"My God, she was there?" The young reporter's eyes widened. I had decided to wait at Northwood until the proper help and publicity had arrived. It would be odd to find the remains of the asylum, with no sign of its previous inhabitants or any of the girls. The media would likely assume that the girls had set it on fire. The demon and I stayed to relay our own interpretation.
"Yes," the demon nodded. He'd been my voice so far and I didn't really mind. I clutched on to his white overcoat, trembling slightly, and timidly avoided the reporter's eyes. If the demon could successfully act his part, then I could as well.
"I had come to escort Miss Grimm home when I found Northwood ablaze," the demon continued smoothly. "The doctors were doing their best to get the girls out. As far as I know there were no patient casualties. Most unfortunately, however, many of the doctors did not make it out."
"How incredibly awful," the reporter was scribbling furiously on a small notepad. He fell silent for a moment, his eyes catching mine. His were the color of muddy water; they had the illusion of containing blue, but when you looked at them, all you saw was sadness.
"This has been Miss Grimm's second brush with death, has it not?" the reporter asked, his voice timid. "It's almost been eight years, hasn't it? Since Countess Grimm died, I mean."
"Yes, come this fall," I mumbled. I didn't have to feign shock in this instance. It was a surprise if anyone at all remembered my mother's death. It was hardly investigated, since Townnesend managed to cover' up the murder quite brilliantly.
"My condolences," he said, bowing his head. I shifted uncomfortably.
"If we're quite finished here, I really must escort Miss Grimm home," the demon spoke up, sensing my uneasiness. He turned and began to lead me away.
"Wait," the reporter called out, stopping us. "The least I can do is let you ride back to London in my coach. I'll be riding with you of course, but-"
"That's quite kind of you," I said, before the demon could refuse. "You have my gratitude, Mister-?"
"Bartholomew, my lady," he said, bowing slightly. "Bartholomew Caine."
The demon and I followed behind the young reporter, a wordless conversation passing between the two of us. I could sense that the demon was clearly on edge around the boy, and he was slightly annoyed that I was so calm. Yet, Bartholomew's words about my mother gave me an odd sense of peace that I couldn't quite explain.
The carriage ride was short and silent. I wasn't uncomfortable in the silence for once; it was not complete silence after all. I had the comfort of other people, I could hear the gravel crunching under the turning wheels, the tired sighs of the horses, the driver's incessant coughing. The noise was wonderful. I stared out the window watching the familiar wooded scene of Northwood give way to the jungle of the city. It had been years since I'd set foot in London. My father would take me sometimes, on holidays or when he had a short business trip. The sheer chaos of it all was pleasant.
As the demon and I exited the carriage, we gave our thanks to Mr. Bartholomew Caine and began walking down a crowded street. As I passed shops, memories of a happier time flooded back into my mind.
I walked quickly into a shop that my mother had taken me to plenty of times when I was a child. As the demon closed the door behind us, a familiar face greeted me. I had remembered the owner of the shop to be a kindly old woman, and that she was. She looked exactly the same as she had when I was a child. When her eyes found my face, she smiled broadly.
"Miss Grimm?" she asked, taking my hands in her withered ones. I nodded, causing her smile to widen. "Oh, it has been years. I haven't seen you since you were a child, and now look at you! Are you visiting from Northwood?" she asked, clearly aware that I had been sent to that hell all those years ago.
"No, ma'am," I said, smiling girlishly. "I'm coming home. Doctor Faustus is here to watch over me," I said, glancing at the demon out of the corner of his eye. He flashed the old woman a charming smile, causing his golden eyes to shine. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and quickly looked back to the woman.
"Oh, isn't that wonderful?" she said, genuinely pleased. "Your father will be so happy to have his little angel back. You know he came here every year that you were gone and bought a dress for your birthday?" she said, squeezing my hands tenderly.
