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Jack Kelly had become numb to the spiking sensation of the printing press stabbing his back whenever he laid down to rest.
To rest, he thought, glaring at his dæmon doing the exact opposite--pacing the room restlessly.
"She betrayed us," the badger snarled, tracing an endless circle into the cold pavement below her. "You just don't listen, do ya."
"Stin!" He retorted, now sitting up straight to face his dæmon. Jack didn't want to deal with this, he didn't want to picture her. He was tired of replaying the scene in his head, when her dæmon and his brushed against each other, and the feeling in his chest when it happened.
Everyone knew it was wrong to quarrel with your own soul--you'd get nowhere. But Jack had a clever mouth paired with Stinfemmie's merciless fire, and the two of them knew no right from wrong.
"I know, okay? Yous don't have to keep rubbin' it in," Jack spat.
He knew she was right. Most of the time, she was. Nobody would ever know Jack Kelly better than his own dæmon. But he also wouldn't ever let her know that. And that's what they shared. Nobody would ever see them vulnerable. Not until now.
"In what world--in what city made you think a girl like her could ever like a boy like you. What were you thinking when you saw Calaminus! That was a cougar! And you heard old Joe, we's nothing but thieves! And now you're running away!"
"Don't say it. You know why we--why I had to do it. I can't let another working boy suffer. Not when theys fate is in my hands."
Stinfemmie eyed him angrily, yet in this moment Jack understood her, even if it made his head hot. What was he thinking? It didn't make matters better that she had settled as a badger. Wild. Ferocious. Thief, is what everyone saw when they cared to look his way.
"And you," now her teeth were bared. She had stopped pacing, facing him head on. "You're throwing it all away for your silly fantasy. What about David, what about Anneleos? And Crutchie and Stanfe? I could rip you apart. I know how you feel right now. You know it isn't right. Aren't you some savior."
Those words pained Jack more than the press. His breath hitched. She knew what ate at him in the night and how to punch him in the stomach with it. Stinfemmie could read him like a newspaper and leave him wordless. But he shook his head.
"I can't stick around knowing I have the ability to do some good. For once."
The typewriter had been taken out abruptly and set--no, thrown on to the well polished desk a few feet from it.
"It has to be done tonight," Katherine Plumber stated to the cougar following by her side. "No sleep, and absolutely no tomorrow!"
"Of course. Here you go again," Calaminus responded cooly. "And what is the reasoning this time?"
She shook her head, red messy curls bouncing when she leaned down to scratch behind his ears. "Those boys are counting on me, Calaminus. Picture how no soul in New York knows or cares about what those poor kids go through! Someone has to expose the innards. And that someone is me."
"I'm well aware," he purred. "But what do you demand to do with no sleep? You know you don't work well under the influence of drowsiness. When you wake up your paper will be a slur of words."
This was her dæmon. Of course Katherine's urgency was surging through his body, but being her soul he also contained the parts of her with common sense.
"It..." she sighed in defeat. "It isn't just about the boys, Calaminus," Katherine spoke, hands full of ink as she travelled to her desk.
"You and I both know that nobodys ever hearda no girl reporters, " she mocked the boy, Jack Kelly's voice. "This is my breakthrough. This is what I am meant to write about. A city-wide strike is huge news, and if I ever want to be taken seriously as a girl and Pulitzer's little daughter, I have to do this."
The cougar sat beside her and pushed his head into her side, rubbing his head along her corset. Despite his settled form, his human counterpart wasn't ever taken seriously. A cougar. Strength, determination, stubbornness, drive. Her father had laughed in her face when he saw her dæmon's chosen animal that best described her. A proper girl should not have those traits! Is what passerby's clucked. He also stood for elegance and wealth, but Katherine would never acknowledge that part of them.
"Even sticking to vaudeville reviews, which by the way, are extraordinaire, you have a way with words. That is why the Jack boy trusted you."
"Who else does he--the boys have to rely on, though?"
"Nobody. And you are their change. That is why you are so special," he responded, and in an attempt to leap into Katherine's lap she pushed his face down with her hand. "His dæmon is a badger," he hissed in surprise, regaining his composure. "Secretive and sneaky. Even I'm surprised he went along with you. But the power is in your hands."
Katherine smiled, rubbing the cougar's chin. "Leave it to you to get me out of a bad spot. Lets do this."
It only took a few hours before Calaminus had replaced the typewriter Katherine lay fast asleep on.
Anneleos trotted anxiously back and forth at the foot of David's bed, nearly stopping when she reached his side several times but then tirelessly returning to her motions. When David would reach a hand out to her, she'd shy away and mutter nonsense to herself.
"Okay," he set down his stack of papers into his lap abruptly. "If you're gonna keep doing..." he gestured towards her, "that, maybe do it outside the bedroom. Les and Sottecie are asleep."
David knew the doe couldn't go too far from him, or their soul tie would strain and send them both spiraling into pain. But he needed to focus. To think.
