Chapter 5

As well meaning as he was, Jareth was just hot tempered enough to go out there looking for Edward Hyde. There was no doubt that Edward would make short work of him and all too easily. So, her night at the docks became a wrong turn taken and the wrong person talked to. Luckily, a policeman had been in the area and had called a carriage to take her home after he had questioned her.

Jareth seemed to accept the story, but he was even more adamant about her safety now. He insisted he accompany her home at night when she was well enough to go out and he would even accompany her to the flower district in the mornings, even if it meant he would have to delay his paper route by an hour. She felt trapped; she couldn't refuse his offer without giving some sort of reason why. To do that would be to tell him the truth and put them both in danger. So, she grudgingly agreed.

Jareth seemed satisfied with her answer. Lilly had said that a doctor wasn't necessary, so he took it upon himself to look after her as best he could. He promised he would come in the evenings after he had finished with his newspapers.

For two days, he brought her news from the outside. More murders, more board members from St. Jude's Hospital, and strangely vile things turning up in London's darkest alleys. She sat through it all, trying not to let her horror show through, but it was difficult; especially when he showed her the photographs.

One night, she claimed that she was very tired and had a headache, so he left her to rest. When he had finally gone, she lay in bed listening, as she had for the past two nights, to every sound and jumping when one seemed to be a bit too loud for her taste. Without Jareth's constant prattling to distract her, Edward Hyde's words ran over and over again in her mind. I'm fire, pure fire. It seemed like a confession, but it wasn't just fire. It was as though he was pure evil. It had to end, all of it, she had known it that night at the docks, but she didn't know how. He seemed to know where she was all the time. What if he found out where she lived? What if he knew already?

She looked quickly at the window, half expecting to see his faced pressed against the glass looking at her. But there was only darkness.

Lilly settled back against her mattress once more, but by no means relieved. She couldn't go on like this and she couldn't stay hiding forever. She had to work; she needed to survive. She pictured herself all day making her rounds and looking around her constantly like a scared rabbit.

As she lay looking up at her ceiling, her eyelids became heavy and sleep seemed to be coming despite all that had transpired. Before letting herself succumb to it, she decided that tomorrow she would try and go out with Jareth as her escort. She didn't like the idea of being followed, even if it was for her protection, but the alternative was far worse.

When she finally did drift off, it was not a peaceful rest. All through the night, the image of Edward Hyde and his half-mangled face followed her, stalking her even in sleep.

A rapping woke her from her fitful sleep. She lay there for a moment, eyes open, thinking she might have dreamt it, when again there came the sound of someone throwing things at her window.

It was still night. Half asleep, she wrapped a blanket around herself, padded on cold feet to the window, and peered down into the darkness. She could barely make out a figure, dressed in black, arm cocked back as if to making to throw something else.

She opened the shutter and let the cold night air sweep in. The late night sounds of London floated up to her as she stuck her head out the window.

"Who's there?" she said in a loud whisper.

The figure let his arm fall to his side and raised his head to look at her. In the darkness, Lilly could tell that most of his face was covered. A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach - what had she done opening the window and looking out? She began to panic, "Who's there, what do you want?" she asked quickly. She had to find a way to get out of there.

"How much?" came a voice from below.

Lilly paused. A sense of relief washed over, as she heard that the voice did not belong to Edward Hyde. She stuck her head further out and squinted at the figure in black below her on the street.

"What did you say?"

"How much?" he said again. It was most definitely not Hyde, the voice was much too soft and warm; but it was tired too, Lilly noticed. His words confused her. How much for what? Was he lost? What kind of house did he think this was?

"What are you talking about? How much for what? What kind of place do you think this is?" she hissed loudly. She didn't want to raise her voice too loudly and chance waking someone. How would this scene look?

"For your flowers" the man replied.

"Oh…" said Lilly, blushing with embarrassment. She whispered down, "Hang on, what do you want with flowers at this late hour and how do you know that I even sell them?"

