Chapter Twenty Three: A Stalker in the Night
However, my joyous mood abruptly changed when I took a good look at my surroundings for the first time since leaving the bar. We were no longer heading toward the main thoroughfare but we were walking in a part of the city where buildings were abandoned and the few residences that were occupied were swiftly falling into disrepair. We were walking in mostly shadows, and the few gas lamps that we did pass, did little to pierce the ever deepening gloom.
"Hey Holmes?"
"Yes?"
"Where the hell are we?" I asked attempting to suppress a shudder. I could not shake the feeling that we were being watched by a malign force.
"We should be in a familiar area soon enough," he said, but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed his air of confidence.
"Holmes, I don't like this place."
"Neither do I," he admitted.
"Then why did you bring us here?"
Before he could answer, he stopped walking and I felt his body stiffen. Each muscle and nerve felt like it was strained to the breaking point.
"Holmes…"
He clasped a hand over my mouth to cease any sound. I looked up and saw his face in the thin, irregular glow of one of the lamps. His eyes were narrowed and blazed with some inside fire, his jaw was set firm and his entire countenance had look of a vulnerable animal of prey listening for any sounds of a nearby predator. He was listening, but for what?
I held my breath and strained my ears but could hear nothing but the lapping of the Seine River against its banks and the very faint sound of a clock chiming the hour. The air itself was eerily calm and still, the wind ceased suddenly as if it too had the premonition of some danger close and threatening.
"Holmes what is it?" I whispered against his palm.
He pressed harder against my mouth, signaling for me to shut-up. His body, if possible, grew even tenser and he held me closer to him.
Once again I strained my ears and after a few seconds I heard what his acutely turned senses had picked-up. There was a scrape of gravel against the cobblestone. A mild oath. Then silence…no, the silence was permeated by the softest footsteps I've ever heard. I've heard many footsteps at all hours, especially living on the third floor of my Manhattan apartment complex, but none ever filled me with such a sense of dread and fear. If these footsteps were able to invoke fear within me, I could not even imagine what the sight of the person who made them would do.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the taught body of Sherlock Holmes. He was my rock, my sense of safety. If anything were to happen, he could protect me. Or could he? What if this presence is more powerful then he?
I pushed those thoughts from my mind and searched for something which would give me a sense of peace. Suddenly, I fell back onto my Catholic teachings, the very teachings that I dismissed as fancy several years prior. Knowing what I hypocrite I was, I began to mutter The Lord's Prayer underneath my breath, hoping that He would give me enough strength to fight this evil presence if it would ever make itself known to us.
"Quickly," Holmes's voice was so soft against my ear that it was a challenge to make out his words. "Follow me and do not make a sound, our very lives may depend on our silence."
I nodded to show that I had heard his warning and I allowed him to lead me into a dark alleyway. His tense muscles did little to alleviate the sense of fear that was so strong in me. He very gently pushed me deeper into the shadows, making sure my back was against the hard surface of the building.
He squeezed my shoulder and once again his lips were at my ear. "Do no move from this spot until I return. Do you understand?"
Did I hear him right? He was going to leave me here! Here, alone in the darkness with an
unknown presence out there? Was he nuts?
I gripped his hand with as much strength as I had, attempting to convey to him my fear of being left alone.
"You'll be all right," he whispered, disengaging himself from my grasp. "I won't be gone long, I promise."
Before I could protest, Sherlock Holmes was gone and I was left alone in the cold, dark alley. Fear clawed at my soul, causing me to tremble. I allowed myself to sink to the grimy ground and buried my head between my knees. I began muttering the 'Hail Mary' over and over like an extremist who is in the throws of some divine agony by his god.
"Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee--"
"Praying to an unseen deity? Not what I would expect from an associate of the great scientific detective."
I gasped in fear when I heard the voice. It was the same voice I heard in the opera house, the very voice which had warned me never to cross its path. I closed my eyes and began to pray harder.
"Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus--"
"Yes, continue to pray, I find it amusing."
"Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for our sinners--"
"It is interesting how many Christians pray when they meet me. I must confess I've heard that very prayer said numerous times."
"Now and at the hour of our death--"
"Amen," the voice said and at the same time, I felt my head being jerked upward so hard I swore for a second that my neck was broken. I kept my eyes clamped shut, not wanting to see the person who was standing in front of me. I was about to reply, when I felt something as cold as ice grab my throat. Then much to my surprise and fear, I was lifted from my position on the ground and pinned painfully against the wall of the building, my feet suspended in air, no longer touching the earth underneath.
I was now staring directly into the amber orbs. The coldness of the appendage that grabbed my throat filled my body and I was, for unknown reasons, I was suddenly fighting the urge to vomit.
"Do not fear little one," the voice cooed mockingly. "I will not kill you. I have no reason to spill your blood."
Gee, aint that a nice sentiment. Thanks a million buddy, lemme buy you a drink.
