Tempest in a Teapot
Chapter 25: Something Unexpected This Way Comes
Arriving back at the picnic spot where he had just seen Helen not a minute ago, John immediately realized something was wrong. The remains of their meal were still there and their glasses had been overturned to lie sideways on the ground. He placed the wrapped cannolis down on the ground as he called her name out. No reply came. Lying discarded nearby on the ground was the pair of rose leather slippers Helen had coveted earlier. He grabbed a hold of them and shoved them into his left pocket. Alarm bells were going off his Druitt's brain and his head quickly swiveled around looking for clues as he went into hunter mode. Stepping closer to the trees he made out broken branches along the bottom of the cypress trees and began moving forward like a bloodhound stalking its prey.
Less than 300 feet away, Helen was struggling against her captor, whose large hands were clamped on her mouth and waist like a vise. Her hands flailed as she sought to strike at the unseen person. When she was unable to make sufficient contact, Helen bucked hard backward, striking the person in the chin with her head. A hissing cry preceded her abrupt release as both bodies collapsed to the ground. She fell hard onto her left wrist, crying out in pain, and managed to drag herself a few feet away before a hand wrapped around her foot and dragged her back.
"Let me go!" she yelled, kicking her feet as she tried to grab a hold of anything within reach. Her right hand wrapped around a rock and as the person went to grab her arm she swung back and struck him in the head. He gave out a high piercing shriek and stumbled backward, releasing his hold on her. She took the opportunity to pull her body up tighter and roll over to face her captor.
"You!" Helen gasped in disbelief, staring at the stranger who had come on to her earlier. She couldn't believe that she, Helen Magnus, been kidnapped by an amorous idiot. For goodness sakes, she was the ex-fiancée of Jack the Ripper and, as psychotic as John had been, he had never kidnapped her in an amorous fit. And yet here was this ridiculous suitor assuming he'd get away with that very thing. "What do you think you're doing?"
The man wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his sleeve and gave her a creepy grin. "I am Franco," he introduced himself with a stiff bow, pleased that he finally had her attention. "And I am going to have my way with you," he announced as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
"The hell you are," Helen retorted scooting back a bit until her back was up against a tree trunk. Her left wrist was throbbing in pain and she kept it pressed against her stomach. "Did your mother not teach you any manners when it comes to wooing a woman?" she asked sarcastically as she took stock of their location. They were in a small clearing and behind Franco an old, stone structure raised 2 stories high with a partially destroyed chimney on one side. In the far distance she could just make out the roofs of a few taller buildings from the city. Now that she had her bearings, Helen refocused her attention back on her kidnapper.
Franco had seated himself on a nearby rock and was leering at her. "Mamma left when I was much younger, after she taught me to hunt for myself."
"Hunt?" Helen repeated, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in alarm. "Like for wild boars and deer?" She slowly and awkwardly started to stand, using her right arm to help guide her up. The cursed volume of her gown made it a little more difficult to upright herself, particularly since she was sure her left wrist was badly sprained and of little use to her right now.
"Among other things," he smirked and stared at her like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.
Helen's eyes widened as she stared at his eyes. They were more an unusual shade of green-yellow… they flickered now and then as if Franco had an extra transparent eyelid that closed over his eyes protectively. "What are you?" she asked as she racked her mind for an abnormal that fit Franco's description.
He stood up and moved closer, sniffing the air. "Nothing you have ever seen before, my pretty."
"Oh you'd be surprised what I've seen," she replied as she fisted up her right hand. She didn't have a weapon on her, feeling it was unnecessary to carry one when she had John with her and she really regretted that decision at this very moment. Not knowing how close John was to locating her, Helen's only option seemed to be fighting unarmed.
Franco moved closer, continuing to sniff. "Not like me. I am special, I am," he insisted as he flicked a forked tongue out of his mouth and closed his eyes briefly. Helen moved quickly to her left and was stopped as the stranger swiftly mimicked her movements. "Your scent… it is most intoxicating," he almost purred and smiled at her again.
