Chapter 2

The next day Lilly stood in a well-lit and busy street corner with a new basket of flowers in her small hand. She had recovered better than she had expected from the previous night, but was taking no chances. This street was familiar and not altogether too far from her home. She felt safe among the crowds of people and kept a careful ear out for the chiming of the church bells lest she be caught on the street at some late hour again.

"Two-pence a bunch - lovely flowers!" She sang out to the gentlemen and ladies that passed her by. She had had better luck tonight than the previous night, but her basket was still fuller than she would've liked. It was also incredibly cold and people weren't as keen to stop on the street when they could go into a warm building. As she shivered on the corner watching people pass, she envied their scarves and muffs and she wished for a warmer coat.

This wasn't working, she thought to herself. Maybe if she tried a different corner she'd have more luck. Someplace near a café perhaps, where she could attract people on their way in to get something warm. It was worth a try.

She joined the stream of the passing crowd towards a different street and paused at the curb to let a passing carriage by. But, it wasn't just one carriage; it was a whole line of them making their way up the street - a funeral procession. Lilly gasped and quickly made the sign of the cross as she watched the somber parade pass by. Others next to her on the street were doing the same. As Lilly stood waiting on the curb for them to pass, she wondered who had died. It was obviously someone of importance to be surrounded by such a grand procession. She wondered with a slight twinge of discomfort if it had been the person last night whom she had heard screaming. To avoid thinking anymore about that, she glanced around at the people huddled around her also watching the funeral go slowly by. The men had taken off their hats in respect for the dead, but as she looked next to her on her left, she saw one person who hadn't removed his. As she looked more closely, her mouth went dry and her heart began to race.

Mere inches away from her stood the man she'd encountered the night before. There was no mistaking him. He was almost right next to her, watching the funeral with a look that seemed disturbingly like pride. Her first instinct was to run, but she couldn't help but stare at him. He had the same dark piercing eyes she'd seen the night before; it was what she had recognized first. His face was oddly striking, like that of a well-chiseled statue, only very much alive. Could she be looking, this very moment, at a murderer surveying his handiwork? The thought made her sick to her stomach and she knew she had to get away. It didn't seem as though he had seen her. Maybe, if she could slip away, he'd never know she'd been there. Lilly inched away, keeping her eyes forward so as not to attract any attention. She stopped in mid-step; something was holding her back. She looked down to see a gloved hand encircling her small wrist. Lilly gasped when she saw who the glove belonged to. Although he hadn't seemed to have moved at all, he had managed to catch her.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you." He said.

"Let me go. I'll scream, I swear." she whispered in fear.

He smiled cruelly and looked at her head on, "Then why are you whispering?"

Lilly looked into his eyes and couldn't utter a sound. She was frozen to the spot and unable to fight back.

"I didn't think so." he replied triumphantly.

The last of the carriages finally passed by; the crowd began crossing the street. Lilly felt him put something in her hand before releasing her; the next moment, she was swept away in the sea of moving bodies. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to keep her eyes on him for as long as possible; but, he soon disappeared. She stood staring back across the street - how could he have disappeared so quickly? She opened her palm and saw another one pound coin shining up at her.

"Move your arse baggage!" someone yelled at her. Startled, she tucked the coin in her pocket and moved out of the way of a rather irate gentleman and apologized softly.

Apart now from the crowd, she turned her gaze back across the street to where he had been standing. What were the chances she would find herself face to face with him again? Was he following her? The thought frightened her to the core. Should she go to the police and tell them she had seen the murderer? Would they believe her? But, what could she say? All she had was a description and not a very good one at that. Besides, she couldn't even be sure that he was the murderer; still, the look on his face as he had watched that funeral…it chilled her that he had been so close to her the whole time. Even more terrifying was the thought of what he might do to her if he found out she had gone to the police. He didn't seem to want to hurt her, but that could all change very quickly if she ran her mouth to Scotland Yard.

There she was in a busy street with hundreds of other people and yet she had never felt more alone; and less safe.

Later on that evening, she had had enough. She glanced behind her for the seventh time. Every time she looked back, she expected to see the strange gentleman following her. The night had grown brisk and the combination of fear and the biting cold was enough to send her running home, unsold flowers or no.

At least the night was clear and the moon was bright enough to light the dark streets, but she still didn't feel any safer. The memory of the encounter still burned fresh in her mind. To make matters worse, in her haste, she had taken a wrong turn and was only now starting on the right path home. As she doubled back towards the right street she thought she heard voices coming from up ahead. She slowed her pace as a crowd came into view; something was wrong. Their voices got louder as she came slowly closer and she began to hear snatches conversation like: "Horrible!" "Who would do such a thing?" "...clubbed to death..." and, "...cold blooded murder..."