"Please, just let me buy some from you." His voice cracked slightly, sounding ill, and looked like he would collapse at any moment. He swayed backwards and looked as though he might fall headfirst down the stone steps.

"Hold on a moment. I'll be right down!" she called. She closed the window and rushed to put on the long black coat and some shoes. That poor man was probably ill with fever; he should be taken to a hospital.

She made it downstairs and opened the door. The man stood there, frail and coughing in the heavy air. She rushed to him and tried to support his weight on her small shoulders. He sank to the ground and leaned against the stone stoop of the building.

"Sir, you're sick have to be taken to a hospital." she said frantically. He tried to brush her off, but he was too weak. "I just wanted to buy some flowers from you." She tried to ignore his strange request and felt his forehead for fever. He was ice cold, yet his body seemed soaked with sweat.

"Please sir, let me help you inside." She made to lift him, but he was too heavy. He removed his hat and before he could stop her, removed the scarf which had hidden his face from sight. He was young, a man in his early thirties, blonde and blue eyed, face flushed as he panted on the stoop. He was very handsome. She couldn't help but stare at his features and wonder what on earth he was doing there. Most likely, he was delusional; perhaps it was merely a coincidence that he had asked her for flowers. He was sick. But then, why had he chosen her exact window?

"Sir, please tell me how I can help you? What's your name? Is there someone I should call for? A wife? Anything?"

"No, don't. It's too late." He leaned his head back and continued his labored breathing. She held him awkwardly in her arms, his weight pressed heavily against her and soon her muscles were crying out from strain; but still, she held on.

"I'm so sorry." he said, looking up at her. His eyes held such sadness.

"It's no trouble, sir. I just wish you would tell me how to help you."

"Let me make things right. How much for flowers?"

"They're two-pence a bunch." she said, close to tears herself. "But, I haven't got any on me."

"That's far too little, here." he said, reaching to his belt. "Take this, take all of this."

"But, sir, I can't take this."

"Please, take it. It would mean so much to me if you would just accept it." He was growing agitated.

Reluctantly, Lilly took the purse and put it in the coat pocket. As she tucked it away, her hand brushed against something hard and dry. She pulled out a faded flower, half dead, most of the color already gone. She held it up to his face and silently offered it in return for the money. He clasped the dead flower in his hand and closed his eyes; a look of peace spread over his face and he sighed with relief.

"Thank you." he said in a ragged whisper. "Now you can be free."

His peace did not last long. Suddenly, he sat straight up in her arms. She felt his heart pounding beneath his shirt and his muscles tensed and relaxed against her. He seemed to be choking; she tried hitting him on the back to loosen whatever was making him cough, but he stood up. He looked terrible; his handsome face was contorted in pain and sweat ran down his forehead. He yanked violently at his shirt collar and exposed his bare chest to the cold air.

Frightened Lilly backed towards the door. He tore at his hair and strangled screams started to come from within him, low and guttural. He looked at her. His face was no longer the handsome young man she had just seen; veins stood out across his forehead and blood trickled from his temples where he had dug into the flesh with his fingernails. His teeth seemed longer somehow and his hair was darker. Across his left cheek, bluish patches like bruises began to spring up as if from no where. What was happening?

"Go inside." he said in a voice that seemed to be his and not his at the same time.

She stood up, her back pressed against the door, hands fumbling for the latch, too afraid to take her eyes off the sight.

"I can't hold him off, go inside now!" he shouted. He doubled over again and clutched at his stomach.

A light came on in the window next to the door, the landlord. "Who's out there? What's going on?"

"GO!" the young man yelled again. He took off running into the night, his body still spasming in pain, his shouts echoing off the buildings. More lights came on in other houses and windows began to open with people looking out to see what had woken them up at such an ungodly hour.

Lilly turned and bolted inside before anyone could see her. She raced upstairs to her bedroom and locked it behind her. She flung off the heavy coat and opened her own window and looked out. She looked for as far as she could, but there was no sign of the young man any longer. He had vanished.