Chapter 29

A returning feel of hunger reached my belly as I pulled away from Sweeney. His surprisingly strong scent stirred my innards the wrong way, bringing that uncomfortable feeling back to consciousness. It consisted of gin and cologne, with, if I was not mistaken, a coppery smell that reminded me a lot of... blood.

You guessed it.

It nearly had me choking up.

Noticing the face I pulled, Mr. Todd narrowed his eyes and dropped the last of the weight his hands had on my shoulders. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I replied shortly, blankly musing the odd swing in mood. "I'm... hungry, is all." I turned away from him and walked over to the refrigerator that Grandma installed only days after she moved in here, years ago. All this time, it was still the same one.

I grabbed the first thing I saw: a pear. I came to the sink and rinsed it just as Mr. Todd took position on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the whole truth, now is it?"

I rapped a paper towel around the pear just briefly to dry off the surface a little, then bit into it as I swiveled around to face Sweeney. "No. It isn't. Why can I smell blood on you?"

Don't you dare lie, Mr. Todd.

He didn't look particulary fazed by the question, as I thought he might've. He just blinked. "Why do you think?"

I was a little thrown off by his expressionless tone at first. I shook my head lightly, realizing that that was probably what his plan had been. I took another bite out of the pear before placing the back of my hands against my hips, making sure I didn't drop the fruit. "You... have a night shift at a butcher shop?"

Had I not used this question for the purpose of accusing him of something, he probably would've laughed.

"Oh," Sweeney's smile now only contained a wan feel about it - not exactly warm any longer. "I slit the throats of a few less honorable men, and everything I do to follow is marked as an act of slaughter?"

Yes!

I sighed. "Can you just answer the question?"

"If it helps my case, I never washed my jacket sleeve after I accidentally cut myself." Sweeney looked angry again, and... if I didn't know any better, a little hurt. He faced away from me, muttering to himself as he made for the side door, but I called out to him before he could reach for the knob.

"Wait!" I took the first few quick steps across the room to him, the pear now held lower at my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek out the window. He was sauntering in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. I looked back up at Sweeney, who was prompting me with a silent glare.

"I'm sorry," I explained, carefully edging around him to lean against the side door frame. "Knowing you, I won't even try to ask you to go easy on me; You've had it rough. I haven't... but... I guess that's why I act so weird around you sometimes. I've," I cracked a weak smile at him. "never met a... retired killer before..."

"And I've never met such an indignant girl such as yourself," Sweeney retorted, a coat of bitterness still tingeing his voice ever so slightly.

"I take pride in that," I stated, lifting my chin. "And," I held up a hand before he could say anything. "I'm sure you take pride in knowing that you could throttle every living member of my family with only one hand if you so desired."

"I've learnt not to act upon all of my desires," Mr. Todd murmured, placing his hand on the knob of the door. "That is why your grandmother hasn't joined your father in the ground already, along with your mother."

I faltered, stunned that he'd ever say something so horrible.

But in that same moment, I realized that he was right.

What I was about to say to insult him was wrong.

Swallowing down the part of me that was deeply hurt by his statement, I scuffed my foot across the floor when I spoke. "Why have you... held back from killing them, then?"

"Sometimes listening to your inner desire isn't always the right path to take," His voice was a few tones above a whisper. "Sometimes they're wrong too... and," he snorted. "besides, who else but Elle would bring up breakfast, lunch, and dinner? I can't say you three are all that comfortable around me... not as much as she is."

I pushed away from the wall, smirking. "I think you care about her."

"She's not herself when she's upset," Sweeney explained delicately, frowning. There wasn't much anger left in his eyes. "But... enough on that. I don't want you to think I'm going off hurting anyone. It's a hard thing to adapt to - not putting these razors to use," He clutched the silver handle sticking up from the holster. "When Elle... found me, I thought the least she could've done is house me in my one and only home," He looked around the room when he said this. "I never thought it'd do justice to wipe away the bloodstains. They were once there and rapidly dripping for a reason. Because of me. And this place was considered haunted - Elle supposed no one would enter, and no one has," His eyes flicked back down at me, glinting in the morning light. "That was, of course, until you showed up."

