Every time she went to meet the Marquis, Molly felt like she was making a terrible, possibly deadly mistake. And every time when they parted, she swore she would never go back. But week after week, she returned to find him. He would never speak much about himself. The few times he did, he reminded her he was a liar and scoundrel. Uneasy though she was, Molly had to admit; he never harmed her, nor put her in obviously dangerous situations. Most times they would walk and he would describe some aspect of life in London Below.
Molly was most curious about the Floating Markets. He told her that they were safe places, protected by a centuries long truce. He also mentioned that many of them took place in areas that physically were part of London Above. The Floating Markets were full of people in all shapes, sizes and colors. Everything was done by barter. At the Floating Market you could find such things as nightmares, teeth-pullers and other assorted bits and bobs. Molly was fascinated and wanted to go see one. But the Marquis warned that to do so, she would have to leave her current life and join London Below permanently. "I thought that was your plan, you told me I should do so," Molly teased.
The Marquis looked more serious that Molly had ever imagined. "No, I would never bring someone underneath without their permission. Unless they were dying, I might do it then without having a chat first, but as I've mentioned, I'm a well-known monster, and unlikely to save some poor dying soul" he told her. Strangely, this made Molly feel better. She wasn't sure if the Marquis was truly as bad a man as he claimed to be, but she did trust him with keeping her safe and now knew he wouldn't lead her to London Below without her permission.
Other times when they met, he would talk more about Deathseers and their abilities. The Marquis told her how they were able to see a person's death, and that occasionally they had the ability to heal. He encouraged Molly to practice at being a Deathseer. Molly had noticed that if she focused on her death sense, it grew stronger. At first she had been pleased with her enhanced ability, but it was becoming more of a problem. She noticed that within the dark mists, she could sometimes see images. It wasn't long before she realized that the images she saw were of how the person would die. It was unnerving to purchase textbooks while watching the clerk overdose on drugs in an alley. The Marquis had already warned her that attempts to change people's deaths were largely futile. Molly worked at trying to control her death sense. At first, it was always there. It took long hours of practice, but eventually Molly was able to turn her sense of death off and on at will. This truly impressed the Marquis; gaining such control over such a notoriously difficult talent wasn't easy.
Molly was exhausted. Her grades had begun to slip, and so had her friendship with Rebecca. Molly was busy nearly every Saturday. She was also less and less interested in Friday nights at the pub or long study sessions. Rebecca would call and plead for Molly to come and help her study or just do something, anything. Every time Molly would come up with a stupid excuse why she couldn't help or go out. Eventually the phone calls dwindled and stopped. Molly had felt conflicted at first, but now her work with the Marquis was too important, too special. Tests and friends were too mundane for her now. Throughout the whole summer, she kept up with her meetings with the Marquis and little else. They didn't meet every week anymore, but Molly was still busy, testing the limits of her abilities and forcing herself to exert more control over them.
She did still pursue one scholarly endeavor. Molly interned at the morgue that summer. She was fascinated to see how her ability could be used with the bodies that came in. She learned that if she touched a dead body, and concentrated, she could sometimes get a glimpse of the last moments of the person's life. This was extremely difficult to do; the first time she did it successfully she passed out cold for 10 minutes. The whole staff at the morgue teased her, saying she was clearly too delicate to work there. Molly tried to protest that she had fainted because she was exhausted, but no one believed her. So she stopped trying to use her death sense on corpses. It required too much energy to do often, but still, it was another facet of her sense of death. The Marquis was always delighted to hear about how her talent was growing. Secretly, he was astonished, Molly was growing much more powerful than he had first imagined. He could barely contain his glee when she breathlessly described her latest experiments. He began working on gathering the ingredients to hide his life away.
It is a fact that the Marquis hated doing any kind of dirty work. It wasn't his style at all. He preferred to bribe others to do physical labor for him. But, he knew, when dealing with magic, effort was important. Much as he loathed the thought of it, he would have to dig up his own damn grave dirt, or risk failure. He spent a few nights scouting out likely cemeteries. A modern one, with cement burial vaults wouldn't do at all; he needed something old, where the bodies had been allowed to truly return to the dust from whence they came. Unfortunately, many of the older cemeteries were considered historically important, and an outlandishly dressed man digging up a grave was sure to be noticed, even if he was from London Below. In truth, the notion of physical labor was stopping him more than anything else. The thought of ruining his clothes or, worse yet, his delicate hands was abhorrent. There had to be a way to get what he wanted without having to waste an evening knee deep in mud and muck.
The Marquis de Carabas was getting rather frustrated when he had a lucky find. A drab post-Blitz building was being torn down. After the building was leveled, an excavation for a deeper basement with a car park was begun. The excavation came to a screeching halt when the heavy machinery began turning up large slabs of masonry and the occasional skull. A small, long forgotten church had once occupied the same spot. Centuries of newer construction had piled up and buried the remains of the church. The recent digging had disturbed the final resting place of the church's long ago membership.