"No, no, I do want to help--it's just-"
Anneleos let him rest a gentle hand on her head. "I know, I know. You're stressed--I am too. But using up all your energy outside the streets won't help us sell off our load."
The doe looked down at his stack of unsold newspapers, pushing them over with her nose to lay her head on his legs.
"I want to help out. I want to make change in this family. Dad is injured and I am the only one who can do something about it. Les is young and he shouldn't have to be out there on the streets working for a few pennies! "
"Look who's sputtering nonsense now," Anneleos spoke softly, nudging his hand with her nose. "That charming boy--Jack Kelly, was it? He's offered us help. I think we can trust him."
David smiled, running a few new-calloused fingers over his dæmon's snout. "You're right. But we still need to pick up the pace if he really wants to pull through with this strike."
"And we'll have all the time to think about that in the morning," the doe replied. "Let's relax for now, yeah? Keep ourselves calm before the storm."
He grinned, picking up the newspapers and setting them on the nightstand, then patting his blanket as an invitation for the dæmon.
A doe. Gentle, compassionate, resilient.
"Maybe life is getting tougher, but I'll always have you."
" Once and for all! " The young boy shouted, holding up his finalized print of strike papers, followed by the roar of every newsie and their dæmons in New York. The dæmon on his shoulder currently took the form of a mouse, yet ferocious and ready. But small.
Sottecie always had a tiny presence, despite how big Les felt. He spoke loudly with proud words, and took all the action he could when it came to the strike.
Les knew the answer. Deep down, he was afraid. Scared for the health of his father, scared Jack would change his mind and run off to Santa Fe, and most importantly, worrying about the health of his older brother. And so his unsettled dæmon would only ever shift into small creatures. But she was by his side. That's all that mattered to him.
That's why he turned around, speechless when he heard a bloodthirsty snarl. He was prepared to turn and stay to the side when the bulls came--to hang uselessly over the shoulder of a corrupt policeman while brothers and their settled dæmons fought. Sottecie leapt here and there, a wolverine, claws flying across the flanks of the bulls' dæmons, injuring their human counterparts.
When the battle is over and the governor has come to their rescue, he takes the time to stare at her. "Is this us?"
The wolverine bared her teeth in a grin. "This is us."
It was the simplest thing, being able to tell when Joseph Pulitzer was upset. He was a serious man--a constant storm brewing. But when Phuscocer stared down Pulitzer's workers, death in her eyes and a growl to her breath, it was passed around and everyone knew to proceed with caution.
A black jaguar. Power, violence, mystery, strength.
Today it was different. Worse. The black jaguar had swiped at a swallowtail following his human as they passed by his office. Everyone knew it was taboo to lay a finger on anyones dæmon, because their human could feel it too.
"Calm yourself, Phuscocer," the man growled as his dæmon retreated through the office doors. "I'll let you tend to your... violent streak in just a moment."
He ran a hand down the jaguar's back just as his daughter stumbled into her office with determination--no, fear in her eyes. Pulitzer heard Phuscocer purr in satisfaction. She saw it too.
"Your daughter. She's afraid."
"I believe I have finally caught the culprit who's been printing strike material against me."
Now he towered over the girl just as his dæmon stood, snarling at the cougar that cowered behind Katherine. If she was trying to put on a brave face, her dæmon sure ruined the illusion. One glance at someone's soul and you can basically read their mind.
"You don't understand what you are doing to those boys!" She spat angrily. "Please, at least read the paper if you won't listen to me. They're--"
" Enough! " He roared. Katherine swore the building shook. Pulitzer eyed her dæmon, now cowering on the cold tile below her.
"I offer you a life of wealth and this is how you repay me?" Phuscocer stepped on the paw of Calaminus, and he watched Katherine shudder. The jaguar's silence didn't surprise him--dæmons weren't fond of communicating around other people.
With a gesture, the two and their dæmons made their way to his desk.
"Maybe I can't make you do as I say with my words, so I'll try something else."
Pulitzer saw the terror spread across her face as she shrunk in front of him. He knew his daughter listened to no one--feared no one. No one except him.
But by the time his hand was raised, Katherine cried out in pain and sunk, holding herself. In shock he froze, then whipped around, watching the scene of the jaguar violently attacking the cougar unfold. Phuscocer had him pinned, claws sinking into Calaminus's shoulders. Blood trickled on to the floor and seeped through his fur.
"Perhaps the job is already done--"
Somebody ran into the room.
"H-hes here, the boy!"
"Send him to me at once," Pulitzer hissed, and the woman retreated. Katherine was stood by his desk, tears forming in her eyes. She was furious and swaying. She was hurt just as the cougar. Maybe it wasn't visible on her skin, but she was pale.
There was a knock.
" Sit, " he growled. And when Katherine refused, he looked over to his dæmon.
The knock repeated, and a familiar grey cap and blue button-up were visible between the crack of the door.
"I said sit! " With his words, Phuscocer sunk her teeth into Calaminus's side. Katherine sat.
He didn't think he would make it. He knew he wasn't able to pull through.
