembered, too, way back when. In those days, her trust in those around her was everything. She met Ezra and two others, Miranda and Alistair, during basic training and knew right away that they would be her lifeline. The four of them stuck together like glue eating, sleeping, getting in trouble, and facing danger together. They were bound as lifelong friends. They excelled in the field and were rewarded handsomely for their efforts including with the respect of their peers and superior officers.

It wasn’t long until they were among the elite forces of the Crown Militia performing the duties no one else could. It didn’t matter how harsh the conditions were so long as the four of them were together. They could handle anything that came their way. As part of the elite soldiers, each of them chose a codename to avoid using real names on missions. Alistair’s was ‘Cool Guy’ as assigned by other members of their group for always keeping calm while under heat from the sergeants. Amelia spread the name around before it was chosen—one way she subtly flirted with her close friend. Sometimes she thought he caught the hints she gave, but she never got him to make a move. Miranda was called ‘Viper’ because of her delicate composure and deadly bite if trifled with. Amelia was known as ‘Gorgeous,’ a name Alistair frequently used even while off the job. It made Amelia blush just thinking about his low voice referring to her so intimately.

Ezra was the real ladies’ man, though. Amelia preferred Alistair not necessarily because he was better looking, but because he didn’t try so hard. The other girls on the squad were caught in Ezra’s sinful glare, only to be left broken when he moved on after a night or two. For that, he was given the codename:

“Flytrap…” Ezra said fondly.

“I always hated that name,” Amelia stated. Ezra’s smile fell.

“As nice as it is to reminisce with you, Ames—erm, Scarlett,” he said wrapping one of his arms around hers, “we ought to be going now.” Ezra started to lead her away from the crowd when another familiar voice called for Amelia. They both turned, Amelia feeling her heart sink once more and Ezra regretting the delay of their departure.

“Mira,” Amelia gasped seeing another connection to her past. Miranda looked absolutely stunning. She had never been too keen on dressing up for anything and always hated the mandatory formalwear during ceremonies in their soldiering days. A beat or two passed before Amelia could exhale words from her mouth.

“I…didn’t know you’d be here,” she said softly.

“Likewise,” Miranda said with an expression that suggested nothing close to surprise. Then she smiled. Amelia almost expected a hug, but Miranda kept her arms down, arms crossed at the wrist at her front.

“I don’t suppose you’re heading security, too, nowadays?” Amelia asked shyly.

“In this dress?” Miranda joked. “Certainly not.” It truly was an ornate getup, but 

before Amelia could ask why Miranda was somewhere that required the fanciest of dress, Ezra spoke over her shoulder.

“Madame Yorke, here, has recently been dubbed the new Prime Minister.”

A bolt of one thousand regrets petrified Amelia as she connected the dots in her head. Eyeing Miranda’s outfit again, she was baffled at how she hadn’t realized given the fuzzy cape draped over one of Miranda’s shoulders and the entourage of bodyguards that then surrounded the ballroom. Amelia swallowed hard trying not to let this new detail of her mission throw her off balance.

“Is everything okay, Ames?” Miranda asked seemingly concerned. Ezra spoke up again before Amelia had the chance.

“We were actually just stepping out for some fresh air,” he said gesturing for Amelia to start walking. “We’ll catch up with you later,” he smiled and excused himself and Amelia.

He led Amelia behind the columns near one of the side walls and pushed open a door which blended into the wall. They stepped through to a narrow hallway; Ezra guided the door shut behind them and proceeded to scan Amelia up and down. He gave her a genuine look before clearing his throat.

“Because you’re an old friend, I won’t get the whole team on you, but I’m going to need that harness you’ve got on,” he said bending over to reach under her dress.

“I can remove it myself,” she protested.

“Please, this is just a formality,” he retorted. Amelia released a long, irritated sigh as she allowed Ezra to undo her carabiner and quickdraw from under her gown. Soon enough the harness hit the cold stone floor with a clang. Ezra rose with the harness over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face. Amelia turned to walk down the hall. Ezra reached for the knife concealed in her bun and slid it free as she moved forward causing her hair to fall loose. She swiftly turned around. Ezra held the knife in the hand not keeping the harness over his shoulder and continued smiling. “Dutch?” he asked while examining the decorated hilt and walked ahead of her. “I suppose they’re unsatisfied with the results of the wars?” Amelia shrugged.

She watched the floor as she followed, mumbling “I can’t tell you.” Her voice quivered. Ezra stopped walking and turned to face her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She brushed it off and turned away. He went to grab Amelia’s arm again but was met with agile resistance. Amelia twisted Ezra’s arm and dragged his upper body to the ground slamming his chin into the floor.