The Marquis had many sources of information, and he learned about the discovery before even the news media or archaeologists. As soon as he was informed, he ran to site. Finally, the perfect solution to his nagging problem, thought the Marquis. He took a quick stroll around the site. It was mere moments before he found a sizeable portion of skull. He picked it up and scooped some of the mud out of it. Just in case, he scouted around till he found a chunk of coffin lid. He scraped some mud off both sides, being sure to include any bone fragments he saw. Carefully, he packed his grave dirt in a plastic bag he had plucked from a trash can. He then brushed as much mud as possible off his magnificent black coat and strutted away with his hands in his pockets.
Once he had procured proper grave dirt, it was nothing at all to find a metal box. The Marquis, being a choosy sort, took his time, considering all his options before making a final decision. He reasoned that one should at the very least, try to choose an aesthetically pleasing receptacle to hold their life. After visiting several junk shops, two museums and an art gallery, he found the perfect box in a dusty antique store. It was silver with a velvet lining, perfect to protect and cushion the egg that he would hide his life away inside. Next he checked the calendar for moon phases. It was already September. The Marquis decided to wait till October; he was in no particular hurry. Better to make sure it was definitely autumn, he had a sense he wouldn't get many chances to finish this scheme. At his next meeting with Molly, the Marquis hinted that he had learned of something else a Deathseer could do, something truly extraordinary. Molly was immediately hooked, just as he knew she would be.
"It involves a ritual, something that must be done on the night of a new moon. If the ritual is done properly, the Deathseer should create something that would help the person that asks for the Deathseer's help. Something that would protect that individual's life. I know what is needed to complete the ritual, it's easy enough, the Deathseer adds a bit of their blood to some dirt, the other person has to add some as well. Then the Deathseer holds the dirt, and the other person holds the Deathseer's hands while the Deathseer concentrates their powers on the dirt. Simple, really. If it works, the Deathseer will create an object of great power that will keep death from the other person. What do you think Molly? Only a Deathseer of great power could manage it, could you do it? Are you strong enough?" the Marquis asked.
Molly's power had increased and she was becoming rather vain about her abilities. She no longer even heard the little voices that told her this was all a terrible idea. She was offended that the Marquis would even hint that she wasn't strong enough to successfully carry out the ritual. She glared at him and said "Of course I'm strong enough! It hardly sounds difficult, just hold some dirt and concentrate. When can we try it?"
The Marquis couldn't believe how easy it had been to manipulate her. He almost felt bad, but was too greedy to give a damn. "It just so happens, that the next new moon is in four days, Sunday night. Are you really willing to try such a thing? I won't mind if you're too frightened."
Molly bristled again, hadn't she shown that she wasn't a scared little girl? She drew herself up and haughtily replied "When and where shall I meet you?"
"On the Embankment, where we first met, 9:00 PM. I'll bring all the necessary materials I look forward to seeing you" answered the Marquis. He smiled once more and disappeared in the crowds.
The night of October's new moon was calm and clear. The temperature had dropped and Molly wore a fuzzy pink sweater and hat when she went to meet the Marquis. As always, he was already there waiting when she arrived. And true to form, he appeared quite bored, as though he had far better places to be and much more interesting people to see. Molly began to doubt herself. She bit her lower lip and thought about going home. But before she made herself too nervous, the Marquis graced her with one of his most winning smiles and reached out his hand to her.
"Molly, I'm delighted to see you. Now, you aren't afraid of blood at all, are you?" He brandished a small penknife with his other hand.
Molly rolled her eyes, a trick she had learned well from Rebecca. "Please. You know I'm studying to be a doctor, I spent the whole summer in the morgue. Blood doesn't bother me at all. You told me how this ritual goes, let's get on with it." Molly could hear the slight tremor in her voice; she hoped the Marquis didn't notice how anxious she really was.
"Wonderful, now let us come just down here a ways," he said.
The Marquis led her to the barrier next to the Thames. He jumped on top it and then climbed down the other side. Molly couldn't see the other side in the dark, but the Marquis took her hand and helped her down. They were standing on a small rocky ledge that gave way to the mud flats along the river. The Marquis removed his coat, and like a bullfighter, spun it around before laying it on the ground and gesturing to Molly to sit. Molly noticed he had a plastic bag. He took out a candle stub and lit it, setting the candle down next to his coat. Then he joined Molly in sitting on his coat.
He took a small silver box out of the bag. He then gestured wordlessly for her hand and she gave it to him. He raised the penknife above her hand, and then looked to her for permission. Molly nodded. He cut into the pad of her thumb and swiftly turned her hand over the open bag. Molly watched as blood dripped from her thumb. As her eyes grew used to the dark, she could see the dirt heaped in the bag. After a few moments, the Marquis took a dainty handkerchief from some hidden pocket and wrapped it around her cut. Molly looked on as he took the pen knife and sliced across his wrist.
