Wow! Thank you guys so much for your kind reviews on the last chapter! I'm so happy to see so many people enjoying this story so far! I really appreciate you guys complimenting me on my historical accuracy and the portrayal of the characters. It's stuff like this that always inspires me to keep writing, so thank you! Also, thank you to everyone who has followed this story and added it to their favourites. All of your support means the world to me!
4: Incoming Storm
A strangled cry escaped past Flora's lips as her eyes snapped open. Small rays of light from the limited light of the day filtered through the boards that covered most of her window. Though the air was cold and sharp, not a single hint of breeze made its way into her room. Cold sweat prickled against Flora's skin as she continued to gasp for air and calm her racing heart. Memories of red eyes still haunted her, and the ghost of the creature's touch still singed her skin. For a moment that felt like eternity, Flora had no idea what to think; fear had taken complete control of her.
A dream. It was only a dream.
Flora forced herself to take a deep breath, the cold air stinging her dry throat as she also attempted to untangle herself from the fabrics she had obviously been thrashing around in in her sleep. Her head spun as she tried to process the strange, terrifying nightmare that she had just experienced. Flora had never really been one to experience such vivid dreams. The dreams she could remember were always mundane. It was disturbing that she'd experienced her first truly petrifying, vivid nightmare. A very strange one at that, as well. How could her imagination have come up with such a creature? And then for it to transform into the butler from yesterday? To say that Flora was unsettled would be an understatement.
Her limbs continued to shake, both from the cold and from fear as she forced herself to sit up properly. Her joints cracked, and her stomach practically screamed at her due to not having a proper meal in weeks. However, hunger was the least of her concerns right now. The young woman just couldn't get that dream out of her head. Even when conscious, those red eyes still bored into her, locking her in place with its hypnotizing gaze, just like a snake charmer. Her mother had always been superstitious and warned her of unholy demons, but Flora had never entertained the idea of taking her words seriously until now.
Flora then shook her head as her heart finally settled down into a steady rhythm before she forced out a humourless laugh. Now she was just being stupid. There was no such thing as demons or any such creatures. She had just had a bad dream after experiencing a very stressful day. Her fears of the butler and the earl had projected themselves into her unconscious thoughts, and that was all.
The sound of a church bell chiming in the distance finally brought Flora back into reality. She ran her dry skinned hands over her face as the sound of chatter from the alleyway beneath her window reached her ears. At least her new bird friend hadn't woken her up super early like it had done yesterday. But Flora knew that if she stayed up here any longer, she was likely to get into trouble with her master, John. He probably had a very long list of things for her to do today.
Just as Flora moved to stand up, something shone in the limited light, immediately capturing her attention. The object was so dark that Flora was surprised she had even spotted it, but it was so glossy that it had managed to capture the light at just the right moment. Confused, Flora reached down to pluck the black feather from the rotted floorboards beneath her. Her blue eyes widened, taking in the sheer size of the feather that looked like it could belong to the wings of an angel rather than a simple blackbird or crow.
Had the crow from yesterday gotten into her room somehow as she slept? She doubted it could have squeezed through the gaps in the wooden boards, but stranger things had happened. She knew that most animals tended to be more flexible than they originally appeared. She'd watched a stray cat squeeze its way through a tiny crack in a wall once.
But the feather was so huge! Almost the length of her forearm. It was silky and soft to the touch, and appeared strong, capable of soaring its owner high into the sky. Flora couldn't help but find herself fascinated. She would definitely keep it as a strange memento. Maybe it could be her very own good luck charm, or something to that effect. Lord knows Flora needed some good luck right now. Black was often seen as a bad omen, but Flora had always liked the colour. As long as it wasn't the mould on the walls or the slime on the cobbles. There was something graceful and mysterious about it.
With a small smile, Flora tucked the feather into her skirt pocket for safe keeping. Her body ached from her rough night as she then dragged herself down the stairs and into the workshop below. John was busy talking to some customers by the sound of it, and Flora was certainly in no mood to socialise, especially not after dealing with the earl and butler. Instead, she made her way into the tiny kitchen area that consisted of nothing more than a cooking pot that was hardly ever used, some clay mugs and plates, all of which were strewn across an old, damp wooden table. The air in the building felt much more stale than usual, not helping her painfully dry throat at all.
