Your Godless Brother in Love
Cassian's steps echo after mine on the cobblestone. There's a distorted familiarity in them -steps heavier than they should be- a constant reminder of the changes I now must find a way to live with. I still order Cassian about as if he were my assistant, a habit too deeply ingrained, whenever we go out on these trips.
London streets always feel the same with their fog, regardless of the passing of days, seasons and tragedies. The tower is still on the horizon, though I am told that London authorities will not allow any to approach.
So I see no reason to bother; for the first time, I am on the outside of that world. There is no way to know where the remains of Delilah -nor even my own father's remains- are as of now. I'm certain Moon saw to him, with those Romani prayers. I quicken my pace as a light rain begins.
"Cassian! Hurry along, the smith is this way."
There I go again, barking out orders. Though I suppose it cannot be so bad, seeing that Cassian still persists in accompanying me to buy the wares I need. Obtaining the materials to construct a transfusion device for Riff is a small challenge. Particularly when people decide to be nosy about why I would need so much glass, copper and steel; or about who I am. As I've said it is only a small challenge.
I know how to adopt a new persona and spin an alibi, well enough that half my purchases can be bought with strangers' charge accounts. The remaining purchases are made at Cain's expense, fair given that I am doing this work for him.
I stop walking when I see the doors of the steel shop before me, turning back to look at Cassian.
"Doctor?"
"Cassian... I shall attempt to make this purchase on one of the organization's accounts: Saint Lucia Research-" My shoulder is grabbed as Cassian shoves us both into a stone alcove.
"You can't honestly be serious about that, Jizabel." My back's pressed against the cold wall while Cassian speaks with his voice low by my ear. With luck, no one will intrude and believe that we are being indecent.
"Why not, Cassian? It is what I have always done before." There's a deep groan from his throat and a muttered son of a bitch.
"Don't act this dense when I know you're not, Doctor. You've been making charges to accounts we don't own, as if Scotland Yard won't notice. And now you want to charge those people as if they won't notice. Why are you still courting danger like this now?" Now that we finally got away goes unspoken, but I know it is there from the anger and frustration in Cassian's voice. When I turn to look into Cassian's eyes- now a pale blue that I am still trying to lose my fear of- there is only a very tired frustration, no anger at all. By some strange impulse, I press my cheek against him. Cassian's skin, his body imparts some protection from the bite of the winter winds as I speak.
"I am sorry, Cassian, but it is such a habit. All I know, truly..." I feel a gloved hand hold my chin and tilt it up. That hand feels warm, too.
"Stop it, Jizabel. Every time I ask something, that line is all you say. It's a cheap excuse... I'm not saying it isn't true, but it's not enough for me to help you. You need to give me something more to work with. Meet me half-way, you owe me that much at least. I'll stand by you, Jizabel, but you can't just not even try." Cassian whispers the last part into the shell of my ear far too tenderly for it to be a threat. The unnecessary gentleness that he reserves for me has not gone unnoticed, but right now there are more pressing matters- like the bustling London that surrounds us. When his hand falls from my chin I speak, again.
"If I were to make these purchases all at once with the Earl's accounts, surely Delilah would notice. They are no doubt still watching Cain." Cassian cringes at my carelessness in saying Delilah aloud, but otherwise allows me to continue speaking: "I need these materials at once, and it is simple enough to use others' accounts for purchase."
"But why use Lucia? Don't you think they'll notice?" Cassian's eyes look heavy, like he's carrying enough worry for the both of us. That is not truly fair, is it? I almost reach out for him but stop.
"Lucia is the Hermit's account. He is a bit... out of sorts, and fails to keep track of his purchases. Besides, even if the old coot did notice, I don't think he would actually report me..." He sighs, I feel breath cause my hair to ripple.
"You've picked the worst time to start trusting anyone from back there, Jizabel. But, I can't change your mind, can I? So, how do we do this? Who are we this time?"
I shift to pull out the replacement spectacles Cain bought me, rectangular things completely unlike my old pair.
"I am Doctor Miles Redford, understudy at Saint Lucia Research Hospital. And you, sir?" Cassian steps back, tipping his hat.
"Well, me? I guess I'm just John Blair, I simply mind the supplies for you, Doctor."
"Shall we go in now then, my friend?"
