smoke storm. peaky blinders

𝗧𝘄𝗼

𝙘 𝙝 𝙖 𝙥 𝙩 𝙚 𝙧   𝙩 𝙬 𝙤

Adelaide and Harry had retired to their own rooms early that previous day.

As Adelaide woke, the sun was peaking through the thin curtains that draped over the bedroom window, a glow bathing her skin in a deep gold. It was early, hints of morning pink still gracing the sky, swirling with the floods of bronze. The golden rays seemed out of place amongst the fog that rolled over the mottled rooftops, engulfing the streets whole. Yet Adelaide took the radiant beams as a sign of good fortune that morning, despite the fact that it was not luck that the siblings needed. Fortune was fickle, abs if Emilio Smith, her alias, was to be successful, then they would need to survive without it.

The day came with an opportunity to inspect the whole of Small Heath. The place was small and intimate- a fact that would no doubt work against them, and so she managed to drag Harry along with her under the promise that she would buy him a drink later in the day. 

Adelaide's strange, optimistic mood could not alter her plans. Harry was told his jobs for the day with a cute precision, leaving him no room for mishaps or confusions. She, of course, was not going to waste time dawdling about.

"I don't know why I even bothered thinking you had good intentions by dragging me out of the house," Harry said, arms folding over his chest as they stepped out into the cold air. "If you want jobs done ask someone else. I'm supposed to be your brother, not your dog."

Adelaide rolled her eyes but continued to walk, letting him follow. Harry complained, but she knew he meant well. His sister was ambitious, everyone knew it. Often, his annoyance came from the mere fact that he wished that for once she would see past it, to their past, to when they would spend time together, as if they were little. Even their father had been corrupted by ambition, though he was too old now to act on it. It was only their younger sister, who still held that child like innocence. Even Adelaide had tried to keep it that way.

Harry sometimes thought that she could see how her ambitions were affecting her. But Adelaide always got up again, confidence brewing, and started again. It was contagious, he could not lie- that energy that made him gravitate toward her, time and time again, even when he wanted to leave. He found himself joining her, helping and wanting them all to be successful, no matter the price that had to be paid. And now, he wondered, what the price for wide spread notoriety would be.

"This is all I ask of you, dear brother. Once we're settled and rooted, I'll have someone else do the menial tasks, but for now, I need someone I can trust," Adelaide said as she stopped, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Besides, would you rather me say I have no use for you? I know you want this just as much as I do, you can't hide the fact, no matter how much you want to."

Harry let out a sigh and turned around, a pout on his face. But despite his annoyance, he carried on with her requests and left her to the streets of Small Heath. Adelaide held little worry. Harry would be successful and her confidence would bolster even higher. For the moment, however, her job required Adelaide, not Emilio Smith.

The market she aimed to visit was smaller than the one in Newcastle, as should be expected. When she emerged onto a larger street, there were only three stalls: one piled with vegetables, another with meat and dairy, a grinning butcher behind it, and the last a table of silver trinkets, a basket of stale bread hanging in the corner as a last thought.

It was as she was heading toward that last stall, that she felt a tug at her wrist, pulling her by the arms to flatten her back against the wall of a building. Adelaide twisted sharply, readying to throw out an elbow, when she saw the woman who'd pulled her, an old face deep set with mounds of wrinkles, surrounding piercing, ash-grey eyes. Her wiry hair was covered in a lace scarf, that looked like it's been cut from old curtains, and wrapped under a frail arm, was a little boy, no older than six.

With her wrist still locked in the woman's tight grip, she let herself be lead around a large wheel barrow, sensing the urgency and fear with which the woman moved with. It was then, that she noticed how eerily quiet the street had fallen. It was a deadly silence, one that dared her to speak and threatened her to remain speechless. It was silent enough that the slow sound of horse hooves echoed between the cracked cobblestone and bricks, stretching from the very bottom of the now empty road.

Working against every inch of her body that screamed not to, Adelaide hid from whatever those around her feared. The woman, the owner of the trinket tall, she realised, released her from the iron grip and moved her finger to place it across her lips in a bid to keep her quiet. Adelaide nodded and turned to watch the street.

The clomping of the horse stopped and the sound of hurried footsteps shortly followed it, and then stopped altogether. From where she hid, Adelaide could only see the back of the horse and the outline of the person on top of it.

In spite of what the reaction to the man suggested, he was well dressed, with a grey suit and polished shoes which sat relaxed in the stirrups. A hat was placed upon his head, hiding a face that Adelaide could not see. Everything about him: his posture, the clothes, the ease of his wrists against the mane of the animal, suggested indifference, and yet people cowered away, beady eyes watching the scene unfold on the street as if there were in front house seats to a drama in a theatre.

What was it about this man that made people scatter?

Adelaide liked to think that the face behind Emilio Smith could have made people run. The mere thought of it held an unkind arrogance, but the confidence that spiralled in her stomach felt like fire, a spur to her goals. This man was powerful, the cold aloofness said as much.

As the footsteps ended, two people approached the man on the horse, their feet the only thing Adelaide could observe from her place behind the barrel.

"What are they saying?" Adelaide asked the old woman beside her, but she shook her head, causing her to fall into a hush.

Still in a crouch, Adelaide shuffled sideways, sliding through the collection of barrels, sucking behind the very end of the long wheelbarrow.

With shaking hands, the woman unfurled her hand where sat a lump of rich, red powder. Slowly, she held her hand to the horses head, then blew, letting the dust disperse against the wind, watching as it carried in a gust, settling against the crown of the horse's head. The animal reeled under the pull of its reins, head tilting backward, hooves crashing like thunder upon the earth.

It was then, that she saw his face.

His appearance was a startling one, for she had not expected to lay eyes upon such a man. The cal was still pulled far across his face, casting brooding shadows across his eyes, darkening the deep contours of his cheeks and jaw, making his features angular and jarring. He was emotionless in expression, his lips firmly held in a straight line. And despite the stiffness and silence of his movement, he said everything that he wanted to.

His head lifted as the horse clattered its hooves again, twisting them both around again. And it was the severity of his look, caused by his eyes, that made her swallow. Striking could not describe it. They were a shattering shade of blue, eyes that held a harsh, raw and intense state, making him unwavering in his intimidating form.

Then, from pink lips, came a low, sturdy voice.

"The horse's name is Monaghan Boy. Kempton 3 o'clock Monday. You ladies have a bet yourselves but don't tell anybody else."

He rode from the street with equal effect. It was not until he's disappeared safely from sight, that anyone dared to move from their positions. Adelaide stood, stepping quickly into the road, staring off to the direction he'd rode into.

"Those Peaky Blinders devils are using witchcraft again," some one said, from across the street.

The old lady that's pulled her to the side rolled her eyes at the lady and beckoned Adelaide forward. She didn't say anything, only put something in her hand and furled her fingers over it and pushed her away again. Adelaide grinned as she set off down the street again. That man was a Peaky Blinder, and she was going to find them.

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