Helen's stomach began getting queasy again as she watched Franco's tongue flicker out over his bottom teeth once more. The tongue, added to the man's round head, flat wide nose and eye color, reminded her of a Kimono lizard. He certainly had the strength of one. And as she observed him closer, she also noted that his skin seemed rather sallow and patchy.
"John, where the hell are you?" she wondered as the abnormal moved closer. He was going to strike soon, she could feel it.
"I have never smelled anything quite like your scent," he said almost reverently. "You are a most beautiful young woman and yet… yet you smell older, much older than you appear." His head was weaving slowly back and forth as he sniffed the air. The tongue flickered out again and he smacked his lips as it retreated. "Most intriguing indeed."
"Do you always hunt humans?" she asked, hoping to stall him in order to give John time to locate them. She had no doubt that he was on their trail.
Franco shook his head. "No, too much trouble. Mostly just wild animals here and there. I only hunt the rare occasional human that strikes my fancy." His hand suddenly shot out and tried to touch her face, causing her to jerk back and block his hand with her fist. "That's not nice," he admonished her, sneering at her frightened look.
"Don't touch me," she snarled back.
"No one tells Franco what to do," he barked back and grabbed at her. She was able to hit him in the ribs with her elbow before he roughly grabbed hold of her right hand. They began to struggle against one another and, despite her bulky dress, she managed to kick him hard in the calf then up in the crotch. Franco roared in pain and lost his hold on her.
Nearby, Druitt heard the roar and spun around 360 degrees as he tried to judge where it came from. It was close but the woods were becoming more dense and darker as night was approaching. Time was becoming of the essence and he returned to the path he had been following, coming to a halt 20 feet later as a bright item caught his eye. Quickly moving forward, he reached down and picked the red item up – Helen's bouquet. They had come this way. Growling, he tossed the flowers aside and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his old reliable companion. He flicked the release which would spring the blade to life and bounded forward, anger boiling in his blood. Whoever took her was going to be very, very sorry.
Helen dodged past the abnormal and ran to her right towards the stone structure. Perhaps if she got inside she could barricade herself in until John arrived. She had almost reached the door when she was suddenly jerked back by the waist. Sharp pain descended upon her left arm as Franco sank his fangs into her upper arm area. Helen screamed in agony and was able to strike at his head with her right fist twice before he released her. She collapsed to her knees and pitched forward to the ground. Her right hand clamped down on the freely bleeding wound, from which a burning sensation was starting to radiate. Tears poured down her cheeks as she rolled onto her right side and pulled herself up against the stone wall.
The sight before her mirrored her own pain. Her blood dripping down his mouth, Franco was hissing and spitting out into the air, as if he had tasted something most foul. "What, what are you!" he hissed and spat again.
She had pulled her torn shawl off her shoulders and was wrapping her arm tightly to stop the blood flow. "I'm an abnormal, like you." Lightheadedness hit her and she leaned her head back against the stone as she stared at her attacker. The blood loss was affecting her but she suspected that some sort of toxin from the abnormal's bite was the bigger problem. The burning sensation in her arm was spreading throughout her body.
He had never experienced such a strong metallic taste as her blood before. It curdled his tongue and he only wanted to get the taste out of his mouth as soon as possible. She looked like a fairly young woman, only in her 30s, yet she tasted so much older. Older than anything he had ever tasted before. He smacked his mouth loudly twice more and then spat again. "You are with child!" he said in utter disgust. "It's tainted your blood, made you taste… old?" he said in confusion.
"I am old!" she gasped out in pain.
He looked at her then, her words finally sinking in. "You are an abnormal, like me?"
Helen looked up at him, stunned at his earlier words. Did he just say she was with child? Before she could reply they heard John yell her name from very close by. "John!" she yelled as loudly as she could. She was feeling weaker by the minute, the toxin probably taking hold.
