But, I just couldn't not upload and leave you guys hanging like I have for the past several weeks! It's appalling, I know. Alas, here I am, bearing the next lovely chapter for you guys. I'd love to know what you guys think so far, so please feel free to message me whenever :)
Anyway, enough ranting and on to the chapter! Enjoy!
I trip over the steaming entrails of the motionless horse in my haste to follow after Vanessa. A crushing fear grips at my heart with a vice-like grip. Grunting with effort, I stagger to my feet and into an urgent sprint. The muffled murmuring of shocked onlookers barely reaches my thoughts. My mind, my vision, narrows to only Vanessa.
"Vanessa!" I scream as her black dress vanishes behind an alley wall. I propell my way through the corner, reach for the trusty weapons at my waist and come to a stumbling halt at the sight that greets me. Sprawled out amongst a heap of rubbish, Vanessa stirs gingerly, favouring her right shoulder with a grimace.
Looming above Vanessa, the creature, as pale as ivory, body riddled with garish scars, snaps its otherworldly gaze in my direction. Hissing, it advances with terrifying purpose. I grip at my pistols with whitening knuckles, tense my jaw. I ready myself for the fight about to ensue, forcing myself to assess the situation. Vanessa is in obvious need of medical attention. Apart from her shoulder, her porcelain face is painted in red slashes, curving over her cheekbones. A trail of crimson traces a path down her forehead, over her eyebrow, into her eye... I feel my being tense with the need to rush forward, hold her close and whisk her off to safety.
But, this thing ain't goin' anywhere, I think. This situation can only be resolved one way - kill the creature, then get Vanessa to safety. With subtle stealth, I slowly pull my pistols from their holsters. The creature's gaze snaps to my hands, comes to a halt. And then, like the first ray of sunshine after a terrifyingly dark night, I see it. Clutched in the creature's clawed fist, a lock of Vanessa's hair dangles innocently. It notices my revelation and smiles with sinister intent.
"What the hell do you want?" I sneer. Vanessa catches my gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and something else, something desperate. A frown creases my sweaty brow as I take a step forward. I lift my guns into the air in front of me and notice the slight tremble in my hands.
"What seems to be the problem, kind Sir?" the creature mocks, head tilting to the side. Growling with frustration, I take another step forward.
"Afraid, are we?"
I shove the guns further forward. "Shut the fuck up! Why don't you just scurry along, before I blow your head off?"
The creature cackles, body relaxing in the slightest bit. I don't let this minute detail go unnoticed as I narrow my eyes, focusing. "Oh, but what would the fun be in that? No, I think I shall have some fun with you, instead."
Even before I have the time to blink, the creature flashes forward with a snarl. Vanessa shouts a desperate warning, but it comes too late. It all happens so fast; the creature slams into me, sending me staggering back several feet, before I loose my footing and tumble to the hard, cold ground. My guns clatter down with me, skidding with a metalic scrape too far away from my reach. I scramble frantically to reach for the weapons, when a pale foot steps on my hand. The creature bends to straddle my chest, ivory hand snapping forward to clutch at my throat. Smirking, it lowers its head closer to mine.
"Fun, isn't it?" the creature mocks.
I growl, struggling under the creature's surprisingly powerful grip. "Get the hell off me!"
A flash of silver arcs through the air, into the creature's bald head. Crying out in pain, it crashes to thr ground. Vanessa, breathing hard, stands on shaky legs, iron pipe clutched tightly in her quivering grip. Quickly, I scramble to my feet, grab for my guns. The pipe clatters to the ground with a loud, metallic ring. In the time it took me to reach for my pistols, the creature had retaliated with a bone cracking slam to Vanessa's already injured shoulder. Her cry of pain cuts straight through me.
What the fuck is wrong, Chandler? Protect her! I scold myself, rushing forward with a grunt. The creaure spins to face me with a wild look, stance widening. I'm so close, so close as I reach out and... grasp at thin air.
I spin around, searching frantically, but... it's just gone. Like it became nothing and everything all at once. Well... so much for leaving, I think.