Godless brother in love,
You might as well lay down that rose
And fold the flag
This is all too much like old times, back at Delilah. Times that I don't ever want to go back to. Jizabel, or Miles or however I'm supposed to call him, goes sauntering over to the man who runs this iron works. He does a flawless impersonation of a shy and fresh-faced young doctor placing his order, explaining the schematics of a device he would like. All the identities he fakes are the same type:Blanchette , Hathaway, Redford and all the others I forgot to name. It's almost sweet, watching him smile and gesture as he gives over his plans for the steel. It would be sweet, if it weren't for the danger of being caught by Delilah or Scotland Yard.
And if it weren't for the fact that, from the doorway I'm watching at, every scene Jizabel acts out looks like it could have come straight out of the life he should have been allowed to have. He jauntily points to me while speaking with the shop keeper, I smile and nod. After that we're done.
Jizabel joins me outside the shop, grinning like the cat that got the cream when he opens his mouth.
"Our purchase will be delivered to a warehouse near here. The Earl can send his people to retrieve it in a few days' time. After this, we are done with procuring materials and may proceed to... later phases of the procedure." I speak up, feeling much less satisfied and excited than he is.
"Jizabel, kid, you've got to find less dangerous pastimes." He chuckles a bit, turning to face me.
"Cassian, you know this can't be helped. It is our best option, correct?" A man saying those words shouldn't grin like Jizabel does now.
"Yeah, sorry about that, Doctor." I had really hoped that the Doctor's blatant lack of self-regard would end once his ties with Alexis were gone, but it seems I don't get that sort of luck. Still, maybe he's better; maybe he'll actually start trying to get better, so long as its his best option.
"Cassian? I need to become familiar with the docks near Thames and the working quarters of London. Would you be kind enough to show them to me?" Jizabel glances to me and bites his lip, more used to giving orders than making requests I think. It's good to see he's trying to learn.
"Sure, Jizabel. When?"
"Immediately, I thought that was obvious." Like that, he's back to being the Doctor.
Getting about working class London is easy right now, with the crowds being unusually polite. A man tips his hat, and I'm pretty sure that gesture was meant for Jizabel. Even if I'm the one in Lord Gladstone's body and he's a bastard son, Jizabel always seems the refined one between us.
Fine by me, I wouldn't want to seem like a lord anyways. Being seen as the boy's assistant by the people who pass us by is perfectly alright with me. Almost like things should be. I stop in my tracks behind Jizabel as he comes to a halt in front of a building. He's been doing that this whole time, scrutinizing and stareing down shops, schools and churches. I try not to wonder why the Doctor's doing all of this, I don't want to think of him as something sinister. This time it's a bakery that Jizabel's stopped in front of.
"Would you like to get something to eat, Cassian?" I nod yes and we go over to the bakery. I get the door for Jizabel- he is the noble man here- but the Doctor takes too long staring at the nearby ally, leaving me holding the door for no one and looking rather silly at it.
The inside of the bakery is filled with loaves of bread and a simple warmth.
It's old walls are nearly free of decoration, unless you think of the pastries and their price signs as ornaments. I greet the man behind the counter with a curt nod, like any other customer would. Everything that's set out on the counters is common fare: meat pies, loaves of bread and sweet rolls. There are some illustrations of cakes, with it written bellow that they make those on request. I'm considering ordering for the Doctor and myself, when the door cracks open and Jizabel walks in to stand besides me.
He doesn't nod, or bother to greet anyone but me in the least. That must make him seem even more like some fortunate son, as the clerk who had ignored me now rushes over to ask Jizabel what he'll have. Jizabel asks for a rather modest sweet roll with water before turning to me:
"Cassian, what will you have?" I turn away from the baked goods to regard him.
"I'll just take the same as you, Doctor." His mouth goes to a small line before he speaks again.
"You were staring at the meat pies. Please don't give up something you'd enjoy just because of me. It is... too much."
"Whatever you say, Jizabel. A pie, then."
He speaks up again as we eat while sitting at a canal's edge. Jizabel's used the lion's share of his meal to feed pigeons, rats and Thames' fish.
"Cassian... Every now and again, I think of father, and of what you said and of him... and what you did. You do not have to respond to this; actually, please don't say a thing. Just... know this, please."
I nod; he smiles as a pudgy bird waddles over to eat a raisin at his side. Any confession Jizabel gives me is treasure and gold, seeing how it took my dying to save him just to get him to give the first.
She has money and that broken freedom,
All her kids run down the road
With no memories at all
Simple is good, always.
Choosing to do this lets me make a chaotic process simpler, easier to keep track of. The transfusion machine, once delivered and assembled, will make performing Riff's procedures a quick matter. I fidget with the stitches of my borrowed overcoat on the way back to Cain's manor, quite deaf to the world around me. Delilah's transfusion machines gave the possibility to work solely with blood, increasing the population of acceptable donors. That advantage makes it possible to kill in a more unpredictable manner, very useful for anyone wishing to avoid detection. Besides that, a blood transfusion is less time consuming and risky than full organ transplants. Like I said, simpler.
