Shay.

"I'll go." Shay grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You can't, Miss." Mary put her hands to her mouth. "The master would have a fit if he were to find out we'd let you out in the streets on your own."

"Oh, Mary, for goodness sakes. It's one block away. You're busy sewing and Albert's hammering away. The nuns are with the children taking lessons in God, and Annie and the others are washing sheets, while cooks trying to prepare a meal." Shay smiled. "We can't use that bag of flour. Rats have been in it, and there is no way I'm letting anyone make bread with it. Throw it away. I'll be back very soon with another."

"Miss!"

"Mary. Get on with it before cook tries to use it. I will be fine." Shay shut the sewing room door before Mary could put up any more arguments. She'd been up and down this street a hundred times by now, with one or the other in toe, and there had never been an incident. How hard could it be to run down to the baker for more flour?

Shay pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and brushed loose hair out of her eyes as she closed the orphanage gate behind her. She was so sick of feeling like a prisoner. She knew her father meant well, but his care restricted her in so many ways. Like now, a simple task of going out into the street alone, to the baker in Whitechapel Road. She'd have to talk to Mary and Albert to make sure nothing was said, or he would have a fit, and haul her back home to Tidworth and Lytton House.

The street was busy. Shay side-stepped a pad of horse manure and smiled at an old man who grinned at her as he held out a pouch, and offered, "Tobacco, miss. It be the best in London."

"No, thank you." Shay ducked around him, almost bumping into a flower seller who was wearing a little too much rouge. "I'm sorry," Shay said as she skipped around the woman. Perhaps coming out alone was a mistake, she thought, as she wove this way and that, trying to avoid people and unsightly things that lay on the ground.

As she rounded the corner, Shay was slammed in the chest, her feet were lifted off the ground and she landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She clasped her hands to her diaphragm and tried to drag in air. A man dressed in a cowled necked turban and thick heavy cloak crouched in front of her. He grabbed her upper arms, forced her to sit, and then jerked her hands above her head.

"Allaena! Aimra'atan ghabia!" Samuel couldn't believe it. Not something he needed right now. He looked at the girl as she struggled to breathe, her large green eyes wide in panic.

"Swearing at her and telling her she's a stupid woman isn't going to help, Samuel," Omar said in Arabic. "The poor girl looks scared out of her wits."

Samuel looked from Omar and back at the girl. She had stunning eyes, emerald green set in a face that had turned so red it was unbelievable. Samuel's gaze locked with hers. A burn in his torso singed his soul. It felt like someone had a hold of his lungs, and was twisting them in his chest. "Mutaʼassif. ʼArḍā ḡafara mī," he murmured.

Shay had no idea what he was saying. His eye colour changed from black to burnt toffee in just a matter of seconds. She focused on his features as she tried to drag in another breath. If she was going to die, she wanted to remember the face of the person who had tried to help her, or perhaps kill her. He was beautiful. It was the only word she could find in this jumbled moment to describe him. Even though there was a scar running along his left cheek bone, just under his eye, it did not mar his looks. As Shay dragged in more air, another man dressed much the same, crouched beside the first. He was older with full lips and darker skin. At a guess they were not related.

"My master apologises. He asks for your forgiveness."

"Yes," Shay gasped out the word and nodded. Master. Definitely not related. She glanced at the man holding her arms above her head, and then back at the man she could understand. "Can. Can you. Ask him. To let. Go of. Me."

"Ah, yes." Omar chuckled. "Mlik Sámi." Omar nudged his head at the girl. "You heard her Samuel. She wants you to let her go," Omar said in Arabic. "Just because you haven't spoken a word of your native tongue since we arrived in your land, doesn't mean you don't understand the language." Omar chuckled again. The girl had somehow put a trance on the young lord. "She's pretty," he said. "Perhaps your cock has shown an interest."

Whatever was said Shay got the impression the man holding her didn't like it. His iris's turned completely black in an instant. He dropped her arms so they fell with some force.

Samuel let go of her and stood abruptly. He turned on Omar. "I have no time for women, especially those that can't look where they are going. You deal with her." He stepped around the girl and stormed down the lane with Omar and Shay looking after him.

"Thank you." Shay rubbed her arms. His grip had gotten tighter the longer he held her. She looked back at the older man. "He doesn't seem very happy."

"Ah... no." Omar smiled warmly at the girl. "He has a lot on his mind. I hope he did not hurt you, madam." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "You are well?"

"Yes. Thank you." Shay pulled her wrap around her shoulders. "Just a little winded. I'm fine now, thank you."

"I bid you good day, madam." Omar bowed his head and pointed after Samuel. "I must follow."

Shay watched him go, rubbed her arms again and turned the corner. First time out on her own and that happens. Thank goodness no one she knew was there to witness it.

As Samuel stormed away the image of the girl's eyes wouldn't leave him. What the fuck? Samuel pressed the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. He didn't have time to think about a strange girl's eyes. He dropped his hands, lifted his face, and sucked in a breath of air to clear his mind. How to kill George Somersby? That's what he needed to think about.

*

Omar sat on the edge of his bed watching Samuel roll his head backwards and forwards, sweat streaming down his face. It wasn't the first time he'd watched Samuel in the fit of a nightmare. They had gotten less over the months, and after killing Banuff there had not been one. Omar supposed it was discovering the death of his brother Frederick, that had set him off. It was understandable. Omar stood and pulled the covers off of Samuel so they wouldn't get tangled in the thrashing. He sighed; Samuel's whole body was a lather of sweat. Omar thought about waking him, but had the belief nightmares were the mind leaching the pus of bad memories.

As Omar settled back on his own cot Samuel sat bolt upright, his eyes wide as he gasped, "Shay...!"

Omar rose slowly from his bed and waited.

Samuel stared straight ahead breathing heavily in and out. He put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes as his breathing slowed.

"What does this mean?"

Samuel twisted his head, searched the shadows for his friend, and frowned at the question.

"This word, Samuel. I have never heard it spoken. Shay. Is it English?"

"It's a name. A person's name," Samuel whispered.

"Why are you tormented by this person? A nightmare. It has been many, many days since your last. Is this man your enemy?"

"No." Samuel chuckled softly. "The opposite. My seraphim. Before you, there was only she. A very insignificant part of my past, that somehow became very important. I have not thought of her since you brought me back to life. It was the girl today. The one I knocked down. She had green eyes. Shay had green eyes."

"Tell me about her." Omar gave Samuel a gentle smile. This was a story he had never spoken of, and Omar was keen to hear it.

"It is nothing. She was nothing to me. A small child. Ugly, yet angelic. I don't know how she came to be. There was a story, but I don't remember it. I met her once. I have never understood why it was she who came to me in my hours of darkness. I slept well those nights. It is all I remember." Samuel shrugged. "It was a dream I created to keep me sane. Tonight, it came back to me because of that girl's eye colour." Samuel lay back and pulled the covers up. "It meant nothing."

Finally, Shay's and Samuel's first encounter.  I'd love your thoughts.

Image taken from Herald Sun