How I had forgotten how much I had missed my father! It was not likely I'd find a man on this Earth that I would love more than my father. It touched me that he celebrated my birthday, even when I was not there to celebrate it with him. My father only came to London on rare occasions as he preferred the country, but he came to get gifts for my birthday. Gifts for his daughter who was insane. Gifts for his daughter who was no longer the innocent girl he had known. Gifts for his daughter who had signed her soul away to a demon…
"I just came to pick a dress so that I might change out of this awful one," I said, looking down at my current dress. At one point, it used to be white. I hadn't realized how truly filthy it was until now. It was in tatters and hardly fit. I'd worn this dress for almost as long as I could recall. "I wouldn't want to return to my father looking like this," I said, a tinkling, girlish laugh spilling out of my throat.
The old woman smiled, her eyes crinkling kindly.
"I have just the thing," she said, walking to the back of the shop. She returned moments later with a deep green gown trimmed with black lace. "Here you are," she said, offering the dress to me. "You may try it on of you like." She motioned to the back of the shop. I excused myself, eager to slip out of the horrid and filthy clothes I was wearing. I didn't quite feel like I should be in such an elegant dress. I felt increasingly filthier as I slipped it on. I couldn't honestly remember the last time I'd been allowed to bathe or brush through my tangled hair. I didn't have time to worry about such things now, so I brushed off the thought.
"I'm afraid I haven't brought any money," I said apologetically to the woman as I walked to the front of the shop. She grinned largely at me.
"Don't you worry about a thing, angel," she said, admiring the way the gown fit. "Think of it as an early birthday present."
I bid the kindly lady goodbye and proceeded to travel down the crowded London streets, the demon close at my heels. I was ready to be presented to my father, but the demon wasn't just yet. There was still a great inhuman-ness about him that was sure to be detected by my father: his eyes. I was sure that was what it was. It was difficult for me to describe, as there were no words that the English language contained (as far as I knew) to adequately express the emotion contained within the demon's eyes. To say they were beautiful would be an incredible understatement.
I had an idea. I could mask his eyes, maybe make them appear more human somehow. I felt uncomfortable disclosing my thoughts the demon. The last thing I desired was for this demon to believe that I had a fixation with him, though I suppose I did. I didn't want him to view me as a child. I figured it would be best to address my concerns on my own.
"Doctor Faustus?" I said sweetly, turning to face the demon.
"Yes, my lady?" he responded, his golden eyes glinting and his face entirely passive.
"I have just one more matter of business to attend to," I said stopping in front of a shop I had no intention of visiting. "In order to hasten my return to my home, may I request that you send for a coach?"
"As you wish, my lady," he said, curtly. It was arranged that we would meet in front of the shop in five minutes' time. As the demon's form disappeared into the crowd, I turned the corner and walked into a musty shop I'd only been in on one occasion.
"Excuse me," I said as I entered. The balding man sitting at the front desk looked up as I entered. He smiled in quite a businesslike manner.
"How might I help you, miss?" the man asked.
"My father, Count Grimm, sent me to pick up new glasses," I lied. "Though he desires different frames. Might I see your selection?" I asked sweetly. The man bobbed his head up and down.
"Of course, of course," he said, "Anything for the Count." The man led me to a wall lined with frames of glasses. "These are the newest most popular styles. I trust you know what style your father is looking for?" he asked. I nodded, but did not elaborate. Most of the frames were circular and thick. If I presented a pair to the demon, it wouldn't fit his appearance. He needed something… elegant. Sophisticated. Yet, it needed to be odd. My eyes scanned the rows and rows of frames in front of my face. I moved down the wall, taking my time. I feared nothing would click.
Then, I saw them.
They were rectangular. The frame was thin silver, so thin it was almost nonexistent. They were odd, sticking out noticeably from the other frames, yet they seemed very fitting for a demon. I picked them up and handed them to the man. He studied them, a small smile spreading across his face.
"An interesting choice, miss," he said. "I find you'll be completely satisfied with these." He walked back to the front desk and pulled out a thin ebony box, placing the silver frames inside.