John had left a small mug of ale out and Flora took a quick swig. She'd always hated the taste of the stuff, but it beat drinking out of the local water pump. Flora might not be educated, but she was fairly sure that water was not originally supposed to be dark brown in colour. There was no food left, but that didn't come as a surprise. The back door barely provided shelter from the cold air that leaked through, and Flora could now see through the gaps that the smog was much worse today than it was yesterday. Her chest constricted at the mere sight of it.
"Ah, there you are, Flora," John's voice called from behind, startling her slightly. "I was just about to come and wake you. A shame to see your early rising lasted for only a day."
Flora rolled her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't help it if she was tired and exhausted all of the time.
"We have quite the number of things to do," he continued as Flora turned around to face him. He was in the middle of wiping his hands on his apron, not that it was really making much of a difference. Their skin was permanently stained dark and ashen, and their clothes were no different. "There's a rumour going around that a nasty snow storm is heading our way, so I need to make sure the projects I've been working on are finished by the evening for collection, and I need you to head out and pick us up some supplies."
Flora's shoulders slumped at this announcement. Another day in the city. She had been hoping for a day where she was alone in the workshop and could just focus on her drawings. But if word about this storm was true, then they were definitely going to need supplies. They had no food, no coal, and it looked like they were now down to their last small jug of ale.
John began fishing through his pockets before handing Flora some coins he had pulled out.
"This is the last of our spangle, so make sure you're only buying stuff that we need." He shot her a warning look, to which Flora could only shuffle sheepishly in response. "Grab what you can, and spend it all if you have to. We'll need food, ale, and see if you can grab us some coal."
Flora was about to open her mouth to speak when John cut her off.
"And no stealing from the depot," he warned her in a hushed whisper so the customers on the other side of the thin wall wouldn't hear.
"Fine," Flora sighed out. Stealing from the depot would probably be impossible today anyway. If there were rumours about a snowstorm, then the workers would likely be more on their guard when it came to coal thieves. Hopefully Flora would bump into a few chimney sweepers selling the soot they had collected from their work. That stuff was the easiest to make a fire out of.
"Make sure you're back before the evening, as they say the storm is due to hit by nightfall," John instructed, still giving her a stern look. "And please… stay out of trouble."
"No promises on that one, I'm afraid," Flora half-joked. It wasn't as if she purposefully went looking for trouble. Far from it. Trouble just seemed to find her just fine on its own. Whether it was drunks, undercover peelers, accidentally stumbling across opium dens, getting stuck in bog, or many of the other adventures out there, you could guarantee that it would find Flora somehow.
"Just be careful," John practically begged before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.
On a tight schedule, Flora immediately turned and slipped her way out of the back door, not wanting to interact with any of the more comfortable or middle class customers that they would occasionally get. The door led out into the alleyway with no yard to separate it. The space was tight, barely a few inches across before the next row of back-to-back terraced houses began. Everything was covered in filth, the bricks blackened by the polluted air, and the cobbles were barely visible under the layers of mud, and both animal and human waste. Broken bottles also littered the area as well as burnt out cigarettes and cigars.
A few people were lingering in the alley, barely paying Flora any attention as she stumbled by. Many of them were leaning against the wall, their sunken in eyes staring at nothing as they remained glazed over. Most were nothing but skin and bone. Some had missing limbs, and everyone's complexion was either covered in dirt, grime, pox marks and growths, or a mixture of all of these. The atmosphere was depressing as many of them sat there on the cold ground, simply existing and nothing more. Bottles of gin were clutched in many of their hands, and mucous filled coughs drowned out any other sounds from the surrounding city.
Flora kept her head down, careful of where she placed her feet. She followed the narrow, claustrophobic streets further south until she reached the wider street of Whitechapel Road, coming to rest next to the brewery. Even the main streets of London were quieter today, likely due to the heavy smog. The rich had the luxury of being able to stay indoors. Few horses pulling carriages trotted past her, followed by some navvys who had been working on the new nearby canal. A few vagrants were begging on the side of the road, many of them having bit into cheap soap to make themselves appear sick. Flora had tried that trick once which had nearly resulted in her being arrested.
