Nineteen was too old for proper teenage rebellion, but Molly had always been a little behind in her social development. Molly was aware that she wasn't even much of a rebel. A few cigarettes a week and the occasional drunken Friday night out chasing boys might be shocking if she was fourteen, but as a university student, she was positively tame. Still, it was all quite thrilling to her. Molly's childhood had been sheltered by her widower father. His grief and worry had overshadowed Molly's whole young life. Molly knew at a young age that he depended on her, needed her to keep going. Anyway, she never really was one for temper tantrums and sulks.
School was the other focus of her girlhood. She was naturally very curious and loved learning. From the age of five, Molly was determined to become a doctor. She knew it had been her father's dream to become a doctor. He had settled for working as an administrator, for vague reasons he never would explain to her. So Molly's teenage years had been spent studying and being a Very Good Girl. Her teachers praised her for her hard work. Elderly members of her church were fond of telling her what a help she was to her father. And all the local children were downright infuriated when their parents sighed "why can't you be more like that sweet Molly Hooper?" Molly was held up as an example of childhood perfection to adults everywhere. She had few friends and had never been on a date. And until she left home for university, she had believed herself to be quite content with her life.
University was a thrilling new experience. Molly was terribly shy and had at first panicked about ever feeling comfortable there. She had briefly thought about dropping out and running home to her father in the first few weeks. Fortunately, she found a friend named Rebecca in her Chemistry class. Rebecca was loud and funny and everything Molly wasn't. She was also terrible at anything remotely related to the sciences. Rebecca had grand plans of becoming a famous writer, actress or possibly exotic dancer. She had miserable study habits and confessed to Molly that she'd lost her virginity at age 15 with a lapsed priest. Molly was dazzled by her new friend, she was so much more alive and fun that Molly ever dreamed of being. Molly had offered to help her study after hearing Rebecca moan and wail after failing the first test. Rebecca thanked her profusely and they actually had fun studying. Soon they hung out for more than just study sessions. It was baffling, but Rebecca seemed to truly like Molly. Rebecca was charmed by how sweet and naïve Molly was. She was also determined to help Molly have fun and make up for lost time. So began the great, delayed onset teenage rebellion of Molly Hooper.
Rebecca's first field of attack was Molly's incredibly dowdy wardrobe. Left to her own devices, Molly chose the sort of clothes little girls would wear. "Actually, Molly, I know quite a few little girls who wouldn't be caught dead in this" crowed Rebecca as she dug through Molly's clothing. "Way too much pink, what's with the kittens on this shirt, and oh my god, are all your bras white?"
"What's wrong with white bras?" Molly asked. She had only ever been bra shopping with her father, an experience both of them dreaded. She tended to grab the first thing the elderly ladies in the stores recommended.
Rebecca rolled her eyes in such an exaggerated way that Molly wondered if they would pop out. "Oh lord, Molly, the boys don't want to be reminded of their grannies when they get your top off!" she huffed.
A furious blush spread completely across Molly's face. She started to stutter, "B-boys! Getting my top off! I, um … no, just no."
"Molly, please tell me you've been with a boy…. Please tell me that you're not that hopelessly innocent!" shrieked Rebecca.
Molly turned pinker still and turned away from her friend. "Um, I never have, umm, been on a date or anything, I mean, they never asked…."
"That's it. Get up. Yes, right now, we're going to my room. You will wear my clothes and people will actually be able to see some skin, and you are going to touch a boy and no more of this fluffy kitten shit!" With this pronouncement, Rebecca took Molly firmly by the hand and led her out of her room, completely ignoring her feeble protests.
Rebecca's clothing was strewn all about her room. Lacy and rather racy knickers and bras were draped across the mirror. Bottles of make-up and assorted hair products rolled across the floor as Rebecca dashed from side to side of the room. Molly stood stock still, like a terrified prisoner, about to be executed. She watched warily as Rebecca threw increasingly tiny articles of clothing at her. Rebecca fussed about, changing this and that, till finally she was satisfied. Then she began the assault on Molly's face and hair. Wands of mascara fluttered much too close to Molly's eyes. Alarming amounts of hair spray, enough to put a hole in the ozone layer, were sprayed. Tubes of lipstick were studied and discarded till the perfect shade was found. "Ta-Da! Now this is what us sexy bitches wear! Don't move, I gotta call a couple of people, there's bound to be a party somewhere!" shouted a triumphant Rebecca.