I smiled, simply feeling it the right moment to do so. Mr. Todd allowed a faint smile of his own to break into his usual, bitter grimace. He glanced outside, and seeing Derek, he grabbed hold of my shoulders and flipped me around until I was the one closest to the door.

"Enough with this... sentimental rubbish, lass. Go have fun." His voice grew teasing by the end.

My smirk reformed. "To what extent, concerning Derek?"

"You know I won't tolerate any fancy protest from you," Sweeney reached over me to turn the knob and open the door. "I drank heavily last night. My head's pounding."

"Is that why you were sleeping at the booth?" I asked curiously, despite him shoving me out the door.

"I can't imagine you understanding unless you've walked in my shoes."

He shut the door.

"I can walk in your shoes," I crossed my arms, now staring at solid wood and nothing more. "I still don't think I'd understand you any better."

When I received no response - not even a muffled one from the other side of the door, I turned away and scanned the long stretch of cobblestone sidewalk across the street, looking for Derek.

I spotted him, but not how I'd pictured.

An old lady was clutching both his arms in a tight grasp, talking incisively to his face. He was trying his hardest to struggle away, but she was obviously stronger than he had thought.

"Hey!" I called, choosing to sprint over immediately rather than stand and watch. As I came closer, I realized she was, as Grandma addressed her, Mooney. Or Mrs. Mooney, more formally spoken.

"Wha'd'ya want with the Lovett's, boy?" She rasped, staring Derek down threateningly.

He looked horrified.

"Wait - uh... you!" I skidded to a halt at least two feet away from the pair of them, jumping a little when her head snapped up to meet my look.

Yeah. She was definitely the one who grabbed me. She was wearing the same thing she had been the first time I saw her, with a long, dark blue poncho trailing on the ground around her feet, and a scarf around her head, the same color to match the poncho. It covered any hair from sight - if she had any.

Around her neck was a necklace, the pendant that of a silver, cresent moon.

"Valerie Lovett," She murmured, her hands dropping from Derek's shoulders in an instant.

"Should I get someone, Valerie?" Derek demanded, cringing when Mooney started towards me.

"No," I answered quickly, narrowing my eyes at the woman. "Let me speak to her first."

Derek didn't move from his spot. He just stared, his arms limply hanging at his sides.

"You've... grown." Mooney muttered, grabbing a strand of my curly hair quite briefly, frowning at it.

"That's funny," I hesitantly pulled away, snatching the piece of hair away from her clutch. "Teddy Turpin said the same exact thing."

"Don't listen to that... that rude, disrespectful man," Mooney growled, looking particulary angry now. "He doesn't know his place, he don't."

"Last I checked, he's making more sense than you are," I retorted. "Kinder, too."

She snorted, but obviously didn't care much to continue onward with the subject. "Tell your grandmother... the brew's almost ready."

I tilted my head to one side, confused. "What? What does that mean?"

"In those exact words, girl," She snapped. "You need not worry. It's Elle's responsibility. Not yours."

I was getting tired of hearing that. Majorly.

"She'll tell Mrs. Lovett later," Derek promised Mooney as he grabbed my arm, dragging me away pointedly.

"I will, Derek," I turned my back on Mrs. Mooney and began walking next to my friend, yanking my arm out of his hand as I went. "What... what do you think she meant? "The brew's almost ready"?"

"I don't know!" He exclaimed. "If anyone should know, it should be you!"

I shot my head backwards, surprised at his tone. "Excuse me, Barker! Did you get a bruise where she grabbed you, or something?"

"Actually... yeah," He rubbed his upper arm with a gentle hand, cringing at the light pressure.