Just as Flora was about to cross the street, she gasped and ducked as a glass bottle flew past her head before smashing to pieces against the wall next to her. Her heart leapt into her throat as she froze in place, her eyes scanning the streets to find the culprit.
"Hey! Whatcha… watch wha' ya doin'… tha' ma… tha' ma… drink!" A scrawny man slurred as he stumbled towards her with his makeshift wooden cane. His legs protruded at odd angles, as did his fingers. His face was swollen and flush, purple veins visible beneath his skin. Most of his features were hidden by his flat-cap, and his discoloured clothes hung loosely from his skinny frame.
Flora took a deep breath to calm herself, choosing to ignore the drunk as he continued stumbling around and talking to himself. Needing no more encouragement, she sprinted across the road, almost getting run over by a horse in the process. The horse squealed, pulling its two front legs into the air before a sharp whip of the reigns from the driver managed to settle it down. He shot Flora a glare which she ignored as she continued running. She rounded a corner before stopping, clutching at her burning and protesting chest before she erupted into a loud coughing fit.
It felt like she was trying to cough up a hedgehog with the way her throat was feeling. She placed the back of her hand over her mouth in an effort to quieten her heaving. The air was so thick with smog that she could barely breathe. The smell of raw sewage lingered in the air as well, like a deadly miasma that seeped into every nook and cranny. Factories and mills by the river whistled, infants cried, drunk men and women shouted, dogs barked, and horses' hooves clicked against the cobbled road.
Flora's coughing finally settled down, and she pulled the back of her hand away before whimpering at the sight of fresh blood on her skin. However, she didn't have time to dwell on it. She only had until evening, and since she didn't know how to tell the time, she could only estimate based on lighting. The sun was blocked out and had been for weeks now, but a faint glow managed to fight its way through the smog. If Flora had to guess, it was likely around midday. She better get moving.
It didn't take her long to reach one of the few bakeries that she trusted. The glow from the oven inside was warm and inviting, and the smell of fresh bread was just noticeable under the usual filthy smell. There was only one other customer inside, making Flora feel more at ease. Her shoes clicked against the worn stone steps of the wonky building before she let out a shiver as the warmer air of the bakery hit her. The other customer nodded their head in polite greeting which Flora mirrored before the gentleman grabbed what he needed and left.
"Hello, Flora, it's great to see you're still around," Mr. O'Brien, the baker, greeted her. He had always been a friendly man, and refused to cut corners in his baking, one of the many reasons that Flora trusted him. He was pudgy and slightly more well off than everyone else in the neighbourhood, but he was always very humble. His face was flushed from the heat of the oven, and sweat stained his grey cotton shirt.
Flora smiled at him, despite her throat closing up around any reply she could have uttered. Instead, all she could do was gesture to the freshly made bread. It was darker and likely on the wholegrain side, but food was food; they couldn't afford to be picky and pretend to be wealthier by purchasing white bread. The portion was large, and would likely last them a week if they rationed it carefully. Bread going stale was usually not a problem as they were used to it. Providing the whole thing hadn't turned green, they would still eat it.
"How's John doing? I haven't seen the geezer in a while?"
Again, Flora smiled and nodded, signalling that he was doing okay.
"That's great to hear. That'll be two shillings please, Miss Byrne."
Flora rummaged through her pocket before pulling out a florin and handing it to the baker. He thanked her, and Flora didn't stay a second longer, determined to complete all of her errands before the storm would strike. But upon stepping outside, Flora began feeling that strange sensation in her chest again; like someone had wrapped a hook around her and was tugging her. She furrowed her eyebrows in concern and confusion. Maybe it was just her cough acting up again. However, that didn't explain her sudden paranoia and her feeling of being watched.
Trying to be subtle, Flora scanned the area around her. There didn't seem to be anything unusual, just people going about their day. Nobody seemed to be watching her. Maybe her nightmare had affected her more than she previously thought.