"Your mate has tracked us," Franco proclaimed in shock, turning around just in time to hear John push through a thick clump of trees. He would be upon them soon. "How? No one has ever found me before."
"He's an abnormal too," she explained, "a very, very dangerous one. You made a very fatal mistake taking me." She forced herself to yell John's name again as her strength continued to seep away.
At that moment, Druitt flew through the last of the trees and stopped momentarily to take in the scene before him. Helen was collapsed upon the ground, leaning against the stone building. Her attacker stood a few feet away from her… and there was blood on his face. Glancing quickly back at her, Druitt saw how pale she was and that she was cradling her arm which was now wrapped in her shawl.
"Helen," John cried out, teleporting immediately to her. Kneeling by her side, he cradled her face with his hand. Fear gripped him as he saw how weak she appeared. Turning back to the other man, Druitt snarled, "What did you do to her?"
The sight of the taller man's teleporting ability had frozen Franco to the spot he stood in. Fear raced through his body as he saw the murderous look on the man's face. "What are you?" Franco asked in a terrified whisper. He had never seen anyone or anything move the way the tall man named John could move. The woman wasn't able to move this way and had seemed completely normal until he had tasted her spoiled blood.
Standing upright, head tilted down so that his eyes were focused fiercely on his opponent, Druitt moved his right hand out from his body so that the dimming light of dusk reflected off of his blade. "I am the man that is going to kill you," he announced in a dead hush that made the blood inside Franco run cold… well figuratively. As part reptile his blood was already colder than a pure human's.
Franco spun to run the other way only to find the other man suddenly standing before him, his face twisted in rage. Before he could move, he felt a sharp stabbing of a blade sink into his chest and an arm wrap around his neck in a crushing hold.
From her spot on the ground Helen heard the scuffle and Franco's strangled cry as John dispatched him. Opening her eyes, she found she was looking at the abnormal's back and John's incensed face as he looked down upon the creature he was killing. "John," she called out weakly, trying to get his attention.
The only thing Druitt could hear was the pounding of blood in his head as his anger consumed him. He could feel the last of life flowing from Helen's attacker and stared into its unusual eyes as they emptied of any consciousness. He pulled his blade out of the creature as he released his hold around its neck, allowing the body to fall to the ground in a loud thump. His breath was coming fast as he tried to regain control over his anger.
Hearing his name being yelled, John refocused his vision and saw Helen looking at him.
"Help me," she whispered weakly before darkness overtook her.
Helen's body slumping over sideway snapped him out of his trance. He rushed back to her side as he flicked his blade closed and put it back into his pocket. She was not the fainting type. "Helen!" Dropping to his knees, he cradled her face in his hands and called her name again. No response. He felt for her pulse on her neck and was alarmed to discover how weak it was. She was also warmer and paler than before. Nightfall was upon them now and he had to squint hard to make out the blood stains on her shawl. Quickly, he lifted her limp body into his arms and teleported them away.
James Watson had just returned from a tedious meeting with a wealthy banker who wanted his help in discrediting a suitor for the hand of a young woman both wanted. Watson had barely allowed the fop to complete his request before he politely but firmly turned him down and left. That was an hour of my life I'll never get back he thought in annoyance as he went to sit down in his favorite wing chair and reached for his glass of brandy. A pair of paws landed on his lap and he reached over to scratch the head of his English bulldog, Winston. "You are worth a thousand of those ridiculously wealthy fops," he announced affectionately to his faithful pet.
Unexpectedly, Winston yelped and scurried under the side table. Turning his head, James took in the sight of John standing in the middle of the library. In his arms was the limp body of Helen with her head dangling unconscious. The hand that Druitt had wrapped around her shoulder was bloodied and the look on his face was haunted. "Help me!" he cried as he moved toward him.
The blood drained from Watson's face. Leaping up, he grabbed the back of chair as he stared horrified at Helen's body. "My God, John, what have you done?"