So, in the last chapter I unfortunately mentionned that Alice was going at Padiham while she was in fact more going to Downham. Sorry.
Chapter 1
An ordinary candle, inscribed with tiny symbols of Correspondence. No darkness can abash its bold green flame. Ideal for birthday parties.
When Alice woke she immediately knew there was something strang;, she was in a bed, it was warm, comfortable, and dry, there was no smell. In short, that wasn't normal. Slowly, as the haze that slowed down her mind began to disperse, memories from last night started to emerge. The ambush by the men and the witch, check, the apparition of the weird man, check, the triple murder in less than five seconds, check. After that, things were a little fuzz. Mostly because the conversation they had was one of the most phantasmagorical, downright unreal in fact, that she had ever had. He, Jonathan, spoke of a cavern the size of Europe, of creature made of clay that walked and lived, of a place were everything was alive and candle screamed as they burned, of drowned people singing under bridges, a forbidden language that made people mad and paper burst ablaze, mysterious masters ruling London, an underground sea, the Zee, filled with monsters, horrors and mysteries and a thousand more unbelievable thing that nonetheless were entirely true. The worst was probably that he wasn't just spelling out academic text, it was all things he had experienced himself, tales of his expeditions on the Zee, horror stories of his search for knowledge inside London and the inevitable madness it resulted in numerous time. How could someone voluntary research something when he knew it would only end with him going insane, then recover its senses only to do it again? His rat, Henry, had added his own commentary for most of his tale, describing the inside of a whole other world of rats and small things as terrifying as the one Jonathan lived in.
.
By the time they had arrived at Downham they both had barely finished to recount a tenth of their common adventures. Once there, Alice guided them to one of the more secure inn of the town, or the only one if you wanted to get technical, the Three Sisters. Jonathan had almost smashed the front door after the first five minutes of knocking and then, when the owner of the inn had complained about being awoken, had thrown a diamond at his face, announcing he was renting the building for as long as he wanted and that his horse better be cared for right now. That kind of kicked off the owner to say the least. Last thing she remembered was the fatigue that had finally caught up to her and the feeling of falling onto the bed and closing her eyes.
.
Her mind a little clearer now, she peeked at the room from under the sheets. It was a single room with a bed, a simple wardrobe, a big chest which also served as a table and a single window. Oh yeah, there was also Henry on the chest, chipping away a block of something.
"Awake missy?"
"Hum." She still found it weird to hear a rat talking in a so human way. "Yes. What time is it?"
"After breakfast, but a little before dinner I think."
"Okay, and where is Jonathan?"
"In his room, end of the corridor, talking with a cat."
"Heu..." Was that a code for something or was he really speaking with a cat?
In any case, she extracted herself from the blankets.
"Boss left you some clothes." He pointed at the wardrobe.
"Why?"
Alice looked down at her attire. The fabric of her robe was a little rough for sure, the brown slightly faded, the cut a little short as she had grown since she had got it and the design was extremely simple, but it was normal to her. Maybe it was her long pointed shoes?
"Miss, you look like a mix between a dirty urchin and a tomb-colonist. Boss words."
"Hu-hum. Really?"
"Swear. Me it's the shoes I ain't getting."
"What about my shoes?"
"Why pointy?"
"Because I'm a witch." That seemed self evident.
"If witch have pointy shoes, should you not wear anying but pointy shoes so people don't think you're a witch?"
"Because... I don't have any other pair."
It was a terrible excuse and they both knew it. The look Henry gave him was almost spelling 'really?'. As she was making her way toward the wardrobe she turned the question inside her head, finding no real answer and that bothered her. Especially has she thought of all the occasion when her shoes had been problematic. Maybe Tom brother wouldn't have been so aggressive if she had been wearing regular boots the first time they met.
.
She opened the double door of the wardrobe, revealing one of the most rich and unique outfit she had ever seen. First, there was the deep black leather boots that went as high as her knees and where laced by white laces. Sewed inside them were discreet sheaths onto which thin blades had been slid. Next was a two layers robe without sleeves that stopped once at her knees and a second time at her ankles. Thin belt at interval allowed to adjust the wideness. The robe was of a beautiful black, not a washed or – as weird as it sounded- evil as she usually saw. It was more like the black of a night sky, deep yet peaceful, and like a night sky each time the tissue moved Alice could have swore that brief flash of silver light like stars appeared in the clothing. Hanging on the side were overlap of light red silk hidding small pockets whose end where closed by buttons and gave her access to the underneath of her clothing. Then there was the blood red corset reinforced by sheets of steel, just tight enough to straighten her figure, but not enough to impede her, descending to her waist. Around it she had a large red brown belt to which an empty holster was attached. Finalizing the ensemble was a dark red jacket with large shoulders and long sleeves that slightly opened outward at the end.