I snorted. "All because of me. I should go kill myself, shouldn't I?"

He could tell I was being sarcastic. "Why not? The world would be a better place with fewer people in it, right?"

I punched him in the arm, just below the bruise. "Can it, Derek. If you're the cause of my demise, you're going down with me."

He laughed, despite the quick jerk his arm made to keep away from my fist. I joined in, breaking the faint tension immediately.

Not that it exsisted for long.

"Hey," Derek cut his laughing short. "Look." He pointed straight ahead down the sidewalk, until, on the corner, a boy who looked to be around our age came into sight. He had brighter, flaxen colored hair that was just a small touch longer than Derek's, nearly touching his shoulers, and he wore a long, orange t-shirt and dark beige shorts. The one thing that most definitely stood out (and just so happened to make me jump back a foot, at least) was the fact that, where his left arm should've been, was nothing. A stub was in its place, not even long enough to be in view unless looked at directly.

"Hey!" Derek called, waving at this boy who was evidently his friend. "Casey!"

The boy looked to his right, and when he saw us, he flipped around with bright eyes and a smile.

"You're back," Derek remarked, trotting forward without even looking at me. "What's up, bro?"

"Augh," Casey ran his one and only hand through his hair, groaning. "Mum wanted to return early. Something about... school, and picking up the grades ahead of time." He smirked at Derek, and Derek returned this sly look.

It was then that it occurred to me: school was starting in only... a week? God, the beginning of summer break had started and ended too quick for even making time for an overview.

"And... who is this lovely creature?" Casey looked over Derek's shoulder at me, raising his eyebrows.

"This is Valerie Lovett," Derek explained, his eyes fleetingly flicking over my own shoulder down the street as he spoke. "She's the granddaughter of Elle Lovett..."

"Really?" Casey's blue eyes looked as though they were about to bulge right out of his head. "She-she lives in 186, doesn't she?"

"And proud to say so," I put forward, crossing my arms. "I've been staying with her for a while - no ghosts."

That wasn't really a lie.

Looking surprised that I obviously already knew what he was going to say, Casey shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly anxious. "Mrs. Lovett caught us sneaking around there once. Told us to stay out if we knew what was best for us. No doubt it's 'cause the Demon Barber's still on the loose, whether folks like it or not," He squinted at me. "I think he still lives."

"A-among us?" Derek stammered, stealing a nervous glance at my face before I could catch it. "C-come on, Case! That... can't be true. Just because no one of this time was around when they found a body down in the old bakehouse - that doesn't mean it never happened. They probably took any remains and brought them somewhere where no one would find them."

I've got a remain worth every petty story in my grandmother's kitchen right now, Barker. And he's alive. I was fortunate enough to keep this statement to myself.

"Do you know the life expectancy of a demon, Derek?" Casey questioned, his voice not needing to be heightened in order to catch our full attention.

"Is it... long?" I asked quietly, not realizing I had rapped my arms around myself for reassurance.

"Could be," Casey answered, tilting his head towards me. "How should I know? I've never met a demon."

The three of us were silent again.

Desperately wanting to get off this uncomfortable subject, I looked down towards the place in which his left arm should've been, frowning. "So... how did... that happen?"

"Oh," Casey looked down his shoulder at the stub, smirking. "It happened last year. Broke my arm, they put it in a cast, and it never got better," He looked back up at me. "So they lopped it off. You know how it goes."

"Yeah," I rubbed my own left arm with my right hand. "It happens to me all the time..." The way he explained it didn't make all that much sense, but I supposed there was some way in which an adult would explain it, and it'd be a little more surgically involved. "How did you break your arm, anyway?"

Casey's eyes were alit once again. "I skateboarded off a roof! The school's roof, no less!"

"In fact, even better," Derek touched knuckles with Casey, wearing a crooked grin.

He looked far more commonplace with another boy. Like he did whenever I saw him hanging with Tobit, even if they were much farther apart in age.