I will need to argue these points convincingly if I am to get Cain to construct such a device. He ought to know the house better than I, and have some hidden location where it could be kept without fear of a servant or his family stumbling upon a mass of steel and blood. A hand grabs my wrist, and I stop walking. It is Cassian, probably. After all, who else would do such?
"Doctor, the manor is right there."
I nod dumbly as I go through the heavy iron gate. Cassian and I walk in through the front door without bothering to knock; after all, this is also our house?
There are voices in the library that go silent as we pass through the halls. One belongs to Cain, and the other is not completely unfamiliar. I swing open the library door, my current ennui getting the best of me. When that door opens I am faced with my brother and the taller brunet man that is his guest. Cain is the first to break the silence, as Cassian stands guard behind me.
"I'll speak to you later then, Crehador."
Crehador, now I see where I knew that voice from: Dominic Crehador, the medium my father "recruited" into the rank of the Magician for the ceremony. That man, Crehador my recognize me as well from the suspicion that fills his face when he sees mine. It is partially out of humor, and another part to see the hurt in his face at being reminded of the cage he's in, that I speak the following with a bow:
"Glory unto thee, Magician."
I greet him as one card to another, and he storms out in a mess of thundering footsteps with his cape thrashing behind him. Crehador pauses by me, and takes the time to spit in my direction, before proceeding in his furious march out the front door.
The whole time Cain scowls at me, while Cassian switches between glaring at Crehador and me. They both stand there with the unspoken question of why do that, Jizabel written very clearly on their faces. I give my silent answer in the form of shrugging before I go up the stairs to my room. Again, there is not much to do there at my too empty desk.
The knock at my door pulls me out of the world of papers and notes and schematics that I had been wandering through, trying to recreate from memory. I mutter enter automatically, a habit still left over from having Cassian as an assistant at my labs. A habit that started just so I could save face when he'd barge in regardless of what I said.
The door opens and closes and I look up to see Cassian standing by my desk with a brown paper bag and a pair of apples.
"You're a very difficult man. You know that, Jizabel?"
Cassian puts the bag and one apple down on my desk, while he tosses the other apple between his hands like some toy ball. Cassian always said something like this back at Delilah, either after our missions or just because.
"I know I am... I'm sorry for the trouble." And I've never replied like that before, but this time it just felt natural- like if it was, as they say, the right thing to do.
Cassian's warm laughter breaks up what threatened to become a somber mood.
"If you're actually saying sorry over it, that's a major step forward, kid." I laugh, sigh and rest my head on my desk. I shut my eyes and just listen to that voice, with it's deeper pitch and greater resonance than back at Delilah. Now when Cassian speaks, he genuinely seems adult in something other than the bitter way he used to view the world.
"So I am still the child, Cassian? Aren't you going to scold me? Do you not want to interrogate me over why I've acted as I have, bothersome as it is?"
Cassian stops playing with that green apple and finally takes a bite out of it.
"If I scold you a millionth time, it still won't sink in. You're stubborn like that. And if I interrogate you over why you act like you do... Well, you'll tell me when you're ready, won't you Jizabel?"
I perk my head up to watch, feeling the same awe I do whenever I realize that someone has such honest belief in some good in me. I myself am now trying to believe.
"Be careful about having such faith in me, because-
what if in the end I can't even meet you half way, and then all your faith just leaves you empty handed?"
There is no easy way to tell someone that you may or may not need you should consider having a life beyond me, for your own sake. Cassian just nudges the second apple towards me.
"It's really alright, Jizabel. Even then I'd still choose to be standing right here, waiting for you- if waiting is all I can do. Now, why don't you go ahead and eat?
Oh, and by the way that bag has some trinkets for you. Your little sister insists that they're your Christmas presents, so don't open it for another week or two."
My curiosity's piqued by that drab paper bag, now that I know Cassian got me something.
I ignore everything around me save for that unassuming bag. I even ignore it when Cassian ruffles his hand through my hair. It is all I can do to keep my hands still, as I wait for him to leave so that I may pour out the bag's contents.
Trinkets, like he said: yukata and netsuke. They are humble gifts, but thoughtful ones. Or at least ones that show I was considered: the yukata has print of birds in forests, and none of the netsuke are made out of bone. There seems to be no other hidden message in the selection of trinkets, and no motive beyond a simple act of kindness. They are completely innocent gifts. Not a fur coat, no steak dinner, not the bodies of my mother and sisters. They are just innocent gifts, not meant to me pull into some mental game. I think of how it has been more than a decade since life could seem this simple, and my thoughts sting.