The refuge was freezing during the night, and blankets weren't an option. Crutchie believed he should be used to the filth, but Stanfe's discomfort told him otherwise. She was weak, and so was he.
"We failed, Crutchie."
He didn't look at her as she laid on his torso. His hands only ran down her golden fur and then up again.
"Did you hear me? I said we--"
"I know, Stanfe," Crutchie nodded sadly. When the bulls had come, he was completely helpless. He could only scream for help when his good leg gave out and when he was soaked with his own crutch. Even in the bed he lay in, he was horribly bruised. He swore he was blind in one eye and blood soaked the front of his shirt. But he knew the golden retriever so desperately wanted to help.
He always did love her drive and her form. A dog--a retriever. Everybody could spot his loyalty from a mile away.
Crutchie watched his dæmon look down at her own missing forearm. His stomach growled, and the dog licked his hand.
"We can fight em, Stanfe!" He spoke with hope, but her expression didn't uplift him like he expected. "We's still strong, and I's lasted this long--just you wait till Jack comes in and busts us out."
"Not anymore. Jack...he has the strike now. Where will we get our strength from anyways? There ain't no food here, Crutchie. You're starving and you can't walk--look how they beat you! And me--I'm only as strong as you are. Your injuries..."
A sorry look filled her eyes when Crutchie held his breath. "Don't worry. I'm going to be here with you no matter what. I'll fight for you, and I will find a way. Don't you worry."
He had no choice but be forced to listen to her words. Despite his cheerful exterior, his dæmon spoke what he truly felt and thought, on the inside. He was hurt. Badly. Without the proper care, mixed with the filth of this place, there was no fixing his situation.
And so he closed his eyes and dreamt of Santa Fe. The place his best friend and brother Jack Kelly told him of. Where he and Stanfe could run free together, without worrying about the leg that held him back. She shared his pain, despite the fact his leg was still intact and she was born without hers. That was how they discovered Crutchie's polio so early. But that didn't help.
Stanfe, he exhaled. His dæmon who out of everyone, never stopped believing in him and never looked down on his poor leg.
Her name sounded a lot like that place. Santa Fe. His perfect place.
Even though he will never get there, he can reach her.
"Look at me, the king-a New York!"
Racetrack Higgins blew puffs of smoke up into the air. He was hanging out on the rooftop. This was Jack's usual spot, but he had gone missing ever since the bulls had come and snagged Crutchie.
"Yeah, 'n so is I!" His raccoon dæmon grinned, slithering up on to his shoulder and excitedly pointing a finger at the paper Race was holding.
The redhead reporter let him keep her copy because she saw how much he admired it.
"This is like a dream, Rapheng. Look at us! We is the headline!"
This was the paper that would show them. Show the world. They weren't some scrappy newsboys to be thrown around and used like dolls. Race knew that him and Jack were judged on the streets for the form of their dæmons. Nobody wanted a scrappy raccoon or a terrorizing badger associating. But that wasn't true.
"They really do look down on you for me," Rapheng sighed, holding an unlit cigar to match his human. "I'm nothin' like they all think, though. We both got a huge purpose, and we's just want to make a livin'!"
Race sat upright, stroking the Raccoon's tail on his shoulder.
"You listen here. As long as I'm alive 'n breathin', nobody is gonna crap on you for anything. We're in this together, alright? We'll kick old Joe and Hearst in they asses and show em what we is made of, okay?"
Out of everything and everyone, Rapheng was the one he trusted most. He was one of those rare dæmons that shared the same sex as him, but he only believed it drove them closer. The only other individual he knew shared this trait was the king of Brooklyn and his spotted hyena.
"Don't have to chew it finer for me!" The dæmon grinned.
"A strike, eh?" Spot Conlon sneered, speaking to his dæmon beside him. "You up to it?"
"I say that what you say, is what I say," the hyena chuckled. He had a smart mouth, just like his human counterpart.
"We'll take Kuzix's word for it, folks!" Spot cheered to nobody, and the two of them laughed.
They were lounging under a usual spot under the Brooklyn bridge. Spot had just blew off the last of his papers, and Kuzix was feeling lazy. The Manhattan boy Racetrack Higgins had stopped by just moments ago, giving Spot all the information on setting a city-wide strike into motion. Although the fame, the notorious Spot Conlon spent almost all his time alone with his dæmon. Kuzix was a larger hyena, and that is what most likely caught everyone's eye in the first place. He didn't care about how the prissy rich people of Brooklyn viewed him and his dæmon.
"Jack Kelly's leadin' it," the hyena spoke. "He's oh-so legendary there in Manhattan."
"Smart kid, though," Spot spoke as if he were older. "And I'm real tired of these nobodys thinkin' that we newsboys is nothin' short of trash."
"Now that you mention it, I'd love to run with some newsboys and soak the bulls's dæmons. Keep our status."
"I hear ya," he scratched Kuzix's chin. "We'll tell the boys tomorrow, yeah?"
becca_char Tue 15 Jul 2025 02:56AM UTC
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