"Dude," (I had a feeling I'd be hearing that word a lot between these two)Derek gasped, his hand dropping down by his side in a sharp movement. "How are you going to balance on your skateboard with only one arm? You need the other."

Casey brought his hand up to his chin, tapping his lower lip with one finger. If he had usage of the other arm, I pictured it'd be resting at his hip. "I could... always get a mechanical one."

"No, I-I think that only if the limb is hooked up to your blood circulation can you balance with it," Derek protested, looking heavily confused now.

"I could ask them to make me one that sticks straight out all the time," Casey put forward, as though it were some important proposition.

As ridiculous as I felt for doing so, I joined in on the debate. "Well that's a stupid idea; what if you were walking through a narrow doorway? You'd get stuck."

"Damn, Valerie's right," Derek's shoulders sagged.

Ooh. Bummer.


We ended up walking back to Casey's house, which was much farther away from Fleet Street than Derek's was. I, in fact, felt scarily not-at-home in the new environment. It was... a little more colorful. Not terribly.

Derek decided to go in to catch up with his friend, but I stayed out; I wanted to get a walk in before it started getting dark. I wasn't really thinking about the dangers of being outside at a time like this.

That was, of course, until I got nearer to Fleet Street.

As I turned the corner onto said street, I saw absolutely no one in sight. The ominous slamming of a door in the distance made me look over my shoulder, my heart jumping. The once humid, pretty night that I experienced two days before Dad's funeral seemed a mile away now, lost with my diminishing confidence. The air was cold. There was no other way to describe it.

Footsteps across the cobblestone several feet behind me made me look over my shoulder once again, only to be met with nothing. No one.

But even after I forced my face forward again, picking up the pace, I still heard them. They continued in the alleys to my left, not stopping. Every time I could swear to have seen someone passing in between two shops, I'd look and end up staring at empty spaces.

"Not one man, no, nor ten men, nor a hundred can assuage me..."

I stopped dead in my tracks, and my heart which I believed to never be capable of stopping in its rapid pumping slowed. When my feet brought me to a halt, the pair of shoes padding through the alleys knew to do so as well.

That voice.

I knew that voice.

I flipped around on the spot, feeling strong chills sweeping past me, ruffling my blouse and buffeting my hair in the opposite direction in which it fell. Around me, I felt the precence of many others. More footsteps. The clopping of hooves against the pavement, followed closely by wheels. Whispers turned to shouts, those similar to a busy street without any cars. Before I knew it, I could see the wind rushing past me, strong enough to nearly take me off my feet had I not pressed down hard to keep myself upright and standing.

"I will have you!"

A hand found its way around my neck, alongside a glistening knife flecked with dried blood at the edge.

I managed to scream this time. And punch.

I received a grunt at the impact of the swing I threw this person's way, but that was all. Geoffrey's voice from above me didn't keep me from falling even deeper into the blackness that was engulfing my vision.

"Where's your mother, lassie?"

Instead of responding, I fell to the ground at his feet, and my eyes slid shut.

"Oh, this is no time to play dead, girly," His foot shot out, kicking me. "Get back up! You may still be fortunate enough to have your life spared!"

I would've listened, but I couldn't help it. I certainly wasn't playing dead.

I just had to succumb to what was claiming me, like many times prior.

None of this was my decision.

None of it.


No. Of course Casey wasn't inspired off of K.C. from Clifford the Big Red Dog, the dog with only three legs (and one of my favorite characters). Why in the world would you think that?

;D

Yes. If you were wondering, Valerie does slip unconscious at the end. Again. The next chapter should be interesting...

Thank you to EleKat (Did you get my message? I replied), Storyteller222 (Lol. I hope 'strange' is a good thing in your views), and xSilentDawnx (I'm glad you liked Sweeney's and Valerie's nearly-too-overly sentimental moment. :) I don't mean to make things that sappy. It just... happens) for reviewing!