Chapter 1:
Reflect Upon Thyself
Hastie Lanyon had his ear against the door, listening to the strange gasping utterances with mounting dread. Surely he must leave before Jekyll threw open the door to find him, old Hastie, stupidly gaping and full of suspicion. He had only come on an errand – to fetch the mysterious phials for which the good doctor had requested – why, he could simply leave the package at the door and walk away, none the wiser. But no – these were valuable substances. Jekyll had said as much. So what now - ?
The despicable creature writhed before Henry in a grotesque erotic dance. In the mirror the doctor saw his younger self, the same brilliant eyes – but twisted and snarling and malevolently charming. Edward Hyde's unkempt locks hung in tangled vines, half-shielding his face and glaring golden eyes. He was smallish, lithe, naked: a smattering of silky chest hair trailing down his torso to a place Henry had not even looked at in a long time. Ah, I am – I was – perfect, he thought. What happened? Did I never – no, forget it, distracting desires. Yet here was this delectable boy-man in the mirror, the epitome of all he had missed.
All he was not.
Or was.
"Go away," he told Edward.
"Why?" the imp of a man answered. "Do you not want me anymore?"
When the doctor ignored him, he pressed on. "Only you birthed me, and now I cannot go back in… I suppose you'll have to live with me. I cannot unmake myself and you cannot unmake me."
Cannot go back in. Cannot go back….cannot be unmade…..
"Henry?" Lanyon knocked a few times. Ach, but you are too timid! he berated himself. Why, Henry could be dying in there and you wouldn't have the courage to break down the door. A mouse! Not a man. That was what Mrs. Lanyon had oft said: one day his mousiness would cost a life. Jekyll's life, in this case.
Ah but he wasn't dying, was he? No, he must be merely having the time of his life with…who? A pretty young thing in need of medical help? Lanyon shuddered at the possibilities of all the intimate acts and sexual chicanery that could easily go on between doctor and patient, between a distinguished man in his forties and an impressionable young woman.
But that wasn't quite a woman's voice, right there, was it…
"You called me into being and now you want me to dissolve like one of your chemicals, your powders, your salts. How like a scientist!" said Edward. He leaned against the mirror-glass almost casually. On the other side – the real side; but what was real anymore? – Henry had his back turned to the doppelganger, fumbling in his bags for a pinch of that, that miracle salt – just a pinch, and then it would all go away. For a while. Just for a while.
"He's waiting at the door," Edward hissed, knowing what his other half was after. "With the ingredients for your precious potion."
"Piss off." Where was it, no, he had kept an emergency supply – hadn't he?
The doppelganger was hurt. "Oh. How convenient. Is this how you dismiss your lovers?"
Ignoring him, Henry continued to check his coat pockets, his pants. Sweat trickled down his arms and back.
Is that why you can never keep a woman in your be – "
"I said PISS OFF." A droplet of spittle flew out of Henry's mouth and landed on the mirror. To his revolt, the creature extended his pink tongue (so demons, too, have pink flesh, thought Henry) and licked the surface where the spit had landed. Licked the cool glass with his hot tongue. Enraged without knowing why, Henry landed a blow on the glass. It shook and Edward fell.
"There," he gasped, "you have me now. Conquer me, go on."
"I refuse to so much as touch you, you reviling creature."
"Go on. Make me sorry." The young man exposed his neck, which was the colour of pale pinewood. Unconsciously Henry touched his own skin. Did it really look like that? He was surprised to feel himself studying the young man in the mirror. Godssake, was he really this remarkable piece of work once? Had he looked just like that, without the nastiness and matted hair and sneering lips?
"I'm sorry." Now Edward was pathetic-like. "I cannot help myself."
"But I can," replied Henry. "And I command you to disappear."
"Oh Henry, how you hurt me! You horrid horrid man you, you hypocrite!" He genuinely flinched as if burnt by the command. "Have mercy, Doctor Jekyll, I beg you."
At the mention of his upstanding profession Henry strode toward the mirror and laid his hand on it, as if he would grab Hyde by the neck and shake him. "Do not," he enunciated as calmly as he could manage, "mock me. You are the mockery; you are the reflection."
Now Hastie was shifting from foot to foot like a man who will not hold his urine for much longer. His hand reached toward the doorknob, gripped it, jiggled it. He knocked again – louder now. "Henry?' he called. "Dr Jekyll?"
In return he got a moan that was so suggestive as to alarm him greatly. "Doctor, I'll just…leave this here, shall I?" he called over the scandalous din. Gingerly he laid the package at the door…
"Yes. I am the reflection." Edward laughed, the pretence of remorse gone. He had so enjoyed the look on Henry's face when he cried out so as to scare poor Lanyon away. "I think the old man has gone now," he murmured. "Wonder what sort of rumours will get out…"
"Stop it!" Jekyll banged on the mirror, again and again. "Stop it stop it you are not in control you are not – "
Suddenly his fingers were being gripped by Hyde's. Slowly he looked down in dread and felt faint: his hand had all but passed through the glass. Part of him had actually gone over to the other side.
"You know it's all a hallucination, don't you?" whispered Edward. "You can make it disappear. I tell you the truth." He took two of Henry's fingers and placed them in his mouth. Slowly and meticulously he sucked them, brushed them with his warm tongue, pushed them deeper till they touched the beginning of his throat while emitting muffled sighs. Henry simply watched, mesmerised by the hypnotic undulating of Hyde's moist lips. As he looked he had the strangest sensation – of Hyde's fingers in his mouth. Or rather, his own fingers in his mouth. He tried to cry out, he could not – gagged by his own flesh.
Oh the horror!
He pulled his hand back abruptly causing Edward to fall toward the glass surface – and this time it was the doppelganger who reached out and pulled him in.
The his world went upside down and everything dissolved into a painful whirlwind of colour.
Edward Hyde rose from his foetal position on the floor, fully formed and as solid as Henry had been. This time he found that he no longer skulked and crouched: he could stand almost as straight as the 'good doctor'. For a moment he had a mocking urge to grab Jekyll's fancy silver-topped cane and strike a pose – then he laughed and forgot all about it. He was as light and free and careless as a newly flown fledgling.
Minutes later he returned to the mirror to look at himself – he was dressed in one of Henry Jekyll's dapper midnight blue suits complete with a smoke-grey satin cravat and crimson kerchief. His hair was washed and combed, and hung in damp wavy locks. None of that neatly trimmed crop-and-sideburns for him. Tonight he had decided on the role of a ladies' man: charming, deshabille and a little dangerous.
He did have, he noticed, much of that sleazy menacing air still that no amount of cologne and tailored suits would dilute. Oh well. Put yourself out there and let them make of you what they will – always had been his creed.
As he did some last adjustments to the cravat, the pleading face of Henry suddenly surfaced in the mirror – "Don't do this!" it seemed to be mouthing. Now he was the one with the madly tousled hair and desperate scowl while his evil half appeared the perfect gentleman. Smiling, Edward only waved at him and walked out of the house with a whistle on his lips.
He saw that the package Lanyon was supposed to have left at the door was nonexistent. Oh well. Pity the fool who happened to lay his hands on it and experiment with the compounds inside. The air outside was cool and sharp: waiting for a devil to walk the streets. With a laugh that was almost more joyful than mocking, he embarked on his venture.