Molly, for her part, wasn't sure if she was mortified or thrilled. She looked…sexy. Her father would keel over dead of shock if he saw her, of that Molly was certain. She went out with Rebecca that evening, drank a bit too much and was surprised to find herself kissing a football player from another university. Rebecca found her and the mid-fielder snogging in a stairwell and dragged her home at 3:30 in the morning. After that evening, Molly borrowed more of Rebecca's clothes. She had never felt so desirable and alive. She stayed out late, drinking till she found enough courage. She went on dates, mostly boys Rebecca had already rejected. Molly began to feel quite daring. She started to venture out more on her own, determined to prove that she was just as sexy and vibrant as her friend.
On one particular sunny Saturday afternoon, Molly was relaxing along the Embankment by the Thames, smoking a cigarette and wearing a low cut tank top that Rebecca insisted she try on. She leaned back, blowing smoke and surreptitiously looking out the sides of her sunglasses to see if anyone else noticed her. Molly knew her father would be horrified if he could see her now. She still wasn't completely sure if she liked that or not. She did enjoy watching the other people walking along the Embankment. Hiding behind her big black sunglasses (another of Rebecca's castoffs) Molly felt brave enough to stare at others. She liked watching the couples stroll past hand in hand; she'd imagine how they met. Molly also noticed clothing and hairstyles, wondering what would look good on her.
She had been studying a girl with half her head shaved when she first noticed the curious man in the long black coat. He was strolling on top of the barrier along the river. His skin was the same unending black as his coat, and he wore his hair in a long ponytail. As he strutted along, Molly caught glimpses of his clothes underneath his coat. He seemed to be wearing some sort of a historical costume, but the colors and textures were wrong. Knee breeches weren't meant to be made of electric neon blue velvet, were they? Molly sat up a bit when she first noticed him. Here was someone with style and personality, two things Molly was certain she was desperately lacking. He turned around, facing the river, surveying it like he owned it. And with the casual elegance of someone who truly does not give a fuck, he dropped his pants and pissed over the side of the barrier.
Molly was shocked. The whole of the Embankment was crawling with people, enjoying the rare sunshine. Surely someone would cause a fuss. There was a policeman walking along just down the way, he would certainly take a dim view of this display. Molly watched, fascinated as the mysterious man finished his business, rearranged his clothes with a flourish and then continued sauntering along. Not one other person seemed to notice or care. Molly found herself standing and following the man along the Embankment. He began to speed up slightly, and Molly quickened her pace. Some small voice in the back of her mind insisted that this was a very stupid idea, but another louder voice (which sounded a lot like Rebecca) urged her on. The man was nearly running now, dodging other walkers without disturbing them in the least. Molly seemed to keep running into people who all shouted at her, but the man she followed was bounding along with cat-like grace. Suddenly, the area ahead cleared of people, and the man in the black coat whirled around to face Molly.
"I've never seen you before, so clearly I don't owe you any favors and if you're here on behalf of someone else, tell them to take care of their own damn business," he spat at her.
Molly was petrified, she didn't know why she had followed the stranger, and now the foolishness of her decision was staring her in the face. She shrunk back and gulped. "Oh, um, I'm not from anyone, I mean I was just…" she kept stammering as he narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to study her.
"Who are you? What barony to you pay fealty to?" he asked.
"Barony? Um I don't know, I'm not sure I have any fealty….." Molly could feel herself begin to ramble and squirm. She wished Rebecca were here, she'd have some sharp retorts.
The Marquis de Carabas continued to study her while she wriggled like a fish on a hook. It is well known that most denizens of London Below (though not all) possess some sort of gift, talent or even a Knack. The Marquis' gift was the ability to discern other's gifts, sometimes even before the bearer knew about them. As special talents go, it wasn't an impressive one, not like invisibility or moving objects with just the power of the mind. But the Marquis had learned how to use his modest talent to great advantage. By knowing other's talents, he was able to discern how each individual could be best made to serve him. He was a skilled manipulator and he prided himself on being able to learn other's weaknesses as well as their strengths. The Marquis had encountered many and varied talents during his long and wicked life. Some talents were interesting and easily manipulated to benefit the Marquis. Others required more of a stretch of the imagination. He had met a woman once who could tell with just a glance, and with complete accuracy, what brand of dog food a dog had last eaten. It had taken him a whole week to work out how to use her to his advantage. But the young woman in front of him now was an entirely different story. Her gift was one he had heard about, but never expected to witness for himself. This young woman's gift was death.
