Page 38 of Fragile Wicked Things
"Yer a bad 'un," the coal man said.
He had a look in his eye—one of rage, of desire, of resolve—and I remained so focused on his eyes that I paid little attention to the glint he held in his hand until he brought it towards my mother and sliced open her throat. She reached up with both hands to close the great wound to her neck, but the blood gushed out, and she fell to her knees, producing gurgling sounds as she hit the ground with a thump.
"Mama," I cried.
The men turned my way, descending on me as I stepped back into the shadows, pressing myself against the building so I could disappear into it. The murderous fiend held the bloodied knife up, and his smile widened. The other grabbed me, and knocked my head against the brick wall, rendering me semi-conscious as I dropped to the ground.
By all accounts, I should not have survived that night. My eyes opened and shut, fighting against the loss of consciousness. When I opened them again, struggling, I saw the men standing near me, bent over, reaching out to me to do harm. Behind them, a figure rose out from the steamy alleyway, and one of the men disappeared, ripped right out from where he had been standing. His nails dug into the ground as he was dragged away, his cries piercing the night. Whatever took him growled and tore at the man as he screamed out vile things to the creature. The coal man picked up a copper pipe and swung it over his head to strike at the beast, but when he swung his arm, it stopped firm in mid-air by the creature. The coal man was then lifted high in the air and thrown across the way; the animal pounced on him.
I closed my eyes. In the distance, I heard the screams of the man being torn to shreds. My mother hadn't screamed. My mother. Where could she be? I opened my eyes in search of her, but my head hurt when I tried to move it. I shifted a bit until I found her figure slumped over on the ground. I wanted to call out, but couldn't do that either. Where did the animal go and would it come for me next?
The attackers were dead, and the creature now approached me from the darkness. It stood over me and something dropped on me, landing on my forehead, and when I wiped it away, I stared at the blood smeared on my hand. Blackness overshadowed me. The creature bent over and scooped me up in its arms. Something handled me, lifting me up to safety, gently, in a most tender fashion. In the darkness, I could not see the creature's face. It bounced me up and down as it walked the rest of the alleyway and put me into a carriage. Someone else there helped it, then shut the door. I heard footsteps climb onto the driver's bench seat to steer the horses and we were off.
The carriage hurried down the streets of London, jostling me to alertness. The windows were covered in heavy, black fabric, so I could not see out. I swayed against the creature's chest, its arm still around me to keep me close and support me in a sitting position. I placed the palm of my hand against its chest and waited for the rise and fall of its breath. The wait was long, and I closed my eyes, giving in to exhaustion.
* * *
I awokewith a start from a frightful nightmare and, with my throat sore, could not call out to my mother. Twisting the blanket tight in my hands, I curled up on the sofa. I didn't know where I was. The room was large with pointed arches, a two-story high fan-vaulted ceiling and a fireplace near me shaped like a tomb. Light from several gas lamps illuminated the faces of noblemen and noblewomen in paintings, the flames flickered, inflicting a distortion on their faces, making them out to look like creatures. Each time I turned to another painting, I stared at another horrific image and gasped. My head ached and when I tried to lift myself up, the room spun and my head fell back onto a pillow.
A door opened and slammed shut in another room, followed by voices in the corridor just outside the room where I lay in. A man and woman argued. Her voice was harsh and the coldness to her sound filled me with terror, while his words revealed his exasperation. They moved into the room and she was so engrossed in the argument, that she didn't notice me. She had brought a coldness into the room that sent a shiver through my body when only moments before the temperature had been warm. Now I could see my breath. The woman held a riding stick in her left hand, tore her hat from atop her red hair, tossed it on a chair, and brought her hand high in the air and whipped the stick down hard on the hat. The wood whizzed through the air several times and she didn't stop until the hat lay there crumpled. Overcome by fear, I shut my eyes, pretending to sleep.
"What do you have there, Edward?" Her voice had calmed down, a hint of intrigue in her question and her satin gown rustled as she approached me. "Is she for me?"
"The poor girl just lost her mother," said the man she had called Edward.
"She's alone then? No one's going to miss you." She sang the last bit to me. There was a breeze near me as she bent over, and then a coldness came over my body when the blanket lifted from my tiny frame. Despite her closeness, I couldn't detect her breath, and on my cheek, felt the flicker of her tongue. Her dress rustled some more, and she let out a wail as she was yanked away from me, no doubt at the hands of Edward.
"No harm is to come to her," he said.
The red-haired woman laughed. "My, my, my, such a heroic gesture. Or does Edward want the little plaything all to himself? What is it you want, love? Another child like when you were one of them?" The sweetness in her voice disappeared, replaced by a deep hunger when she said, "She smells delicious."
A crash echoed in the room. Something was knocked over and rattled to the floor. My eyes flew open. Edward held the woman against a wall and, in the darkness, it appeared they were high off the floor and her feet swung below her skirt, but I attributed the illusion to my head injury.
"I should have left you where I found you," he said.
"Walled up alive in that nunnery? Leave me there to be quiet and unmolested?"
"Twasn't a nunnery! I dare to imagine what you offered the guard who allowed you out at night."
"Yes, you found me and were so rapt in my beauty that you couldn't wait to do all sorts of nasty things with me. Oh, my love, I want to do bad things with you."
"Go near her and I will tear out your heart."
"I can smell them on you. Who did you kill tonight? Was it her parents? Did they fight back decently or cowardly like so many of them?"
"Leave," Edward said.
"Their blood is still pumping in you. Let me lick the blood from your face, from your hands."
The woman bent towards him, her tongue out and he let go of her, releasing her to the floor below and she landed with a thud. "Give me just a taste. Shall I beg for it?" she said.
The woman, her red hair now in disarray, crawled along the floor towards him as he stood by an upturned side table. A demoniac laugh rumbled in her belly and escaped through her throat. She stopped on her hands and knees in front of him and looked up with a girl-like innocence, a daughter pleading not to be spanked for her impudence. Then she threw herself backwards and spread her legs open, running her hands along her body as she writhed on the floor. Her hand disappeared under her petticoat and she moaned.
"Did they plead for their lives? Tell me how you killed them. Tell me what they tasted like. My Darkness, you're back."
Edward remained motionless, not engaging in her behavior.
"The girl tastes like strawberries," she said.