***
During all my time spent in London, hunting down evil spirits that lurk in the dark, fighting off demonic possessions, I have never witnessed Sir Malcolm as livid as he is now. Even before I rushed Vanessa into the safety of the mansion I had sensed him, his lingering anger interwoven with mild distaste, but… I had never expected to see this. I watch now, hidden in the shadows of the entrance hall, as he marches forward, reaching out desperately to Vanessa. His gaze travels over her form, much like mine did several times over, as he gently takes her trembling hand. Vanessa reassures him of her safety and falsely promises that she is alright. I notice some time later, that Sembene is oddly absent. Just then, Sir Malcolm's steely eyes harden as he lifts his head to look at me. No, not look, I think.
Glare.
I feel his anger boil to the surface, overflowing, spilling… uncontrolled. Before I realise what has happened, Sir Malcolm lurches forward, grabs two fistfulls of my overcoat and slams me back into the nearest wall. I grit my teeth, meeting his enraged glare head-on.
"Why are you here? What happened?" Sir Malcolm snaps, pushing me impossibly further into the wall. I grunt, surprised at the old man's strength.
"How 'bout we speak like civilised men, instead?" I retort, watching as Sir Malcolm clenches his jaw, scowl deepening. Finally, after much glaring, he releases me with a growl, steps back.
"Once Sembene has returned, we will discuss this." Sir Malcolm's gaze softens as he turns to look at Vanessa. "As for now, we need to clean those wounds."
I step forward, readjust my coat and slip my hands into the pockets there. "Agreed," I say. Sir Malcolm nods stiffly before vacating the room with haste. I clear my throat as Vanessa turns to stare at me, delecate arms wrapped around her chest. Avoiding the emotions I find swirling in those pale blue depths, I swing my gaze around to the drawing room, noticing the dancing flames of a cozy fire. I gesture with a jerk of my head. "Come on, let's sit you down."
I feel her follow me into the drawing room, so close I swear I can feel the heat radiating off her in wave after relentless wave. I sense her fear, burrowed so deep, clutching at her being with unrelenting force. Somewhere, in the darkest part of my soul, that place where thoughts go and never return, a voice warns me of things yet to come. Things that are born from fresh, unadulterated fear.
Things that haunt.
As Vanessa gingerly sinks into the leathery cushions of the couch, I descend into a kneeling position by the hearth, reaching out for the black, iron poker resting innocently against the wall. I stoke the fire, sparks pirouetting up… up. I become lost in the patterns they dance until Vanessa speaks almost timidly.
"I feel I must apologise," she says. I look up, frowning.
"What for, Miss Ives?"
"For Sir Malcolm's rather poor behaviour," she elaborates, thin fingers fidgeting with the seam at her shoulder. I shrug, sending her a wry smile.
"Oh, nothin' poor about that. In some way, I understand his anger implicitly."
Vanessa smiles, makes to lean forward and grimaces. I rise from my perch at the hearth, brow creasing. "We need to get that shoulder examined."
Vanessa sends me a dismissive wave. "I'm fine."
Sighing, I lower myself beside her. Never have I come across a woman as stubborn as Vanessa Ives, I think to myself. And perhaps with a little more admiration than intended, I realise. With a massive effort, I rein my feelings in.
And just in time.
Sir Malcolm enters the drawing room, a medicine cabinet cradled in his arms. A frown creases at his brow. "I'm afraid there isn't much, but it will have to do until the morning."
He places the box on the table before us, rummaging around in search of something. I sense his frantic tension and reach out. "Here, let me," I offer. Sir Malcolm comes to a slow stop, reluctant to hand the proverbial reins over. "Don't fret, I've seen much worse during my time in the war."
Sir Malcolm takes a seat with a heavy sigh, hand raking over his face. I grab hold of some cloth, wrap it around my pointer finger and then proceed to dip the end into some disinfectant. With my free hand, I touch two fingers to Vanessa's jaw, turning her head to the side. I dab lightly at the cut tracing a jagged path down her cheek, grimacing when she hisses in obvious pain.
"The Indians were merciless in their killing. They slaughtered any man, child or woman that crossed their paths, all without blinking. That was their ultimate weapon - killing without hesitation," I say, wiping at a trail of blood down Vanessa's temple. "We were like livestock to them."
My thoughts travel down that deep, dark road into pain and nothingness. All those people killed. All my brothers in arms, slaughtered, butchered.