Attempting to shrug it off, Flora began wandering the streets, hoping to spot something else that might help them wait out the storm. She glanced down at the money in the palm of her hand, unable to count it, but luckily knowing the names of every coin and what they were worth. On her travels, she passed the coal depot and looked towards it longingly. Lumps of coal were piled high on top of each other, workers shovelled it onto train carriages ready to be shipped off, and others shared Flora's longing glance. It was so tempting to slip through the fence and help herself. It would save them money and keep them warm throughout the rest of winter. But one narrow-eyed glare from a police officer was enough to make her step back with a sigh.
Her small sack hung limply from her arm as she trailed along the streets, the clawing sensation in her chest never once abating. Flora couldn't help but notice that it only seemed to happen when the Phantomhive butler was around, but that would just be ridiculous. Besides, he was long gone. At least, that's what Flora hoped, anyway.
Flurries of snow began to penetrate the smoggy air, causing Flora to pick up her pace. She perused some of the cheap market stalls, hoping that maybe somebody was selling lumps of coal, but alas, nobody was. The feeling of being watched just would not go away, and Flora was past being scared at this point; now she was just annoyed. She marched around with a frown on her face before her expression finally relaxed when she caught sight of a group of chimney sweepers. They must be done with their shifts for the day, and their masters were nowhere in sight.
Gripping her sack tighter, Flora made her way towards them before stopping in front of one of the boys who looked to be no older than four-years-old. He was incredibly skinny and his face was black with soot. It was difficult to tell where his skin ended and his clothes began as everything was stained the exact same coal black. He shivered as he held a basket of little cotton pockets of soot, tied and kept together at the top by a thin piece of rope. The boy coughed and spat up black mucous before he finally noticed Flora heading towards him. His posture grew stiff as Flora picked up one of the make-shift soot bags before pointing to it in question. The boy seemed to immediately understand her silent question.
"That'll be five shillings, Miss." His voice was hoarse, like that of an old man who had been chain smoking all of his life, rather than that of a young boy.
Five shillings? Flora thought for a moment. That was pretty expensive and no doubt would eat heavily into her purse, but there was no way she could really pass up on it. The other soot portions were selling fast with news of the incoming snowstorm. So with a sigh, Flora handed over the money. It saddened her to think that the poor boy probably wouldn't be able to keep any of the spangle. He was so small and fragile looking. Despite his dirty appearance, he was so innocent and adorable.
With a wink, she snuck an extra few pennies into his pocket when nobody was looking. His eyes widened, and he looked like he was about to cry as he stared up at her in shock. Flora raised her finger to press it against her lips, and the young boy quickly nodded before she stepped back and began making her way towards the ale stand. The heavy bottles bankrupted her. She had hoped to maybe purchase some more straps of fabric for warmth, but at least she had managed to purchase the most necessary supplies.
Flora's chest continued to ache as she began making her way home. The streets were growing quieter as people began to seek shelter. No doubt the workhouses would be busy tonight. Flora wasn't sure if even a snowstorm would encourage her to take shelter in such a place. She had briefly attempted entry once, but witnessing a man loose his eye while breaking rocks caused her to panic and flee, much like that time she had fled a factory after watching a young girl, who had been around her age at the time, get crushed to death in one of the machines. Her shredded skin and muscle would forever haunt her. Production had ground to a stop, and everybody had lost a day's wages because of the accident.
A whimpering to her left soon caught her attention and brought her out of her horrible memories. She turned to see a dog curled up under a window sill, its thin and matted fur providing little protection from the elements. It looked like it barely had the energy to lift its head, and Flora's heart immediately broke. It was impossible to tell what colour its fur originally was from all of the dirt. Old wounds and scars were scattered about across patches of exposed skin, and Flora couldn't help but fall to her knees next to it.
The dog whimpered again, briefly sniffing at her before seemingly giving up and letting its head drop again. Something about the look in its eyes reminded her of the look that many in her neighbourhood possessed. That far-off, distant gaze. The gaze of creatures that had given up on life. That no longer possessed the energy to exist, but still, they did. Their torture prolonged as if they were already trapped in purgatory. Was any sin truly deserving of that feeling of hopelessness? Flora wasn't sure that there was.
