There was blood on the cobblestone around her. The woman knelt down on the ground. In one hand, she held her bag, all of her major supplies as a doctor resting inside. In the other, she held a knife, and a black cloth. The body was at her feet, and she stared down not at her work, at first, but the face of the woman she had killed. Pale skin, almost milky white, but, in the low light of the gas lamps lining the streets, as well as the blood pooling around her, grey. Grey. A faint grey, but grey nonetheless. Like all of the cadavers we dissected in medical school. Yet another place where I had been unwanted. But I got through, no matter what they said. And, now, society respects me. On the surface. But they ridicule me underneath. A widow. Barren. The barren, baroness. That was what some called me until my sister and her husband intervened. But they're gone, now. Ciel is the only one I have left. She made herself to refocus. The woman at her feet could have been her, in another life. Beautiful. Red hair that was almost rosey. Her hands shook, so she dropped her bag, and held onto the knife and cloth. It did not pierce her skin. It could have, but only if she had wanted it to.
"You shouldn't hide your face, nor your hair, Angelina. You have too much to give the world to hide it away."
Her eyes fluttered open and shut rapidly, flicking tears every which way. The clicking of feet came nearby. She did not hesitate, and quickly dragged the body into the alley way. No one would need to know. No one would ever know. In the distance, she saw and heard people. A carriage or two passed by. But no one came close enough to hear, smell, let alone touch. She bowed her head down at her victim again. It was of no remorse, however. Her heart was pounding her chest, and she found herself feeling dizzy. Her hands tightened around the knife again. She began to cut into the victim once again, taking out the one thing she claimed after killing every single one of them. You didn't want your child, so now I take your life, and the worst thing ever taken for me. Footsteps were coming closer again. She took a few steps back, her hands becoming soaked in blood. It would need to be washed off, and as quickly and thoroughly as possible. The footsteps were drawing closer. A flash of red. She all but ran back, but stumbled, and fell over. The knife flew out of her hand, a few feet away. But it did not hit the pavement. A gloved hand caught it, and a graceful figure stood up.
"You're quite skilled. And a doctor despite the immense, horrid pushback you must have received as a woman. But, I have to ask: what is a wealthy woman like you doing here in the middle of the night?"
The figure came into the thin light, and Angelina stared, in slight awe despite herself, when she stood up. With a faint smile, they swung what could only be described as a whirring, spinning saw. The noise from it quickly dissipated as the chain in it came to a halt. Somehow, too, they were beautiful. A long, black coat. Elegant shirt, pants, and vest. Their hair, however, was what captivated her the most. Long hair, much, much longer than her own, but the same dark yet vibrant red. Almost the same colour as blood, but too dark and too sleek. Their eyes were the next thing she noticed. With one hand, they adjusted their thick, red glasses, and their deep, green eyes flashed behind them. With their other hand, they delicately handed the knife back to the doctor. Angelina all but snatched it from them, but could not help herself from staring. Barely able to distract herself, she wiped down the knife, and slipped it and the cloth into her pocket. She almost as quickly, and anxiously, snatched up her bag from the ground.
"I could ask the same of you" Angelina found curiosity overtaking any semblance of fear. "Who are you?"
They smiled, and grandly bowed before taking her hand.
"Grelle Sutcliffe," They winked. "I did not expect someone like you to be the one filling up my death list, let alone in this part of London."
Angelina raised an eyebrow. "Death list? Are you joking?"
"No," Grelle replied, casting a disdainful look at the victim. "Allow me to demonstrate."
Angelina frowned, and crossed her arms. After a few seconds of hesitation, she stepped back to allow Grelle to step forward. Almost too gracefully to be real, they swung their own weapon around before slitting the throat of the nearly dead woman. No blood went flying, nor did any new wounds appear. But something the doctor had not expected began to fly out of the body. Like tiny photographs all side by side, a ribbon of them flew out. Seemingly needing it no more, Grelle all but tossed their weapon over their shoulder once more before pulling out a book and a pen. Angelina took a small step forward to watch the ribbons of images fly past, towards, and into the book, each of them appearing to tell something of a story. As they grew closer to the ends of each ribbon, the faces in the images became all the more recognisable. She quickly pulled on her black gloves to cover her hands so as not to stain herself nor leave any further trace. The images showed the woman as she became the one the doctor recognised, and, to her shock, they came to show herself within the images, too. As if replaying what memories had been in her in the days up to her being killed, Angelina found herself both entranced by and shocked to see everything again, and more.
"I have to thank you quite a lot for this," She had smiled, handing the doctor a small bag with the payment inside. "What a nuisance, pregnancy among our lot."
Angelina had smiled back, but with no sincerity.
"It's my job to help people, as you know."
"You're one of the few doctors we can trust," She had said, stretching out her neck. "Most of 'em men would turn us in. But you? No, you're one of the good ones."
