Victor Thorne had not come back. Weather it was the suspicions that kept him back or the premonitions that haunted the man, it was known for certain that he would not return to that shop until he knew. He needed to know.
The howling wind tore at Mr. Thorne's coat as he made his way into town, determined to find the one he was searching for, even if it meant giving up the comforts of his small home. Suspicions had to be confirmed.
He had no family; there was no reason for such foolish commitments. If the past guard had wanted any pleasures that came to being with a woman, he would hire a prostitute. Women were meant for one purpose, and that was to be there in bed and to be gone before the sun rose. Children irked one to the highest point, until control was inevitably lost. Family, how the heart yearned, yet reason simply denied.
Victor crossed the road, glaring at any fool who dared step to close to his stride, or any woman who had the audacity to allow her gaze to linger. As he approached a group of London Bobbies, a smile formed slowly on his pale lips. He would have what he yearned for.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Victor droned with a tip of his head. "I believe I have something to report."
"Oh, you do, do you?" one of the officers jeered. "Oy, I ain't heard a good story in a while."
"I do believe this one may be of particular interest."
"Well, go on then!"
Scowling, Thorne explained in a sly voice. "I do not suppose you have the recollection of a man named Benjamin Barker?"
A constable lifted his head in interest. "I was the one who arrested the bloke. What about him?"
"Do you believe that it is possible that he returned here to London? I do. I have the slightest presentiment that he is back."
A hearty laugh escaped the man, his laughter shaking his stomach so that he clutched at it, tears of mirth stinging his eyes. "That blighter…Benjamin Barker…Back?"
"Please gentlemen, this is very serious…"
"Serious? Good lord, man. Barker was shipped off to Australia!"
"I am well aware of that. Are you in the knowledge that he escaped from Australia, dear constable?" Victor questioned in great displeasure.
The smile on the man's face faded. "How would you know that? You are merely a citizen."
Now the mortification was nearsighted.
"I am Victor Thorne, personal guard to Barker's rank. I was there when the man escaped on a raft he constructed and I…"
"Like hell you are! Victor Thorne. You are the idiot that allowed Barker to make his attempt! Do you honestly think that a mere prisoner can escape a continent on the other end of the world and manage to swim his way back to London, jovial and breathing? He's at the bottom of the blasted sea, eating sand for breakfast while you stand here, questioning his existence," the man roared.
"Barker is dead as is your career because you could not see a prisoner, plain as day, constructing a raft in the woods! I ought to be easy on you though. We got word of his escape less than a year ago…served us a real good laugh."
The guard motioned towards the end of the street. "Get out of our sights before we take you to prison for unjustified hallucination, you bleeding fool."
Victor spat at the floor on which the officers stood, his act of disrespect only ridiculed by the guards' shrieks of hilarity.
Very well! If the law was not on his side then he, Victor Thorne, would take matters into his own hands. He damn well knew that this barber by the name of Sweeney Todd was none other than the naïve Benjamin Barker! But perhaps, not as naïve…After all, time does change a man.
What would he do? How would he proceed to take on this new challenge? It was simple. There were women at Todd's home…One way to break a man was to take the ones he loved, was it not? If he was to get Sweeney Todd to break, he would have to attack from different places…from the areas where one hurts the most… Maybe then he could convince the barber to give the law a confession in which he stated his true identity. Then he, Victor Thorne, would get his career, as well as his honor back. It was just a matter of how and when to strike…
He would have to wait…and then he would attack with as much power as he could. Then he would win. Victor Thorne never lost.
Sweeney continued to do what he mostly did on his brooding days. He paced, sharpened his razor, gazed out of his window, and imagined what it would be like to run his blade across the vulnerable neck of his enemy.
Lucy and Johanna had returned back to work, Lucy restoring her old bedroom while Johanna helped with the pie making business.
The bedroom had been dusted off and the sheets were washed, yet a certain force darkened the room to Lucy. Perhaps it was the degrading past or it was that the window was smudged again. Sweeney did not seem to take any interest in the room. He allowed his gaze to linger for a while, his eyebrows pulling together as he took on a face of exposure. The stone glare had then returned and he left the room without a word towards his wife. Lucy sighed to herself and lied down on the bed where her old husband would stroke her hair as he vowed his love to her.
Johanna's mind returned to the man whom her father had been menacing over for the past week or two. Mr. Thorne had given her the coldest glare her eyes had ever seen when she had first met him, yet the look in her father's eyes seemed to take the lead. Her father was a far more terrifying man when he was in his ominous moods. Far more…
Johanna yelped as she dropped the cup in which she had been serving a man scotch. He sat back with a start, and muttered, "Christ, miss! Are you feeling right in the head?"
With a nod, Johanna placed the cup upright and filled the glass with the pitcher's contents. "I do apologize, sir." These days were truly taking their toll.
"Alright, alright," he mumbled under his breath.
A miserable sigh escaped Johanna as she leaned against an empty booth, exhaustion and worry devastating her. "Damn idiot," she whispered to herself.
A man on the other side of the eating area raised his cup in the air, most likely in need for another refill. His hand was held high in the air, as if he was holding it high in determination.
Gathering her strength, Johanna lifted herself to a straight position and walked towards the man whose cup was still raised in the air. A hat concealed his face so that the girl could barely make out any movements.
She approached him with a smile of formality, only to be swapped with a look of opened mouthed horror. Mr. Thorne gave her a delicate grin and motioned towards the empty seat in front of him.
"Please," he hissed. "Take a seat."
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LIKE A MOTHER! Thorne is going to start screwing with Sweeney so bad and Sweeney is going to get so incredibly pissed, you won't know who the bad guy is!
Ha, so leave a review and thanks for the new ones. I missed you guys and you all will be credited for them.
As you know, a Sweeney Todd story cannot be a Sweeney Todd story unless there is death, angst, or death. So, my readers, I would like you to inform you that character deaths are on their way. You may leave a review and tell me who you wish to live or die, but I pretty much made up my mind. I just like to see how you guys think!
Okay, you have been warned. I'm going to go now and I should be able to update early next week.
Your obedient author,
Lovebug