The crime scene came more clearly into view and Lilly stopped dead in her tracks, covering her mouth as she gagged. There was a body lying on the pavement and amidst the crowd of people, she saw a trail of blood. Trail wasn't even the word for it; it was a river of blood. Lilly felt nauseous as she leaned against a building. She closed her eyes and inhaled the cool night air, desperately fighting the urge to be sick. She had never seen a dead body before, let alone one killed so gruesomely. The words "clubbed to death" rang in her ears and with it the image of a cane with a large brass handle. Was this his doing? Had he been on his way to commit this murder when she had run into him on the street?

Guilt suddenly began to fill her. If she had gone to the police earlier, they might have been able to do something. A man was dead and it was her fault. She looked down the street and saw that police were already assembled trying to calm the crowd and keep them back from the evidence. One was questioning people it seemed, asking if they'd seen anything suspicious. Lilly stepped away from the wall; her stomach began to churn at the thought of coming closer to the grisly scene, but she had to do something. She had to tell the police what she had seen earlier. It might be too late for this poor victim, but maybe not for someone else.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" she heard. Her eyes traveled to an alley next to her and peered through the darkness. A figure leaned against a wall just inside the alley looking at her. "It's you!" she said loudly. A hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged into the dark passage. She struggled and kicked as hard as she could, but he was too powerful; it was useless, still she screamed behind the strength of the hand that covered her mouth.

He had her up against him so tightly she could barely breathe as the pressure of his arms crushed against her stomach and ribs. He lowered his head to her ear and whispered calmly. The warmth of his breath caused her to stop moving. "I'll let you go but you have to promise not to yell or run, promise?" He gave her neck a little jerk to show he was serious. Lilly nodded and he let go. Air returned to her lungs and she gasped rapidly. She shuffled to the other alley wall across from him, too frightened to run but wanting to keep as much distance as possible.

"Why are you following me?" she asked him finally.

"I believe I was here first. And, well, I guess your unschooled mind is too narrow to grasp the concept of coincidence." He began to move closer to her. There was no where to go; he had her cornered. "But now that I think about it, it wouldn't be so bad to run into you more often."

"Stay away. I mean it." she said angrily. In reality, her knees were trembling and threatened to give out beneath her. He just laughed. "Why? Am I that terrible to look at?" He brought his dark face down to hers, but she shut her eyes and refused to look at him. "Am I?" he asked more forcefully grabbing her face. His fingers dug into the bones of her cheeks and Lilly opened her eyes. "No, you're not! Let go of my face. You're hurting me!" She started to struggle under his body and managed to free her face, but his hand suddenly came down and slapped her square on the cheek. She stopped struggling, dazed and surprised. She had never been slapped before.

There was silence between them for a long moment, her eyes locked with his. She stared back at him intensely, refusing to be the one that looked away first. The hate in her stare was enormous.

Finally, he stepped slowly away from her, freeing her from under his weight. "Leave then. Go on, leave if you can." he said. Lilly took a few tentative steps away towards the alley entrance, then stopped in her tracks and looked back. What was wrong with her? Why didn't she just run?

He seemed to notice her hesitation, almost like he had expected it. "What's your name, girl?" he demanded.

"Why do you care?" She was surprised by her own tone and swallowed nervously. She had to tread carefully; he could still turn on her at any moment.

"It's called an introduction. I trust you've heard of that at least?"

She paused, thinking quickly and weighed the options; if it would get her out of this unscathed …

"Lilly." she replied simply. No need to tell him her last name. She waited tensely for his response.

"Lilly, a perfectly common name; it pains me to hear it. I am very sorry for you."

Lilly was at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to inquire what was so offensive about her name and the more rational part told her to keep her mouth shut, lest he change his mind about letting her go. So, she stood with fists clenched, the opening of the alley a mere couple of feet behind her. She didn't dare move, but he seemed to have become bored and was soon walking past her into the night. As he passed her, his scent drifted past her nose and lingered in the air. She turned and saw his dark silhouette against the opening of light that lead out in the street. He almost didn't look real. Unclasping his overcoat he shrugged it off then tossed it to her. She was caught off guard but managed to catch it, though just barely. She just looked at him with confusion written on her face.

"You're shivering." he said simply. He said nothing more, gave no more explanation that that. He just turned and started heading out of the alley.

"Wait!" Lilly called in spite of her better judgment. He stopped and turned.

"Who are you?" she asked boldly.

"Edward Hyde." he said with a note of pride in his voice. He gave a slight nod but didn't tarry any further. He made his exit quickly; though she ran out of the alley not long after him, she saw that, once again, he was nowhere to be seen.

She could still see the crowd a short distance away; more police had been called in to start investigating the area. She could still go and give them her report, and now she could even give them a name and what direction he had gone off in. Lilly looked down at the coat she clutched in her hands then back towards the police and the murder victim on the pavement. Slowly, she slipped the coat over her shoulders and started to walk in the opposite direction, towards home.