It was also rather obvious that she had no knowledge of her talent or of London Below. Of course, to be able to see the Marquis, she had to be close enough to slipping through the cracks to the magic and madness of London Below. A little nudge was all it would take. This was truly a great prize thought the Marquis. She had no knowledge of her gift, and thus hadn't developed it. Her affinity with death was currently quite weak, but with the right instruction and guidance, it could grow. The Marquis was thrilled. His last success had been the discovery of the cavern where the Velvets slept during the day, but that had been nearly a week ago and he was getting dreadfully bored. Here was a remarkable new challenge. It would take some extra research on his part, but if he was successful in grooming her talent, the payoff would be astounding. He carefully planned what he would say next, "Ah, my apologies, I thought perhaps you were from another London" he said with a smile.
"Another London?"
"Oh yes, but that isn't important right now. What is important is that I have not properly introduced myself, I am the Marquis de Carabas, at your service" he finished with a bow and twirl of his magnificent coat.
"Oh, I um don't think I've ever met a Marquis before" stammered Molly nervously.
"No, I can't imagine you would have. But, my dear, you must realize it is rude not to introduce yourself properly, why how else shall we become acquaintances?" Once more, he gave her his most dazzling smile.
"Molly, I mean, um, pleased to meet you, I'm Molly Hooper." She bit her lip nervously, wishing that someone would come along to save her from herself.
The Marquis knew that Molly had been quiet and obedient her whole life. He also knew that she dreamed of being much more. She wanted to be special, beautiful and desired. With the right approach it would be easy to bend her to his will. "Splendid, now, Miss Hooper, are you aware that you possess a rare and unique ability? Why, I had heard that such a thing existed, but never thought I should be fortunate enough to encounter one with the talent" he purred.
"A talent? I don't think I have any, I mean I can't sing or dance or anything like that." Molly could feel herself start to blush in embarrassment. The whole situation was too awful; Molly understood now why she had avoided most human contact her whole life. She felt torn in two. Some other part of her brain knew this conversation was dangerous, and shrieked at her to leave, but already she was drawn in by the mysterious Marquis.
"No, nothing so silly and worthless as singing and dancing. You, Molly, possess something far greater and precious. Please humor me and allow me to be indelicate for a moment. Pray tell me, how is your mother's health?" he smiled. Molly paled. The Marquis nearly licked his lips with delight. He had heard that this gift of death was usually passed from mother to daughter, but at a great cost, especially if they lived Above. Most that bore this sense of death were driven mad by it, and committed suicide. If Molly's mother had been in London Below or some other such safe place, she would have been more protected and learned how to properly harness her gift. Molly clearly had been born and raised above ground where magic and such gifts were children's stories. The Marquis was certain the odds were in his favor, and the girl's mother was dead. The color draining swiftly from her face told him he was right.
"My mother is dead" Molly said flatly. "She died when I was just a baby."
"Hmmm, tragic, but please forgive me if I am wrong, but it was not a natural death was it?" the Marquis asked. Now Molly began to feel her face flush anew. She had lived with her mother's death her whole life, it rarely affected her so. But Molly was sure that the man in front of her was asking questions he already knew the answers to. She felt extremely uneasy, and more than a little angry.
"Why do you ask? It's none of your business anyway, but she committed suicide."
"My sympathies, but I suspected as much when I saw the gift you have, it is almost always passed from mother to daughter. However, it is a hard burden to bear and many women with this gift are unprepared to manage the burden. Especially those who are unaware of their own abilities." The Marquis gave her another charming smile. His whole being radiated false concern; he was the kindly teacher who would show her the true path of wisdom. "I must tell you, Molly, that it is quite lucky we have met, for I may be able to help you learn about your gift. You will need some help; it's the only way to prevent yourself from going quite insane like your mother."
Molly was truly at war with herself now. She wanted to flee, cry, punch him and beg for more information all at the same time. Finally, she whispered "I don't believe you."