You can hear them on the hilltop laughing,
Cursing every bird in the air,
Telling her what fun they're having, driving eyes closed
"I've spent well over a decade working with technology a century ahead of what you know, Cain. Just that this does not seem simple to you does not mean that it is not, indeed, simple. Now just step out the door, we must leave while it's still morning if we want to be done with the assembly by nightfall." Cain raises a brow and sits on the chaise of his waiting room before responding to me.
"That is not what I've taken issue with, Doctor. The problem is that you want to build that... Blood machine in my home, while I'm trying to hide what we're doing." I straighten my coat's lapels and sit beside him.
"Well, Cain, the transfusion device does not need to be at this house, but simply on one of your properties. A property that is not trespassed on, where we could do Riff's procedures. And I will require some aid in the device's assembly." Cain shifts while eying the grandfather clock against the wall in contemplation.
"I see... Then we'll use the old home, the one I had to burn down. The cellars survived the fire, and I have the only key. Should we go and put together your machine now?" I arise, ecstatic to finally have a decent task to waste my time on, though nothing compares to my old research.
"Yes, let's !" Cain stands and slips on his overcoat.
"Jizabel, shouldn't we bring along Cassian? It just seems like he'd be more familiar with these machines than I am. And better at carrying around steel." I grab a scarf before getting ready to open the door.
"I... would feel more comfortable not getting him involved in these sort of things, again."
"I understand, Doctor."
The sun has gone low enough in the sky that you can see Venus through evening's lavender haze, by the time we emerge from the Hargreaves' cellars. I stand in the burnt ruins, now overtaken by ivy, waiting for the smell of mechanic's oil and metal to clear from my nostrils. I wait for Cain to emerge from the cellars; he may simply be wasting time in hopes that I decide to complete tonight's remaining work alone. How childish.
I knock on the cellar door before opening it to yell down to him.
"Cain, I am doing your Riff a favor. Do not waste my time like this." I sort through my pocket, making sure that both my scalpel and the syringes are present. One syringe is the usual sedative. The other is empty for use in running blood tests, now that we are not so pressed for time. When Cain finally steps out, he is examining his revolver as it is stowed away into his pocket.
I comment, mildly surprised:
"Cain, the location we will be retrieving a donor from is hardly dangerous." He looks down at the gun, not me.
"That's the issue I'd wanted to bring up, Doctor. We're not going to be getting a don- a person from your location. We'll go to some opium den and try to get someone who won't be missed."
This too amusing.
"Do you truly mean that, Cain? Are you willing to risk giving Riff syphilis in order to spare your conscience, because that does not sound very much like love to me." Cain pouts before putting the revolver away to look to me.
"Then you can use the equipment we just bought to test whatever blood we get. Life isn't about just accepting the choices someone gives you, Jizabel. You can change the paths you're given, or make something new entirely."
It is my turn to stare incredulous, arms crossed.
"I would suppose you know all about that, while I don't?
Very well, Cain. I'll humor you and let you decide what we do tonight, as well as the where and the when."
I lunge at the ruffian's jugular, after being taken by surprise and caught up in a knife fight. Cain doesn't shoot, on my order. The noise would draw too much attention. I'm a bit too slow now, from trying to be deliberate and cut the jugular without hitting the carotid. The jugular avoids the quick, gushing blood loss of a severed carotid.
The time when I'm pausing to watch where I move is enough for our would-be assailant to land a jagged slash on my palm and forearm. I don't have time to mind it as I rush to clasp that dying man's throat, so that not too much precious red blood is lost.
I yell out for Cain to bring my syringes and bags to be filled, quickly. I'd neglected to bring disinfectant and bandages, so there is nothing that can be done as the man's blood mixes with mine through the gash in my palm. Once all is finished, Cain and I rush to heave the exsanguinated corpse into the River Thames. Though I do miss seeing London's reaction to strange corpses. Those people still speak of Jack the Ripper as if "he" could be lurking behind the corner. But I have to be a bit more cautious now, without Delilah to cover my tracks.
We make the trek back to the burnt manor, and store all the blood save a single syringe in the cold dry wine cellars. The syringe goes home with Cain and I, so that I may test it, for pathogens and toxins, over the next hour. I lack the motivation to bandage my hand; during the wait for the results a satisfied Cain sits in the plush divan beside me. It's confusing:
"Cain, what we did now and what we did before are nearly the same. Pray tell, why are you smiling?"