"Wow." That was the only thing that inhabited her mind for several seconds. Then, the deranging question. "Henry."
"Yes miss?"
"Why did Jonathan have a dress my size and where was he keeping it?"
"Wasn't miss."
"What?"
"It wasn't your size and he was keeping it in his saddlebag." There was no inflection in his tone.
"But then how can it be my size? And his saddlebags weren't big enough for the dress, so how?"
The Rabbus Faber shrugged. "Clothing and pockets have their own will in the Neath missy. Best not to ponder about it too much, I think they would find it offensive."
"Who? The pockets?"
The rat nodded.
"That's stupid. A pocket isn't a... thing. They're pockets!" The frustration in her voice was evident.
"Really? You ain't ever put something in your pockets then, fo'r no reason they disappeared?"
"Hum, well... yes. But I don't see what it..."
"Offensed pocket missy."
That shut her up. Partly because she didn't feel like getting a headache by arguing so soon after getting up and also because she had the strange feeling that she might actually be in the wrong.
With a sigh, she walked to exit the room before stopping and turning back toward Henry.
"Hum, he... would you like me to transport you back to Jonathan?"
"Well that pretty nice of you miss."
A little uncertain, she extended her hand to him and, after having picked up his work, he jumped onto her palm. A little awkwardly, she carried him to the so-called gentleman room.
.
The moment she opened the door it wasn't brightness, but shadows that greeted her. The window had been completely covered so that only a dim ray of light entered the room, the only source of it beside the bright candle set on the table. Though the green flame wasn't reassuring in the slightest. In the low light, she could discern a large bed with a whole array of blades and firearms on it, some covered by heavy pieces of fabric, a table with a food plate on it, two chairs, a big wardrobe and a large flat chest. Jonathan was currently sitting in one of the chair reading an old and decaying looking tome by the light of a candle that hurt Alice's eyes. Not the light per say, but the indescribable symbols written on the wax that almost seemed to glow stronger than the flame.
"Alice. I see you are awake. Come, come, I kept a little food for you."
She let Henty walk on the table with his little bag before sitting down and beginning to eat. From most she would have suspected some form of treachary, but this man had had all night to do so and was already mad enough to smile to a Dread so she doubted there was really any quick spell she could use against him anyway, meaning there was no point to worry about. Alice engulfed the warm soup and bread on the plate, ripped parts of the apple, devoured the lard and drank the pitcher of water in less than five minutes with a passion rarely seen outside people engaging into a two-day travel without any food or water.
"Hum, It seem you were quite hungry."
The girl in red leaned against the back of the chair.
"That was great."
"It was my pleasure." He closed his book. "Miss Alice, now that you are rested and satiated though, I was wondering if you would be incline to answer some of my questions.
Ah, here it was, the true motivation. "What kind of questions?"
"Simple questions really."
"Will you answer mine as well?"
"But of course."
Alice adjusted her position and her dress by the same occasion.
"Then okay if I can start."
He nodded, still smirking. "As you wish miss Alice."
.
She focused her eyes on him. "Why the dress?"
"Because you looked like a dirty urchin and..."
"a tomb-colonist. Yes, Henry already told me. But why give it to me?"
"Many reason. I found myself in a similar situation a long time ago and thus know by personal experience that changing from rag to respectable clothing is an especially empowering experience. Also, you are a too beautiful maiden to be walking around in shabby clothing. Do you find it unacceptable?"
"No, no. It's just that I had never seen this kind of dress before."
"It is probably because it is the latest of London fashion and thus won't be created for at least two centuries."
"Ah, yeah."
"My turn then. Can I assume that the women who escaped into the forest was a witch?"
"Yes you can."
He smiled and it was as if the light in the room had dropped ten degrees.
"Okay. Yes, she was one."
"Then, even though she was mortally wounded, why did you insisted into going after her and was it related to her condition as a witch?"
"Well, because the only real way to be sure a witch is dead is by burning her or eating her heart."
"Really? What if you only burn her heart?"
"Hum, I suppose it would also work."
"And if you dissolve her into acid or base?"
"Acid? Base?"
"Ah, yes, 17th century. What if I were to grind a witch into dust?"
"... I don't really know."
"Then what if I put one in a vacuum?"
"A what?"
"A box empty of any air or gas."
"I don't..."
"And what if I froze one until her blood become like glass and shred her inside?"
"I don't know okay!"
There was a pause, then. "I have the feeling that people around here haven't really experimented this whole only able to be kill by fire or heart eating thing."
"Why would anyone do that?" The frustration in Alice voice was evident.