"Allow me to ask another question, have you ever had a sense that someone was going to die soon? Or had some other knowledge about a person's death that you couldn't explain otherwise?" the Marquis asked.
Molly's first instinct was to laugh at this latest ridiculous notion. But then she remembered what had happened when she was four years old. Molly had attended a small childcare center at the hospital where her father worked. Walking to and from the childcare area of the hospital, Molly and her father passed assorted doctors, nurses and patients. Molly had noticed that some of the people she passed were going to die soon. She wasn't bothered by this, her own mother was dead. Molly was comfortable with the thought of death. Her father had brought her up knowing about death and she accepted it as a natural thing like blue skies. Everybody had their own death around them; it was nothing to be worried about. One Monday morning, there was a minor commotion outside the childcare center. Molly's father went to talk to a small cluster of adults while Molly waited patiently on a bench. She swung her legs back and forth while they talked and gestured. There was some more whispering and worried looks between the adults. After a few minutes, Molly's father returned and sat down next to her. "Molly, dear, Miss Joan won't be at school anymore" he began.
"Yes, I know. She died yesterday evening" Molly said simply.
Her father looked shocked. "Molly, how did you know that? Were you listening while we were talking?"
"No, I knew yesterday she was going to be dead, like Mummy. Miss Joan was hit by a car. I don't think she was looking properly, Daddy" Molly looked up at her father. He looked even more upset. "It's alright Daddy, I promise I'll always stop and look like you taught me." This did not seem to reassure her father. Molly didn't understand why he was so upset. He took a deep breath and frowned again. He glanced back at the knot of adults standing in front of the door. He looked back down at Molly. She tried to smile reassuringly. He seemed to make up his mind. He picked Molly up and turned around. "We're going home" was all he said.
Daddy spent a long time that day asking Molly about Miss Joan. Molly was surprised to learn that he had been unable to see that her teacher was going to die. Molly thought that everyone could see death. Daddy kept insisting that she must have known about Miss Joan's death some other way, maybe she had seen it on the news. Molly knew she wasn't supposed to contradict, but that was a lie and lies were bad too. Finally, Daddy asked her to tell him more about how she knew Miss Joan was about to die. Molly tried to explain that everyone had their own death, and that it was always with them. "It changes Daddy, when it's time to die. Don't you see it too?" she asked.
Daddy told her quite firmly, that it was impossible to see death. People didn't see when other people were about to die. The next day Daddy took her to see a nice woman named Dr. Howard. She told Molly it was okay to call her Susan, but Molly never could call her that. It wasn't allowed to call adults by their first names. Dr. Howard asked Molly a lot of questions about her mother. Molly tried to answer them all truthfully. Yes, she wished she had a mummy who played with her like other children's did. No, she didn't think it was very sad her mummy was dead, everyone died. Other times Dr. Howard and Molly played with toys and puppets, which was much better than answering boring questions. Slowly, over the course of several years, Dr. Howard taught Molly that her notion of being able to "see" death was something that happened because she missed her mother. Molly didn't quite believe this, but she wanted to please Dr. Howard and her father, so she did her best to do what the doctor told her. So Molly learned to ignore death and gradually she stopped noticing it. In fact, she had made herself forget all about it, until the Marquis asked about it.
When Molly shook herself out of the memory, the Marquis was still smiling at her. Once again, Molly felt quite certain he knew the answer to his question before he even asked it. Before she could collect herself enough to speak, he said "Molly, I can tell that you have an affinity with death. You've always been able to sense it, haven't you?" Molly could only nod. "As I mentioned, I've heard that such a gift existed, it's really very rare. I'll have to do a bit of asking around, but I should be able to help you, that is if you would like some assistance in dealing with the matter. All I ask is a small favor in return" smiled the Marquis.
Molly's lips were dry; she swallowed and said "A favor? Like what sort of favor?"
"Oh that's not important now, something small, just a bit of help at some time in the future. You would like to know more wouldn't you? Just meet me right back here, the same time next Saturday. If you don't come I won't mind, you know, no skin off my teeth, now really I must be going, lots of questions to ask, things to learn." With that, the Marquis turned and marched away. Molly felt her mind swimming; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, the Marquis was gone.