All the blood on my own hands. Though they were very much our enemy, it didn't make them any less human. More so, in fact, when they chose to accept me as their own. Only to coldly betray them in a desperate effort to cease the war.
Vanessa's pale hand shoots out to grasp at my wrist when I dab too hard, her delicate eyebrows pulling into a frown. I murmur an apology, reining my thoughts back into their holding-cell locked deep within the confines of my mind. Vanessa holds my gaze with a gentle force, as if somehow sensing my train of guilt-ridden memories. Perhaps I should be thanking her, instead.
I clear my throat, casting aside the alcohol-drenched cloth. "Whatever attacked us tonight… well. It's like nothin' I've seen before."
Sir Malcolm leans forward. "Like the other creatures we faced before?" he asks. I shake my head, turning to watch the writhing fire in the hearth.
"No. This was… vastly different. It - she, spoke."
"She?"
"It taunted me, completely and utterly un-afraid," I elaborate. The mere memory of what that creature was capable of, sends cold fingers tracing down my spine. Beside me, Vanessa bristles. I feel a wave of tension engulf her form and watch as she rises from her seat. She strides towards the fire, arms clutching at herself. And suddenly, a feeling of dread washes over me. Slowly, I stand. Patiently, I wait.
"Vanessa?" I take a tentative step towards her. "You knew what that thing was, didn't you?"
Sir Malcolm comes to a stand, sends me a confused glance. The crackling fire slices through the thick silence suspended over the room.
"Vanessa," I urge.
"I don't know!" she snaps, spinning around to face us with wild eyes. "I don't know…"
Sir Malcolm and I share a look. I lift my hands, palms facing forward. "It's alright, everything is alright," I say. That voice probes at my conscience once again, more urgent now. This is nothing like Vanessa. Nowhere near the fiercely determined woman he had met several months ago. This… this was something akin to madness.
Vanessa lowers her gaze. "Please excuse me, gentlemen, I think I should retire for the evening."
Before either of us are able to reply, Vanessa rushes from the drawing room. I sigh, raking a hand over my face. Sir Malcolm steps forward, bending to re-pack the medical cabinet.
"Once Sembene returns, I shall call for Dr Frankenstein," Sir Malcolm says. I nod, not fully realising that he can't see my form of approval.
"And perhaps, you will explain in more detail the events that transpired," Sir Malcolm continues, rising to pin me with a fierce stare. I don't meet his gaze, too focused on the drawing room's entrance where Vanessa barged through moments before.
"Of course I will."
Sir Malcolm gives a stiff nod, gathers the medicine cabinet and makes to leave. And then, I snap out of my Vanessa-induced haze, determined to make my feelings known. Consequences or no, I cannot afford to leave. Not now, not ever. Vanessa needs my help, whether she denies it or accepts it.
Someone has to show her the way down that dark and troubling path that I have walked far too often.
"Sir Malcolm," I call, stopping the old man in his tracks. "I would like to make at least one thing clear, before the night is done."
Sir Malcolm turns around, his interest peaked. He arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak.
"I'm not leaving her side. We don't know what we're up against, or whether that thing will return, but… I'm not leaving. Not until I know she's safe."
I level Sir Malcolm with a hard glare, arms resting motionless at my sides. Sir Malcolm inhales deeply, contemplating my thoughts, however straightforward and brash they might be, I realise. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of tense-filled silence, Sir Malcolm speaks.
"Very well. You may take the guest room. And Mr Chandler, let me make something clear. Vanessa means everything to me. And, what is life without meaning?"
With that, Sir Malcolm leaves, careless to wait for my reply. Living under the same roof as this man might just be the end of me, I think. When had our ever-present animosity turned into something so full of distrust? I snort; the animosity I can deal with. However, as for the trust issues?
I bow my head with a deep sigh. At least we have one common goal - Vanessa Ives's safety. Now, that I most definitely can live with, I think in an attempt to reassure myself. Perhaps, by sharing this goal, we can attempt to amend this relationship, shape it into something better.
If he is willing.
*** Alright, there ya go! Please let me know what you think and also, I do apologise for any formatting weirdness - I'm posting this off a program called JotterPad.
Before I leave you guys, I do want to inform you of the fact that I am currently writing the next chapter and I truly do promise for it to be up a lot sooner than this one.
Cheerio! :D
