chapter 4
"No!" She gasped out, pulling Toby close to her and away from the demon barber's advancing blade. She stood up, scooping him into her thin arms. Sweeney glared at her.
"Give me the boy." He growled. She shook her head fervently, maroon curls bouncing around her face.
"Toby, tell Mista Todd you wont tell anyone what you know." She urged as her startled adoptive son found his feet. "'E don't 'ave t' die, 'e don't!"
"I wont tell a soul Mr. T." He was crying too and stood infront of Nellie, arms spread wide in a childish attempt to block the man. "Please don't hurt mum, I wont tell anyone!"
"It's not her I'm after." He growled, lunging forward. Mrs. Lovett ran forward as well, tackling the barber to the ground. It was hard to tell who was more surprised by her actions, Lovett or Sweeney. She cried out as she fell upon him, face tightening in an expression of pain. Sweeney frowned at that, felling the need to ask what was wrong but ignoring it. He hadn't done anything to her "Don't kill 'im Mista T," She gasped out in a strangled voice. "'e wont tell I know 'e won't!"
He pushed her off him and scrambled for the boy who had been edging closer, catching his foot. Sweeney swung his arm forward to deliver the killing blow. Only than did he realize his friend wasn't in his hand. Where was it? It had been in his hand when the damnable woman tackled him, he must have dropped it or- he turned to look at the floor and spotted it not on the ground but in Lovett's hand. She was on her feet but leaning against the bake house wall for support. One hand feebly holding his blood coated razor out in front of her, the other clutching tightly at her left side, which was quickly being covered by a crimson stain.
Oh, gods! He must have stabbed her when they flew at each other. "Mrs. Lovett, Give me my razor so I can finish off the lad and get you some assistance." His voice had taken on a softer tone. Upon standing he let go of the boys foot, the young lad foolishly running to his "mother".
She shook her head no, whimpering with pain as she took a step away from him. "Toby's a good boy." She said in a strained voice. "'E can keep a secret."
Sweeney took another step towards her. "He can't Mrs. Lovett. We can not trust 'im. I should 'ave killed him the day I polished off that damn Italian."
Sweeney walked towards them with more confidence now. The woman had stopped moving away and was instead leaning against the wall, desperately trying not to fall to the ground.
Toby, seeing his mums weakened state, grabbed the razor from her shaking hand and was brandishing it in front of him as he tried to back himself and Mrs. Lovett to the door. Her blood was flowing quickly and half her skirt was already a brilliant shade of red. Sweeney had to act fast.
He grabbed a butcher's knife from the large chopping block in the center of the room. It felt clumsy and awkward in his hand compared to what he was used to but it would have to do "Toby." He said in a low, growling voice. "Your mum only has so much blood, you really think this is wise?"
"You don't care!" The boy spat out. "You don't give a rats arse 'bout mum!"
Sweeney stared at him, surprised at the rage that filled him at that comment. That wasn't true. He wanted to scream this at the boy but stopped him self with more than a little confusion as he realized he did at lest care enough not to want her dead. That fact in its self shocked him. He wanted every one dead, why he shouldn't feel the same way about the bothersome baker he didn't know. One thing her did know though is he had to do something and soon.
.
.
.
.
.
There was a knock at the door to the pie shop, curious Antony stood, looking out and seeing, much to his horror, Beatle Bamford.
"Hide." He hissed to his blond haired companion and she instantly obeyed, slipping under the heavy wood table at which shed been sitting only moment ago.
"Hello sir." Antony greeted awkwardly, opening the door partially.
"Sailor, didn't think I'd see the likes of you again." He said with a wicked grin. Antony frowned. Upon their last meeting this man had beaten him and threatened to kill him. "What are you doing here? Lovett have a pretty little lady for you to woo or are you after the pie maker her self?"
Antony ignored the mans insults. "Why are you here?" He asked angrily.
"Well there's been complaints filed against Mrs. Lovett. I'm told a smell most foul rises from her chimney at this time of night." The man tried to push the door open wide enough to enter but Antony held his ground. "I'm here to 'ave a look at her bake house."
"Well if that was the case wouldn't you smell it now?" Antony challenged. He couldn't let the man get in and risk his Joanna being seen.
"Never the less I ought t' take a look." He attempted again to push past the young man.
"I can't let you in sir. The missus is paying me to mind the shop and I'm not to let any one in under any circumstances." The lie surprised him at the ease it sprung from his lips.
"I have to do my duties." The greasy man said more sternly.
"Well your duties don't include breaking and entering do they? 'Cause that's what it'll be if you don't have a search permit."
"Where is she at this time of night?" The beadle challenged.
"She .." He paused for a moment "She stepped out with a gentleman caller."
The beadle glared at him and Antony decided to try a different approach.
"Oh don't tell me some one a upstanding as you has nothing better to do at night than make house calls." Antony said. "I mean, there has to be some party you where invited to or something of the sort you could do. Than you could simple return when Mrs. Lovett is home."
"As mater of fact I do." Beatle said, puffing out his chest. "Much better."
"Well why don't you go see to that Mr. Bamford." He said, hoping he would leave. "I'm sure there's some one as well-liked as you has some lovely lady friend or two of whom he could attended to."
"Mweel. That is true."
Antony could see the Beddle wavering and threw in. "Tell you wot, I'll even tell 'er you stoped by and she can 'ave a nice double sized pie made up for you, you know , so you can sample the wares of the place."
"That sounds acceptable, the night is getting rather on in time, why don't you tell Mrs. Lovett I'll be back at dawns breaking to see to her bake house." He said with a sense of finality
"Of course, I'll deliver the message as soon as she returns from her outing." Seeming satisfied with this the rat like, conceded man turned away and walked out into the night.
.
.
.
.
.
Mrs. Lovett's eyes fluttered sleepily. Her head was spinning and the room seemed to be losing its color. Her foot caught the hem of her floor length dress and she toppled over, hitting the hard stone with a weak cry.
That was exactly the opening Sweeny need. With no chance of hitting the baker he threw the knife he had held at the boy. It spun in the air and the handle hit first, bouncing harmlessly off his chest. It did however provide a well-appreciated distraction, as Sweeney was able to tackle the boy and snatch his razor from his hand.
He had pined him in front of Nellie as she sat up and she cried, knowing there was nothing that could be done to stop him. Sweeney looked at her, hesitating only the slightest bit. She would hate him for this, he knew that. It had to be done though. "You where a good boy Toby." He said softly, patting the boy on top of his head. He dragged his sharp blade across the child's neck, than sat back on his haunches, feeling suddenly depressed as he watched the life pour from the young assistant.
Mrs Lovett moaned, futilely pulling the boy closer to her now that Sweeney had let go of him. She kissed his forehead one final time and he reached up, hand shaking and touched his mum's cheek. She grabbed the small hand in her own; the room was spinning again and the lights seemed to be dimming. She leaned forward slowly, eyes closing as she lay her head atop the small body in her arms.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Authors note. TT poor Toby. I am not a Toby hater, just to let you know, I adore the little boy but it had to be done. Oh and for the sake of my story Antonys not a complete idiot here