"Would you be so kind as to charge these to my father's account?" I asked. "I'm afraid he's caught in the middle of a meeting at the moment."
"Of course, miss," the man nodded. I thanked him and rushed quickly back to the shop where I'd promised to meet the demon. He was waiting for me, of course, a coach prepared. He opened the door and offered me his hand.
"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked. I took his hand and stepped into the coach. I settled into the seat nearest the window, as I planned to observe as much scenery as possible. I felt I had been deprived of nature's beauty for far too long. It was a wonder indeed that I did not develop insanity while I was staying at Northwood.
The demon sat opposite me, silent until the coach began to move. I glanced over at him; his lips were curved into a smile. I dared to glance into his eyes for a moment, though I was unable to hold my gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce my soul and know my every desire. It was an incredibly uncomfortable sensation, yet absolutely wonderful. He truly possessed the eyes of a demon.
"I have something for you," I said, looking down at my deep green skirts. I handed him the ebony box. His pale, slender fingers contrasted brilliantly against the dark wood, sliding pleasantly across my own fingers. When I had relinquished hold on the box, I dared to look up at his face again. I was met with a questioning gaze. The box was open. "Most doctors have them," I reasoned. "Besides, you needed something to make your eyes seem more… human," I mumbled the last part of the sentence.
"You're too kind, my lady," he smiled, sliding the thin frames onto his face. He delicately pushed them up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. His eyes certainly gained more humanity, though their beauty did not disappear.
"Think nothing of it," I said, shrugging. "If you do not like them, you do not have to wear them. Unless we are in the presence of my father, of course."
"Of course I appreciate any gift given to me by my lady," the demon said, humbly. I wasn't quite sure if I believed he was being sincere or not. I ignored it for the moment.
"What is to happen to you upon your return home?" the demon asked, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
"I'm sure I will stay in the guest house with you until my room is prepared," I said. The thought of living with a demon made me blush, for reasons I was unsure of at the moment. The thought was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. "Then I shall focus on avenging my mother's death."
"By killing your governess?" the demon asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked at him, thinking over my answer for a moment. Until this moment, that had been my plan. Though, now, I wasn't sure that death was going to be enough to punish the witch.
"No," I said slowly. "She needs to suffer. She needs to feel a semblance of the pain that I've felt. Death is too easy of an escape for a murderer like her." I sighed and looked out the window. I was secretly pleased with my response; it was as though I could feel the waves of satisfaction rolling off the demon.
"You are an intriguing creature, my lady," he whispered softly. I turned back to him and smiled. This time, I held his gaze, drinking in his mortal form.
He was beautiful, my demon. Now that I had time to observe his appearance, the realization hit me like a brick. His clothing was well fitted and not a button was out of place. He held his chin high, as he was sure of himself. His black hair was perhaps the only unruly thing about him; it stuck out at random angles that were quite endearing. It was tied back into a pony tail that fell about halfway down his back.
And his eyes. His eyes were what captivated me the most. I found it queer that they were able to change from such a menacing scarlet to such a subdued gold color. Without his glasses, his eyes were mesmerizing. It seemed as though the demon had the ability to swallow your soul with a glance. The glasses I had given him masked some of the mystery in those golden depths. Those simple frames hid so much of the depth that his eyes contained, yet seemed to reveal even more. The glasses allowed me to feel at ease around him, made me feel like I was in the company of a fellow mortal. Or, at least, they made it easier to forget he was a demon. I was grateful for that; this demon was the only person I felt I could call my friend. Yet, friend didn't seem to be quite an appropriate word. The relationship we had was not what I would call a friendship. I was simply being a masochist for feeling any sort of bond to the creature at all, though I could not restrain myself.
"Though they are certainly limited, I know our time together will be quite… entertaining," the demon smiled. He looked at me over the top of his glasses. Those wonderful eyes sending chills down my spine.
The captivating eyes of a demon.