Reaching a hand out, Flora attentively ran her fingers through its rough fur, and the canine leaned into her touch slightly, starved of affection. The snowflakes were beginning to grow larger, the storm approaching fast, making Flora worry over the dog even more. The poor thing would likely freeze to death. John may not like it, but maybe the dog could stay with them, at least until the storm passed. It wasn't as if the landlord would be checking up on them during that time.
Mind made up, Flora reached a hand into her little sack before breaking off a piece of bread and holding it out to the dog. Its ears perked up slightly and it tried to raise its head to sniff at the substance in her hand. She brought her hand closer, being mindful that the dog could snap its jaws around her hand in a ravenous hunger at any second. But the canine was gentle as its tongue lapped at her fingers, taking the small piece of bread with it as it retreated. It didn't even appear to bother to chew. But the sight of the dog then perking up slightly was relieving. Perhaps it realised that it didn't have to give up on hope and life after all.
Flora smiled as she continued to run her fingers soothingly through its fur. It let out a squeaky yawn before shakily pushing itself onto its feet. It shook off the snow that had gathered on its fur, and Flora giggled as some of the cold snowflakes hit her in the face. It staggered slightly, but otherwise seemed well enough to walk back to the house at least.
"Come on, you can stay with me until the storm passes," she whispered into its ear.
The dog stared up at her as she began leading it down the street, however, they both soon paused just outside of a Jewish cemetery as the feeling of being watched increased tenfold. Flora's eyes widened as she realised that her new canine companion could sense it too. So she wasn't going crazy. There really was something out there that brought on such great feelings of unease. She clutched at her sack tighter, terrified in case it was some desperate thieves.
The dog's ears were perked up all the way, its tail curling inwards between its back legs. Its hackles were raised and it began to flash its sharp teeth as it growled into the darkness. The snowfall was growing heavier and the breeze was beginning to pick up. It whipped all around her, slashing at any exposed skin like sharp knives. Still, the feeling persisted. Flora's eyes darted around, barely able to see anything. She could just about make out the headstones of the graves, the tiny pebbles and rocks being blown off the top of them. For a split second, Flora could have sworn that she saw purple eyes staring at her from the darkness, but as soon as she blinked, they had vanished.
Any scream she could have produced was immediately cut off by a strong hand clamping down over her mouth. The dog barked and growled wildly as Flora thrashed around in a panic. Hot breath wafted against her neck as her arms were pinned against her sides. In her panic, she dropped her sack of supplies, the contents spilling out over the ground. Bottles of ale smashed, leaking their contents everywhere.
"We meet again, little wild child," a familiar male voice spoke in her ear. Another man appeared from the darkness in front of her, looking very familiar as well. That's when it clicked. These were the two men who had tried to attack her yesterday. Her heart sank as she began to shake in fear.
"And don't think you can pull the stunt you tried yesterday," the man not holding her growled out. They were both more on their guard as they stood close to her, looking down at her with distain.
"Now give us back what you stole, and maybe we might let you go," the man holding her threatened.
Stolen? What the hell were they talking about?! Flora hadn't stolen anything! At least… not in the past few days anyway. Were they referring to that stupid box they had seen her with yesterday? As far as Flora knew, it was still on her desk where she had last left it. What did they want with such a silly thing? Did they not know what was inside and mistakenly thought it was something valuable? Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Couldn't they see that she didn't know anything?
"I'd co-operate if I was you; our employer grows very impatient." A new, female voice filled the air.
Flora froze.
That voice. She knew that voice.
Her eyes flickered towards the direction of one of the narrow alleys just in time to see Mary appear from the shadows. Despite the cold air and strengthening storm around them, she still wore her usual attire to entrance men into her bed. Her bright red lips stood out as the only source of bright colour around them, and her eyes instantly widened when she caught sight of just who her co-workers had captured.
"Flora?!" she gasped.
All Flora could do was stare back, filled with fear and confusion.
Mary turned her attention to the two men holding her. "This was the girl you said had the box?"
Flora could feel them both nodding.
"You know this bitch?" one of them sneered.
Mary frowned. "She's just an innocent child; let her go."
"But –"
"I said, let her go."