"It's not the same; this man deserved it, he was a threat to society and would have ruined people's lives. I told you there's a way to make this work, Jizabel." I don't believe it, but I'm much too tired to bother spoiling the boy's mood.
I've nearly dosed off when Cain nudges me proclaiming:
"Doctor, those gels in the tube have changed color." I put the spectacles back onto the bridge of my nose and let my eyes adjust.
"Cain... I need to be absolutely certain that I am seeing things correctly. What color is the one second to the right?"
"It's purple, Doctor."
I feel my voice shift from an extreme soft to loud:
"God, do you have any idea of what this means, Cain? Do you know what this means about your genius idea? About changing your damned fate, Cain? My fate?"
Now he is standing in front of me with concern or caution clear on his face, while I remain seated on the divan suspiciously eying the bloodstained gash on my palm.
"It means syphilis, Cain. The man you choose apparently had syphilis . That means we have to throw all that blood out, and also...
It means that I have that disease because of you... You finally have suceeded killing me, Cain, and- and I am not at peace with that! Not this time, Cain..."
"Jizabel, are you sure? There- there has to be something we can do. Could your tests be wrong? We could try them again, then -"
"...Just- just bring me your collection."
"But... they're all poisons-"
"I know that! God, what do you think? That I am about to try to kill myself, again! I- I am not.
Your precious collection is the only chance I have to stop this disease from spreading through my body...
Bring arsenic acid and aniline. React them at ratio of one to one, dissolve the product ten to one in water...
Now, Cain!"
I do not need to speak twice as Cain rushes out of the room leaving the door ajar behind him.
He must want to escape my company... or maybe he actually cares about not killing his brother, despite what his name is. He might even feel guilt over inflicting this on me, might.
The most calming thing I can bring myself to do is pace in the foyer while wringing my hands. My own panic is enough to blind me and leave me numb to outside stimuli. I feel shock when someone's arms encircle me, though I know it is Cassian even before the softly muttered calm down.
"Get away from me, at once!"
I spin about and clutch my torn palm to my chest, not wanting to let the situation become any worse by spreading the disease to him. Cassian throws up his hands in some peaceful gesture and inches towards me, I try to be subtle and not let it show as I back away.
"Jizabel... I won't do a thing you don't want, but your hand's in pretty bad shape right there. Please, just let me see-"
I swallow the lump in my throat when I feel my back hover against the wall.
"Don't you dare!"
Desperate, I press the gash tightly against my chest, as if that could make him forget having seen my blood.
I've no want to worry someone who is willing to tolerate me with my problems like this; it is a bit wrong of him- to just accept me like this. Cassian just keeps his hands up during this stand off, when he speaks it is in a slow and mellow tone.
"Alright, I wont. How about then I just get you antiseptic and bandages? And maybe some whiskey for your nerves? Just take a seat before you pass out." I follow his last command, before stating that I don't want any whiskey. I speak up when Cassian's returned with the bandages and tincture.
"Why is it so hard for me to just apologize and explain these things to you?" I can't look up as I focus on my palm, while I sloppily bandage it, hearing Cassian's response in the background.
"...I'm not upset with you, Jizabel... having someone to explain things to is new for you.
And, besides, I saw those microbe tests at the front... I'm guessing something came back pretty bad?
I'll just sit here with you, while whatever it is your waiting on gets done."
I cant help speaking up when i feel the seat next to me sink in.
"Why are you dong this for me?" When I'm so used to facing everything alone goes unsaid, as always.
"Why wouldn't I want to do this for someone I care about?"
I am finally able to meet his eyes then, but still find myself unable to voice the moronic want drifting through my mind: the temptation to beg him to grant me the warmth that I've just spurned.
I don't have to beg, as Cassian simply wraps an arm around me as we face the ongoing night.
I've struggled valiantly, meekly- completely alone- against myself and the rest of world for years, involving another now... is just too much for me to learn, perhaps.
Godless brother,
As far as I can tell
The night won't compensate the blind
Wow, after this the whole story comes to about 50 pages... I keep saying I'm almost done and then "tiny chapters" balloon to 11 page monsters... thanks to all who've read/ faved/ interacted.
Fun fact: Arsanilic acid was a real cutting edge Victorian medicine, and among the first to be effective against syphilis. And the first "safe" cure. While less toxic than the alternatives, it's quite dangerous by modern standards.
Lyrics are from Godless Brother in Love by Iron and Wine; beautiful song.