“Oh, bugger,” he groaned. Amelia moved around him trying to pin his arms behind his shoulders, but Ezra rolled and brought Amelia to the floor with him. The two flailed and tumbled on the ground, eventually resulting in Amelia being locked with Ezra’s arm around her neck. “Don’t go making this difficult, Ames,” he begged. “You’re already going to be arrested, but I can guarantee your safety if you just come along quietly. As an old friend.” Amelia lessened her thrashing and after a moment relaxed and admitted defeat agreeing to go with Ezra in minor restraints. However, as Ezra removed the cuffs from his belt hidden under his coat, Amelia forced them from his hands and swiftly bound Ezra instead.

“When did you learn that?” Ezra questioned before Amelia jabbed a small needle into his neck. Translucent yellow liquid seeped from a syringe into Ezra’s veins, and he fell limp. Amelia worked quickly to reattach her harness and retrieved her dagger before locating the nearest exit. She ran through the streets dodging traffic and other pedestrians, making her way back across the river to the building on top of which she had laid out Plan B. After picking up the magazine from its hiding place and throwing the wool sheet aside, she assembled her rifle in record time. She leaned the gun on the low wall and exhaled slowly. Placing her stilettos on top of the wall, she gazed out over the South Kensington skyline. Smoke from a locomotive billowed in the distance and laughter echoed from the streets down below. She took another deep breath.

The wind cooled her sweaty scalp bringing with it the smells of industrialization and men’s cologne. Amelia whipped around to find Ezra walking out from the stairwell. “How did—”

“Would you believe sheer willpower and intense meditation?” Ezra said rolling his neck. Amelia stared filled with disappointment, anger, and fear. Ezra met her eyes. “Well, meditation does help when trying to build up resistances to various toxins.” He softened his expression and looked deeper into hers. “Don’t do this,” he begged. She tried swallowing the frog in her throat.

“I’ll die if I don’t,” she choked.

“You’ll die if you do,” Ezra replied. They stood silently for a moment before Amelia spoke again.

“I’ll get away like always,” she said.

“Unless I stop you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at that. “Let me come with you,” he continued. “Forget this mission of yours and let’s run away, together this time.”

“That’s not what I want,” Amelia said.

“Okay, first, ow. Second, is this really the preferred alternative?” Amelia didn’t answer. Ezra frowned. “Well,” he began again. “Just don’t cry about it once it’s done.”

“I haven’t cried since basic training,” Amelia retorted.

“Actually, I believe you bawled your arse off at graduation.” Amelia fell silent again. Ezra stepped toward her, saying “I can’t let you go through with this.”

“Then you’ll have to stop me by force,” Amelia replied. “For real this time.”

Amelia drew her knife as Ezra reached her. Ezra disarmed her and folded her arm back toward her. She stooped and picked up her knife as Ezra bent over and tried to wrap his arms under her shoulders, but she was swift and landed a stab on his thigh. He rolled her away from himself and stumbled back. The stone roof scraped her bare feet as Amelia sprang back up and slammed into Ezra knocking him down. They slammed each other against the roof and wall and exchanged a few blows before Ezra trapped Amelia in another chokehold. Amelia frantically grabbed for the knife yanking it from Ezra’s thigh, the blade pointing away from her. She attempted to slash at his arm, but the motion was stopped with Ezra’s free hand gripping her wrist. She struggled for a moment before popping open a cap on the pommel of the dagger. A small pill fell from a hidden compartment and into Amelia’s mouth.

Ezra put more pressure on her throat cutting off her air and preventing her from swallowing. Pain pierced Amelia’s cheeks as Ezra’s fingers forced them against her teeth and tried to yank her jaw open. She couldn’t resist and the pill fumbled onto the ground and was crushed by Ezra’s heel. He took the dagger tossing it away from her and released his hold. Color left Amelia’s fingertips as she scratched the ground, groveling and gasping for air. Ezra rose to his feet panting heavily. “Are you insane?” he yelled. “Was that cyanide? You didn’t even hesitate. Are you that desperate for an excuse to die? I never knew you to be so eager to give up. What’s happened to you?”

Amelia choked, still having trouble breathing. “It’s better than…what will happen if…I’m caught or fail…” she heaved.

The two of them gathered their breath. Ezra towered over Amelia who was still sprawled out on the hard roof. She closed her eyes to think. Too many thoughts crowded her mind. What had her life come to? Was it really worth the emotional schism to live on? Was life worth it without him? Then, a spark reignited the fire. Amelia scrambled at Ezra’s feet. She took the carabiner from her harness and forced the hook into the stab wound on Ezra’s leg tripping him in the process. She drew cord from her waist and wrapped it around Ezra’s leg for extra security before wrestling him over the low wall around the roof. The cord hissed against the stone before halting. Amelia was pulled against the wall with the cord reaching the end of its line from her harness. Ezra dangled some ten feet down grasping his leg in pain.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. Amelia forced herself to her feet. She walked against the wall dragging the wire suspending Ezra with her and reached for her rifle. Ezra called from below as she balanced the kickstand on the top of the wall. “Don’t do this!” he cried. Amelia did her best to ignore him and take aim. She adjusted her sights to an open window of an empty apartment through which she peered under a decorative arch and into the window behind the Prime Minister’s seat where she could see the back of Miranda’s head.