Both men huffed before releasing Flora and stepping back. The dog's growls quietened, but its hackles remained raised as its eyes remained locked on the men. Mary raised an eyebrow at the dog before shaking her head and rolling her eyes; Flora's animal obsession was notorious. Flora's eyes remained wary as Mary stepped towards her calmly, trying to offer the girl a small smile.
"Sorry about them, they tend to love scaring the shit out of people," Mary explained. "Now, we don't have much time, Flora. The storm is coming in and we need that box that you have."
Flora cocked her head in question, still shaky and hyper aware of the two angry men behind her.
"Still not talking?" one of the men grunted.
"It's fine." Mary shot him a warning look. "I'll handle this while you handle the insurance."
The men both huffed before marching away, their forms disappearing into the dark storm. Flora relaxed slightly once those two had left, but she still didn't understand what was going on.
"When they told me they had seen a blonde girl with the box, I had no idea it had been you. If I knew, then we could have easily sorted this yesterday," Mary explained, looking frustrated, but still, she offered Flora a warm smile. "I'm sorry that you had to get involved in all of this. You see, that box you have contains something very valuable. Me and those two goons were hired to find and retrieve it, and we're making a pretty good amount of bob out of it too. Flora, sweetheart, all you need to do is just hand it over to us."
Flora frowned. It all sounded pretty simple. She had wanted rid of that stupid mirror ever since she had seen that horrific reflection that stared back at her. The piece of mirror gave off all sorts of bad feelings and created an atmosphere of crushing paranoia. It would be so easy to just hand it over to Mary, and then Flora could just forget that this whole thing happened. It was no skin off her nose. Whatever they wanted it for was none of her business. After all, it was just a piece of mirror. They claimed it was valuable, so were they planning on selling it? Maybe this really was the stolen item she had heard the earl talking about. There was no way Flora would dob anybody in.
But at the same time… there was a feeling, a sensation, deep within her that prevented her from immediately heading back home and handing it over. Some unknown instinct was stopping her. Her finger throbbed from the memory of the pain she had felt when the jagged edges had sliced her skin. Was it perhaps a weapon? As foolish as the idea seemed, it also weirdly made sense. Flora didn't doubt that it would be easy to kill someone with just a simple slice. But knives could do the job just as well, so why bother?
"Please, Flora," Mary pleaded. "Our boss really needs it. I promise that no harm will come to you."
The dog began growling again, and Flora looked down in alarm. Only the dog wasn't looking at Mary, but into the distant darkness. Had those men returned? Mary also seemed slightly alarmed by the sudden change in the dog's behaviour, and it seemed the woman was getting more and more agitated with each passing second. The two of them were not alone. They could both easily sense it. The tugging sensation in Flora's chest had returned, and the image of the black butler flashed across her mind. Again, it was like steel ropes were pulling her into the direction the dog was barking.
"Flora, we're running out of time," Mary cried out impatiently. "I really don't want to hurt you."
This made Flora panic even more and take an automatic step back. Mary's agitation was rubbing off on her, and Flora gulped as she shivered both from cold and from fear. Blue eyes widened even more, and air became caught in her throat as Mary then pulled out a small handgun from between her large cleavage. She pointed it towards Flora with shaky hands.
"Please, Flora!" Mary begged again. "Just show me where it is, or I'll have to take it by force!"
But Flora remained frozen and confused. Why was Mary doing this? She wouldn't. Would she? Tears streamed down the prostitute's face as she continued pointing the gun towards the young blonde girl. No, this was one of her mother's lifelong friends. She wouldn't hurt Flora for money, would she? Just what exactly was that piece of glass that had people prepared to kill over it? Despite her fear, the turn in events had Flora making up her mind. There was no way she could lead Mary to the piece of mirror. She wasn't sure if she could live with the uncertainty of not knowing what the item was being used for, and Flora did not want to be responsible for anything dangerous or deadly. She would have to wait for the right time to run.
"Flora…" Mary cried. "Katherine… I'm sorry…"
Mary suddenly screamed as the dog's teeth clamped around her arm holding the gun. The weapon went off, the bullet lodging itself into the cemetery fence as Flora's heart lurched in fright. While Mary was distracted, she picked up her skirt and attempted to make a run for it before she ended up slipping on the icy cobbles, grazing her hands and knees in the process. A whimper of pain and fear escaped her, the sound of the gun going off again making Flora instinctively curl into a protective ball.