The doctor had watched her closely as she stepped towards the sink to wash off her surgical instruments.
"You could easily be married, by now," She had remarked. "A beautiful woman, thick dark hair and perfect, porcelain skin? Most women would envy you, I suspect."
"In my profession, no one stays around long enough to settle," The woman replied. "We sing, we accept the attention from our wealthy and sometimes noble patrons, and that's that. Doesn't help that I'm Scottish. They all want a lovely English woman, not someone like me. But, again, I thank you greatly, Dr. Durless. I hope I'll be able to rise to being one of the senior divas, soon, and I have that chance because of your aid."
The door had almost silently swung open and shut behind her.
Images continued to fly past and into the book. It was not until they were near the end of the ribbons that Angelina stepped forward, almost too stunned not to watch.
"Relax," She had whispered into the woman's ear, swiftly slitting her throat. "You're dead."
Everything finally ceased, the last few ribbons sliding into the book. Within an instant, they disappeared, seemingly without a trace. How? That's impossible, isn't it? The book absorbed them so quickly, and so effortlessly, that it could not be natural. But, then, it is of the supernatural. Though how would someone possess that kind of power? She looked back at her victim on the ground. Grelle did too, their pale fingers dancing over the pages of the book. Silence. They were completely alone. In the far distance, sounds of life could be heard. Only the din of birds and the gas lamps that lined the streets so few and far between where they were could be heard. It was almost haunting. The two stared at each other curiously, each of them seemingly unsure of what more to say, or what more to do. A sense of dizziness took over the doctor again. Was it the smell of blood? She tried not to dwell on the thought; even after years of being in practice, it made her sick. Even after years of trying to find a way to heal others but especially her sister and nephew, blood was the one thing that made her feel the most ill at ease in her profession. Her eyes and Grelle's met again. Ever so briefly, Grelle hesitated but then smiled, offering her the pen.
"Would you like the honour of inscribing this one?"
Angelina eyed them strangely. "Might I ask what all of this is, first?"
"I hadn't thought of that," Grelle sighed. "I don't suppose you've heard the legends of Grim Reapers, have you?"
'Yes," Angelina replied, sudden understanding dawning on her. "I take it you are one, and have gone out of your way to prove it to me?"
Grelle shrugged. "I am a bit of an actress," She admitted. "But I also happen to have followed you quite closely of late, if I may be honest. As I said, I hadn't expected someone like you to be filling up my death list."
Angelina looked between her, and the body at both of their feet.
"If the legends are correct, you aren't supposed to reveal yourselves to anyone. I take it not to be overly presumptuous to ask why you've chosen to do so with me?"
Grelle nodded, running a hand through her hair.
"I…I've come to understand you. On a…on an intimate level."
Her eyes narrowed. "How so?"
"If I may take a stab," Grelle had smiled a little. "At why you're doing this to your own patients, I'm inclined to believe you're angry with them. I am too."
"Yes, I am angry with them," She bitterly replied. "I'm rather furious with anyone who acts as if being able to bear children isn't the best possible thing they could ever ask for, but I find myself particularly upset when they come to me, and pay me to take that away from them. They choose to kill the chance for a child. And they have no idea how many envy them it."
"I take it then…" Grelle hesitated. "That you are unable to have a child yourself?"
"I was with child, once," Angelina said, blinking back tears, her voice becoming all but inaudible. "But I was in an accident. I lost not only my husband, but our child. And I also lost the chance of ever being able to be with child again."
"So, this is revenge?" Grelle paused when Angelina did not push her away, nor did she object when the reaper gently brushed her tears away. "Taking their life in retribution?"
"It can't be anything else, can it?" Angelina closed her eyes, but allowed Grelle to come a little closer, and embrace her. "I've never been…been able to speak about this before. I hope I am not…" The doctor's voice wavered. "Causing you undue distress."
"They're the ones who have caused that, not me," Grelle quietly replied. "If you need to weep, then weep. But let's get to a safer place if you are to do so. It would do you no good to be caught."
"It would be a nightmare," Angelina said, barely regaining her composure when Grelle let go of her. "What a waste," She said, casting one last look at the body. "She could have been so much more."
"Any of them could have," Grelle said, beginning to walk with her. "I can't say I recall any of their names, though. Too many to count, and none of them have been found nor reported."
"That would be because there are plenty of others who take them away," Angelina said, bitterness harshly returning to her voice. "Whether it be street urchins, or medical students, they get swept up quite quickly. In the medical community, at least, in the whispers, there's supposedly a man called the Undertaker who sweeps in every night to take one of them. Or more, depending on the night. All I know is that none of them are missed, and none of them are found to be reported. I imagine many of them get eaten by birds of prey."
"Undertaker?" Grelle laughed a little. "That's quite the ominous name."
"I imagine that's their intention," Angelina said. "The more ominous they sound, the less likely anyone would be to intervene."