“Amelia, please,” Ezra begged trying to distract her. “I was wrong before. The last time you cried—” he paused to wince at his pain, “—was when Alistair hooked up with your roommate in the dorms. She knew you had a thing for him, but she let it happen.” Amelia looked up from the scope of her rifle toward the city skyline. It was so alive even at that hour.

“You’re still wrong,” she said shakily. “The last I ever cried was when Alistair was executed by our own nation for a crime he didn’t commit…” Ezra’s expression softened.

So, she hasn’t blocked it out, he thought.

“You remember,” she continued. “The higher-ups wanted him out of the picture, so they framed him for the intel leak while the real spy got away!” She was right. Ezra hadn’t believed it before, but he knew that to be true now.

“I understand your hatred for the state, but that’s no excuse to murder your own countrymen in the name of the enemy! Miranda didn’t have anything to do with that!”

“It’s not about Miranda! It’s just the job I was assigned.” She looked down to Ezra and brought her eyes to his. “The next time I cry will be the day I fail a job, but not today.” With that, she crouched, took aim, squeezed one eye shut, held her breath, and—she stopped. She hesitated as she saw Miranda rise from her chair and turn to look out the window. She looked directly at Amelia. There’s no way she can see me from there, Amelia thought. Miranda took a deep breath and smiled. One of her security guards put a hand on her shoulder and appeared to say something to her. Miranda just closed her eyes and ignored the man. She said something.

Amelia read her lips: “Pull the trigger.” The security mouthed, “What?” Amelia was stunned. Miranda knew. She wasn’t surprised to see Amelia at the party; she knew Amelia was there to kill her, but how? Why did she still attend? Why was Amelia not behind bars already? Ezra yelled from below her.

“Someone was going to attempt it sooner or later,” he shouted. “She would rather it be you than anyone else. But it doesn’t have to be this way! They’re just going to turn you over to the British police once you return. It’s all an international conspiracy!” Amelia didn’t want to hear any of it, but Ezra kept talking. “Don’t you see, Ames? Everything in this world is connected and controlled. We were always meant to be where we are now from the day we became specialists. We didn’t know it then, but we’d entered a political game which can’t be quit. Everyone’s a loser, but the least you can do is live! Miranda, myself, we can all live!” Amelia tried to ignore him. She steadied her breathing and looked through the scope again. “Amelia!” Ezra cried. “Any way you look at it, you are set up for failure! Please, let’s get out of here and run away! That’s the only way you win!” Amelia pulled the trigger. The bullet sliced through the air, grazing the sill of the open window, and whizzed through the archway right into window at which Miranda stood.

The Prime Minister’s body fell limp on the floor before the window shattered completely. Hysteria ensued inside the Riverside Terrace Complex. Ezra watched appalled. “You bloody—!” he shouted over the wind. Amelia stood slowly and could feel the tug of the cord as Ezra tried to hoist himself up, but the pain in his leg was too great. Amelia leaned over the ledge and stared down at him. She wanted desperately to cry but couldn’t. She tried, but no tears fell.

“I have to go,” she whispered, or maybe just mouthed. She undid her harness and looped it over an air turbine extending from the roof.

“You’re not going to kill me, too?” Ezra called out. Amelia stopped and turned toward his voice. She peered back over the ledge to see him staring intently at her, enraged. They locked eyes. “Why don’t you just cut all your ties, huh? I’m the only one left, aren’t I? And I’m a witness! You can’t afford to leave me alive.”

“Don’t make me do what I’m supposed to,” Amelia responded.

“You’ve already done that.” His gaze pierced her mind. “I just hope Alistair is happy wherever he is, but you don’t deserve to share that with him.” Amelia fetched her knife and held it to the cord holding Ezra above the busy streets several stories below. She took one last look into Ezra’s eyes. “Do it,” they said. “Do it so we can all meet back in hell together.” She ripped the knife across the wire which she heard strain before snapping. Ezra’s eyes filled with terror as he began his descent to the ground. Amelia watched as he was stopped short by a balcony protruding two floors down. He didn’t move and appeared unconscious, but Amelia knew the fall wouldn’t kill him. One thing she knew for certain was that she now had no bonds holding her back. Finally, unlike her feelings, all her connections were split.

She collected the remnants of the scene: her rifle, her knife, the harness, the wool sheet, and her stilettos, and disconnected the zipline leading to the rail station. She took her time fixing her hair and rubbing the dirt off her dress as she heard sirens wailing not-so-far away. She suspected she shouldn’t return to headquarters, but her place in the community of her home country was long abandoned. All she could do was run. Amelia took one last look out at the midnight skyline; one airship remained, streetlights flickered, the Thames burbled below, and the moon, which finally revealed itself from behind thick clouds, glistened in her eyes. Then, like silence as dusk falls on the city, she vanished.