Upon noticing the dog's barking and growling had ceased, Flora quickly uncurled herself to look at the scene before her in absolute horror. The poor dog had been shot at close range, and its still body lay in a pool of its own blood. Flora could feel bile rising in her throat, and her head began to grow dizzy as everything overwhelmed her. Tears finally burst free from her eyes like the breaking of a great dam, leaving freezing cold streaks against her cheeks.
Mary panted as she stared down at the dog for a few seconds before her panicked eyes met Flora's. The woman still looked torn as she once again pointed the gun to where Flora's vulnerable form lay on the ground where snow was beginning to pile. It glittered as a pure white blanket, hiding the filth underneath from view. The sweet dog's body was quickly being buried, and Flora whimpered again at the sight of her once brave companion.
"I really didn't want to have to do this!" Mary shouted over the increasing roar of the wind. "You should have just co-operated, Flora, but now you leave me with no choice. He'll kill me if he doesn't get what he wants and I have to kill anybody who gets in the way."
Flora curled into a protective ball again, shielding her head and burying her face in her arms as the sound of another gunshot filled the air. After that, there was nothing but silence. Flora's eyes remained squeezed shut. Was this death? But… she could still feel the cold snow surrounding her. Still feel the frigid, icy wind against her skin. It pulled through her two braids, whipping them about in the wind.
"Wha… What?" Flora could just about make out Mary's stunned whisper.
Slowly, Flora peaked out from between her arms to see something large and black standing over her. Her heart nearly gave out in fright as she automatically widened the gap between her arms to get a better look, gasping and choking as the Phantomhive butler stood above, his back facing her, and arms slightly spread as if he had been acting as a human shield.
Flora glanced towards Mary who was frozen in place, her face devoid of all colour as she stared at the butler in horror. Oh god… Had she shot the butler instead? Flora's heart suddenly felt like it was imploding on itself, leaving behind a gaping hole at the thought of both her dog and the butler having sacrificed themselves for her. But as Flora looked back up towards Sebastian, there was no blood in sight, no sign of any injury whatsoever. His posture remained composed and proper, not at all looking like someone who had just been shot.
He finally moved, raising one gloved hand to his mouth before coughing once. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed from his grasp, and both Mary and Flora gasped when he held up the small bullets between his finger and thumb. All Flora could do was stare, completely numb. Was this another dream? How was that even possible?!
"Are you truly such a coward that you would shoot an unarmed young woman?" Sebastian's posh voice soon spoke, sounding as proper and composed as always.
"I… I…" was all Mary could stutter. "How?" Her voice had grown a few octaves higher.
Sebastian tutted. He dropped the bullets down into the snow before his head slowly turned towards Flora, who jerked in fright. His eyes narrowed slightly at this, but otherwise his expression was unreadable. The fire of his eyes was carefully guarded, once again feeling like they were staring into Flora's soul. It kept her locked in place, just like they had done in her dream. The corner of his lip twitched into the hint of a smirk before his teeth snapped together and he glared at Mary with such ferocity that Flora found herself backing up even more.
"Master? What are your orders?"
Flora gasped as Earl Phantomhive stepped out from behind one of the walls of a building. He was dressed in rags, no doubt as some type of disguise to blend in with the area. His default frown remained on his face as his one blue eye assessed both Flora and Mary with cold calculation.
"Take them both in for questioning," the earl finally ordered.
Flora's heart sank.
"Yes, my young lord." Sebastian's eyes seemed to flash as he wasted no time pouncing on Mary. She screamed as he slammed her back into the wall, his hand gripping her neck tightly as he strangled her.
Meanwhile, Flora slowly crawled backwards, terrified of sharing the same fate. All the while, the earl watched on with an emotionless expression, even when Mary's face turned purple, unable to beg for her life as all she could do was claw at the butler's hand. Gone was the gentleman persona. Sebastian looked like nothing more than a savage beast as he seemed to take great pleasure in Mary's suffering, watching in glee as her eyes began to flutter with the threat of unconsciousness.