"But to observe, learn and understand. It is human nature to try to understand this world and all of its mysteries after all, no matter the cost. Though I can understand why you are upset. I suppose my talk might suggest that I want to kill witches on sight and consider them evil. I can assure you this is not at all the case."
She frowned. "I...never mind. Just go on with the weird questions."
"As you wish. Do witch have any supernatural weakness?"
"Salt, rowan wood, can't cross running water and silver."
"So a common resource, a common tree, a common occurrence and a rare mineral, understood. So witches cannot eat anything that as been salted?"
"Hum, I guess."
"Aren't you a witch?"
"Kinda."
He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda?"
"Well. I have been trained as a witch, but I never really used full blood, bones or familiar magic so I guess you need to do one of those to gain the weakness."
"Blood, bones or familiar magic?"
"The three kinds of magic witches use. A witch can do spells and that kind of thing but to boost their powers their can drink the blood of people, favorably young children, or using their bones, the thumbs especially, or even by using creatures, familiars."
"What kind of powers do witches have?"
"Stenght greater than a man, the power to sense people around us, premonitions, the ability to watch through mirrors or the eyes of their familiars, curse people, these kinds of things. I don't really think I could describe all of what we can do in less than a week."
She gave a weak sorry smile while Jonathan leaned back on his chair.
"It's not a problem. You simply have corroborated the information the cat have already told me."
"Which cat?" Henry had talked about a cat, but where was it? Was it a familiar?
The meow almost made her jump from her seat, the sudden black form that landed in front of her certainly did.
"Ah!"
The black ball of fur hissed at her and actually seemed to frown at her before walking away with its tail raised and curling around the marked candle. Even while bating in the green dangling light it seemed to be little more than a patch of air that had been filled with black ink.
"Where did it come from!?"
Jonathan simply smiled. "From wherever cats come from Alice. I don't think anyone, even the masters, can truly be said to know where they are and what cats do."
"But, you said it talked to you?"
"Well yes it did."
"How? Cats don't talk here."
"That is because you never asked properly noisy girl." The voice was but a whisper into Alice hear and yet she found herself absolutely immobilized by a terror like she had never experienced. It wasn't the terror of violence or of intimidation, but of some sort of inapprehensible force, a force that had crossed the distance between the candle and her shoulder in less than a second without making a single sound or even a swift of air moving. "You human always except everything to simply fall on your leap and happen immediately. Maybe if you'd learn patience and proper manners you would know then."
And just as swiftly as before, the presence was gone and the drop of ink back around the candle.
.
"..." Alice gulped.
"I do think they do, miss Alice."
"And... how did you convince him to talk with you?"
"By sneaking on her, of course."
The cat emitted a single low purr to which Jonathan responded with a single gentle stroke with only one finger from the animal head to the middle of its back. How on hell had he sneaked on that was beyond her.
"Anyhow. Henry, are the magnesium shells ready?"
She turned her head in the direction of the rat who was filling cylinders with a metallic powder.
"Ready boss."
"Perfect. Now then, what do you want to do miss Alice?"
"Sorry?"
"I agreed to be your bodyguard did I not? As such, what do you want to do today?"
"Oh, hum." She needed time to think. "Before that, why are some of your things covered?"
A pause, then. "Things unique to the Neath are destroyed by the light of the ungrateful sun."
There was scorn in is voice and undisguised hatred, as if this was a personal insult to him.
"Oh, will that be a problem?"
"No, no it won't. It is not the first time I had to walk under the burning light of our petty star."
"Okay. Then I think we should go meet an aunt. She is probably the only one who won't denounce me."
He rose from his chair. "It is decided then." Then grabbed a small revolver and slid it in her direction. "This one his for your hip holster." Then grabbed an even tinier weapon with only two minuscule barrel one over another. "And this one for your leg. You have four shot with the first and two with the second. I don't think you ever have fired a revolver before and we don't really have the time to train you so here are the basic. You need to cock the hammer before each shot, keep your finger off the trigger until you are absolutely ready to shoot, don't try to hit anything further than ten meters and watch out for the kickback."
Tense, Alice picked up the two cold metal object. "You're giving me this?"
"Yes. Do not worry for me, as the son of an American at London I made it a point of honor to live up to our reputation of gun obsessed and thus own quite a lot of them. Now let's go."
Five minutes later they had packed up and Alice was experimenting the strange sensation of walking armed. Sure she had packed a knife before, but the revolver weighing down on her hip was a whole other kind of thing. As the noon sun raised to its peak, two figure left the town. One in red dress, like a drop of blood walking in the sunlight, the other a patch of black on a horse as dark as the blackest night that seemed to drag shadows with him.