"Perhaps that's why they call us reapers," Grelle said with a faint smirk. "To sound more ominous than we may actually be. I must say, I don't think I'm particularly intimidating."
"I imagine you could be," Angelina shook her head. "Anyone can be. It is all a matter of circumstance."
"Yes," Grelle agreed, taking out her book and pen again. "Where are we going? I would rather like to continue our discussion."
Angelina sighed. "It's not far," She said shortly. "There is a hidden entrance into my home. If you would be willing to accompany me. I suspect you have a great deal of work to do, and, curious as I may be, I know better than to get in the way of another's work."
"There are plenty of other reapers in London," Grelle countered. "And, I must admit, I am quite curious about you too. Though, as I have been curious about you for long enough, now, I have to concede most of the question pressing to you."
Angelina managed a small smile. "I appreciate it a great deal. That said, what did you mean when you said you understand me?"
"Simply that," Grelle said, her voice falling unusually quiet. "With you just about having shown and explained your reasons to me, as well, I must say that I empathise with you completely. I…I cannot bear children either. And that is something I so dearly wish I could do."
Angelina turned to her, and, surprising herself, reached out and took Grelle's hand.
"It is a curse," She said, pausing upon hearing the close falling of footsteps. They dissipated almost as quickly as they had arrived. "A curse which leaves only sorrow, anger, and bitterness."
"It truly does," Grelle paused in surprise when they lingered under a street light. "You…"
"Yes?" Angelina stared at the reaper, again taken aback by her. She's even more beautiful in the light. Red…it suits her well, in a way that it will never suit me. "Is something wrong?"
"No, of course not," Grelle quickly said, regaining pace again. "I simply didn't expect you to be as…as lovely as you are."
Angelina shook her head. "I am not," She said, pushing her bag further up to her shoulder as she scrambled for her keys in her pocket. "But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless."
About to say something, Grelle instead fell silent when she finally found her keys and opened the door. Without even a second of hesitation, she followed her inside. Waited while Angelina shut and locked the door behind them. Down the faintly lit passageway, it was no more than a minute or two before they found stairs. Angelina waved her to follow after, and, soon enough, they stepped into a perfectly kept, and opulent home. I was right to assume she's wealthy. What must her husband have been to leave her with such a comfortable life? And then…she must have no need to work, but does so regardless. Killer or not, she seems mostly possessed of a desire to help people. How can one person be such an enigma, such a contradiction? Just about in a trance, Grelle walked only a little behind Angelina into the drawing room upon ensuring the hidden entrance was closed. A door behind bookshelves, too. She's clever. I like that. I like her a great deal more with every second. Sensing the desire for even further privacy, Grelle quietly closed the doors to the drawing room behind them, and waited there while Angelina took off her gloves and coat.
"You don't have to stand there like a servant," Angelina told her. "Come here. We're going to talk, now aren't we?"
"We are," Grelle all but frantically dropped her death scythe, pulling out her book and pen again. "I need to add that woman to the death list, quickly, though. Oh! That was what I was offering you the chance to do."
Angelina raised an eyebrow when Grelle sat down beside her, holding the book and pen out to her again.
"And how do I do that?" She said, taking the two objects from her. Quite the unusual pen. I wonder where she came across it. I've never held or used anything like this before…. "I assume there's a -"
"I imagine it's much like filling out an autopsy report," Grelle explained, sounding almost embarrassed. "As I assume you did in medical school."
Angelina eyed her closely. "So, name, date of death, and manner of death?"
"Just about," Grelle replied. "Name, cause of death, and, in this case, killer as the manner of death."
"Alright, then," Angelina shifted the pen in her hands. "That is rather simple."
Madison O'Connor.
Death from bloodloss.
Murdered by Baroness Dr. Angelina Durless.
The paper absorbed the words almost as instantly as the ribbons, and Angelina nearly dropped both the book and the pen.
"Don't worry," Grelle said, catching them both. "I was rather startled by it my first time, too."
"I can only imagine," Angelina said, reaching for the reaper's hands when she had set down the book and the pen. "I am about to do something I never imagined I would to someone I have barely met."
Grelle nodded. "And -"
No other words spoken, the baroness suddenly reached over and kissed her. In disbelief, it felt almost to be ages before she kissed her back, but the temptation was too real. It was all too real.
"I apologise if that were too forward," Angelina finally said once they both hesitantly pulled away. "I suspect I am rather overcome by emotion at the moment."
"As I said earlier, I am here for you," Grelle said softly, extending her arms for the baroness to embrace her. WIthin seconds, she was curled up in her arms beside her. "And, if you need to weep….then weep. I won't leave. Not unless you ask me to."
"Then don't leave me," Angelina whispered, almost shocked by her comfort in the reaper's embrace. "I need someone who understands."
"I do," Grelle said, combing her fingers through Angelina's hair. "And, should you want it, I would be happy to help you."