Flora had seen enough. Without wasting anymore time, she pushed herself up and fled, sprinting as fast as she could into the tight alleyways where she knew that she could easily lose anyone.
"Sebastian! Stop her!" the earl barked.
But Flora didn't even dare look back. Adrenaline had seized control of her body, pushing her to move even faster. There was no sound of pursuit behind her, but Flora didn't doubt that the butler had given chase. She could feel it. It sent tingles down her spine as the steel cords in her chest pulled at her even more painfully. She almost stumbled at the sensation, but she quickly righted herself before reaching up to grab the top of a tall stone wall. She jumped, her fingers wrapping around the rounded top before she used her legs to climb and launch herself over the top. Flora didn't even climb down, opting to jump instead, the mud and snow splattering around her as she landed awkwardly. Her ankles screamed in protest, but she ignored them. She had to keep moving. She needed to get back to John. He was her safety. Her security.
"Little flower, everything is okay," Sebastian's rather playful voice reached her ears, making her shiver. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
That's what Mary had said, Flora thought bitterly as she refused to be ensnared by the butler's soft tone. Instead, she kept running, crossing a make-shift wooden bridge over a bog that was being covered by snow. Her feet kept slipping and sliding, but her fear seemed to allow her to maintain her balance as she focused on fleeing.
A dark chuckled sounded right next to her ear, and Flora whipped around, only to find herself all alone.
"As much as I would love to play with you, my master is in need of your assistance," Sebastian's voice seemed to echo from every direction. All Flora could do was pant and cough as her chest burned. "Besides, this is no place for a delicate flower such as yourself."
Flora was really beginning to curse her mother's choice of name right now. Something about the way he said that nickname reminded her of the purr and growl of a predator, almost like the tiger she had seen caged at the park a few years ago. It filled her with a dread that only a prey being hunted could feel. She just had to keep running. Sebastian was only human, wasn't he? She would lose him at some point. After all, he was not as familiar with these streets as she was.
Flora turned, ready to make another dart for a more narrow passage when she slammed into something. Arms wrapped around her in a steel grip and Flora immediately began to thrash, claw, bite, and kick. Nothing seemed to do her any good, though. A hand stroked her hair and a voice gently shushed her as if trying to calm a frightened kitten.
With now only one arm wrapped around her middle, Flora wiggled one of her arms free before punching in the direction the butler's face would be. Much to her chagrin, he caught her hand before it could meet his face, laughing at her attempts to break free and cause him harm.
"Now, now, my dear, that isn't very polite, is it?" His tone was so patronising that all Flora could do was continue to thrash in anger.
With a sigh, Sebastian released Flora's hand, and she the felt his fingers press against her temple. A sudden feeling of exhaustion swept over her, and any feelings of panic at the sensation was quickly drowned by a rising tide of calmness. The last thing Flora felt was her body slumping against the butler's as her eyes closed against her will, and everything went dark.
Dun dun dun! Thank you so much for reading this chapter, and as always, please feel free to let me know your thoughts and opinions in a review. It all helps! I'm not too sure when my next update will be, but I'm aiming for it to be within the next two weeks or so. Thanks again for all of your amazing support!
If you want to see Flora's real life neighbourhood as it was during the late 1800s, I've uploaded a map onto my blog from Booth's inquiry at the time. Most of the aspects of her neighbourhood (street names etc.) are all historically accurate. See if you can spot Somerford Street, where Flora lives, on the map. My blog is tauruspixie dot blogspot dot com. Stupid FanFiction doesn't let you include links in anything.
Since I'm doing this, I might as well plug my other stuff too, especially since this story has had a sharp increase in popularity. I have a Twitter account, as well as a Tumblr blog, and my work is also available on AO3. I have the same username on all of the sites that I use. Or you can find them via my FanFiction profile.
Stay safe!
Translations:
Peelers – Police
Spangle – Money
Navvys – 'Navigational Engineers'; labourers who built roads, railways and canals.
Florin – A coin worth 2 shillings.
Prices may not be 100% accurate due to research on specific economics being difficult and me suffering from dyscalculia.