"I want to give you a warning, Innocent," the musical voice said. "It is similar to the warning I gave you beneath the opera house. You and your friend must stay away from my affairs or prepare to be trodden underfoot. Is that clear Innocent?"
My throat was constricted with terror and I could not speak.
Suddenly another cold appendage caressed my cheek, and the urge to vomit grew inside my stomach. Despite the coldness, I felt fingers tracing my lips and cheekbones and realized it was a hand that was petting me. Fear twisted my insides as I felt the cold hand touching various parts of my body. I had heard about situations like the one I found myself in on the evening news. I had no doubt that this man was going to rape and then murder me.
"Please," I whispered. "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me."
The man laughed and continued to touch me. "What is the matter Innocent? Do I scare you?" The hand against my throat tightened and the other hand scratched my right cheek hard enough to draw blood.
"Yuh-yes."
"Yes what Innocent?"
"Yuh-yuh-you frighten me."
Another laugh. The man's hands began to go below my waist. "You haven't answered my first question yet Innocent."
Oh God! He is going to rape me! His hand is getting lower and lower! God no, please no!
"Wuh-what question?"
"Do I make my position clear?"
"Yuh-you make yourself very clear."
I almost felt the 'man' before me smile. "Very good answer Innocent. I hope we do not have another meeting like this again."
Then, before I realized it, he let go of me, disappeared into the darkness, and I dropped to the ground quite unceremoniously. Fear held me prisoner and I drew my knees up to my chin and began to cry. I rocked myself back and forth like a frightened child, in effort to ease my nerves.
"Mackenzie! Mackenzie where are you?"
The sound of a voice startled me so much that I cried out. I heard footsteps rushing toward me and I pressed myself against the wall, trying to make myself as small as possible. I clamped my eyes shut and continued to rock. Several whimpers of fear escaped my throat.
"Mackenzie, what is the matter?"
I felt a hand touch my shoulder and I started. Then the smell of sandalwood aftershave and shag tobacco entered my nostrils and I knew I was safe. Holmes returned! Before I could stop myself I threw myself on him and hugged him tightly, burying my face in the fabric of his shirt. "Thank God you're back," I said into the material. "Thank God you're back."
He tensed under my embrace, but I was too frightened to care. I stayed, my arms around his neck for several minutes, until my tremors of fear ceased. My rock had returned, I was safe.
"Mackenzie, what is the matter?"
I shook my head and let go of the detective, sensing his discomfort. "Let's just get out of here, please."
He helped me to my feet. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be led out of the alleyway. I felt his eyes on me, but refused to open mine until I heard the now familiar clip-clop of horse hooves against the cobblestone. I heard the detective shout for a cab and he helped me get into it. Once we were both seated and the cab began to move did I open my eyes.
"We're going to the hotel?"
The detective nodded and looked at me with something akin to concern his grey eyes. "What happened while I was gone?"
I shuddered as I felt an imaginary hand clutch my throat. How was I going to explain that moment of intense fear to him? How could I make him understand the danger, the pure evil that radiated from that being? It was not going to be an easy task.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and then I plunged headlong into my short narrative about the events that transpired after he left. He listened with rapt attention; his eyes had the far-away look in them that Watson had described many times when he was listening to the narrative of a client. He was completely attentive, listening to each word which exited my mouth. When I finished he was completely silent.
"You are not hurt?" He asked, breaking the mutual silence.
I shook my head, causing a shock of blond hair to fall into my face. "No, just a little shaken up, that's all."
He nodded, as though confirming my feelings. "Yes, well I would imagine you would be." He then turned his head and looked out the window. When he spoke his voice was hardly above a whisper. "I had some scruples taking you along with me on that damned reckless venture. I knew we were being followed and I was attempting to lure our pursuer out in the open where I could confront him. I failed horribly."
Yeah you're right buddy, you defiantly failed. You failed enough to let your logic leave you and then in turn you left me alone, in a dark alleyway. Real nice of you, real smooth.
I forced the little voice of doubt out of my mind. Holmes only did what he thought was best at the time. He followed his deductive reasoning; he couldn't be blamed for that.
"No Holmes, you didn't fail. You just did what you thought was best," I said forcing a smile. "I wonder who that 'person' was."
"The Phantom of the Opera, no doubt," the detective said matter-of-factly.
"Oh really?" I couldn't hide the skeptism in my voice. "And how, pray tell, do you know that?"
"You told me," he replied.
"I said no such thing Holmes."
He smiled wearily. "You told me he said he gave you a similar warning in the cellars of the opera house, did you not?"
I nodded, unable to see the connection.
"Well I used a bit of logic and simply deduced his identity. Honestly Mackenzie, you disappoint me. You should have been able to see the connection as soon as I told you who it was."
I groaned and said nothing, just listened to the clip-clop of the horse hooves.