Blood flowed from his wrist. The Marquis watched dispassionately as the blood mixed with the dirt. He poked the dirt with a finger a few times. Finally he was satisfied. He took the handkerchief back from Molly. He held it out to her and indicated she should tie it over the gash in his wrist. Molly was slightly more worried now. His cut looked a bit too large to her, like it might need stiches. Before she could voice her concern, he took her hands and plunged then into the dirt. Molly gasped as she touched it. The dirt was closer to mud now, with both of their blood mixed in. Without thinking, she began to knead the dirt and blood together. It was cold and smelled musty and ancient. As the dirt passed through her fingers, she found herself thinking of churches and plagues, fires and prayers. The Marquis was helping, guiding her hands. She squeezed and molded the dirt into a rough ball. Now it felt warmer in her hands. She thought she heard faint voices, almost as if a Shakespearean play was being performed on the other side of the river. She looked at the Marquis and he nodded. He whispered to her, "Hold the ball of dirt in your hands. When I place my hands over yours, concentrate all your power, all your death sense on the dirt, don't let go." She nodded once more. His dark hands covered hers and she closed her eyes.
At first, there was nothing, but then the voices grew louder. There were screams and laughs and bits of song. A gust of wind sprang up and the voices became even louder. The wind grew stronger. Molly was soon in the center of a swirling vortex and wind and sound. She tried to scream, but felt the air ripped from her lungs. The lump of dirt within her hands became very hot, and she could see glimpses of light between her fingers. Up until this point, everything had been a game, but now Molly was truly terrified. The voices jabbered on, and she could nearly see figures reaching out from the wind. She tried to look at the Marquis, but was nearly blinded by a sudden red light that shot from his mouth. When she closed her eyes she had visions of a small, dark child running and laughing. She knew that she was seeing some memory, some small slice of life of the Marquis. The wind grew stronger still and the voices were deafening. Just when Molly thought she would pass out, unable to breathe, everything stopped. The wind disappeared as quickly as it had come and the only sound was Molly gasping for breath.
As soon as she felt air returning to her body, Molly jumped back, tripping over the rocks and falling back to the ground. She gulped in deep breaths. Then she looked down at her hands. She held an egg. It glowed faintly red, and then the light pulsed twice and faded completely. The egg was a dark bluish color and covered with brown spots. The Marquis leapt to his feet and strode over to her. His mouth was open in shock and he reached his hands out for the egg. Molly became angry and pulled away from him. She scrambled to her feet and wheezed "What the hell just happened?"
The Marquis de Carabas looked at her wide-eyed for a moment more. He collected himself quickly and said, "We were successful, you did it Molly." Then he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her firmly on the lips. Molly was too shocked to react and stood there like an idiot while he stroked her hair.
"Molly, my sweet girl, you did it." The Marquis smiled at her and then stepped back, hands on his hips. He began talking rapidly, more to himself than Molly, "I thought it might work, but I don't think I really believed it, but this, THIS Molly! This is better than I could have dreamed." He grinned bigger than Molly had ever seen. Once more he reached his hands out for the egg. Molly stepped back again, holding the egg far back from him.
"What the hell is this? Tell me right now or I'll throw it in the damn river" she rasped.
The Marquis shrank back, adopting a more neutral posture. "Please Molly, don't do anything rash. I told you, we created something that will help keep me safe" he begged.
Molly shook her head. "I don't believe you, tell me the truth, now, or I'll break it" she whispered.
The Marquis eyes grew wide with fear, "Please, just wait, listen, I promise, I'll tell you, just don't break it." He sighed and said "The egg now holds my life. If I die, the egg can be used to bring me back to life. That's the truth Molly, I can't hurt anyone with it. They're very rare, no one in London Below has heard of a Deathseer here in over one hundred and fifty years."
Molly looked at the egg with revulsion. "Oh god, you're right, your death is different. I can hardly see it anymore" she whispered. She stretched her hands out to the Marquis. "Take it, it's horrible" She shuddered as he grabbed it. Molly stood there, shaking slightly as he quickly picked up the silver box. He carefully laid the egg inside and then picked up his coat. He brushed it off slightly before putting it back on. The silver box disappeared into some inner pocket. Once more, he smiled at Molly and offered her his hand. She jumped away from him, shaking her head.
"Molly, don't be frightened." He stepped closer and brushed her hair away from her face. Molly looked back up at him and he cupped her face in his strong, dark hands. He kissed her again, a sweet loving kiss. "You really are amazing Molly. Come with me to London Below, you'll be happy there, I promise, together we will be so powerful, come with me, you'll love it, no one has ever seen power like yours" he murmured.
Molly nearly swooned. She realized that she had never been properly kissed before. She stepped back and shook her head. "You want me to be your helper then, do this for more people" she said. Molly shuddered again, the memory of the voices in the wind far too fresh. "I won't do it; it's terrible, if I knew what it was like I wouldn't have done it for you." Molly began to cry, tears mixing with the streaks of mud on her face.
The Marquis frowned once again and began to pace. "Don't be silly. I told you, this gift of yours is dangerous, more so if you stay in London Above. You'll go completely mad and end up like your mother, dead by your own hand. Stay with me in London Below and I can protect you. You won't have to make another egg, better I keep this secret to myself anyway" There was a desperate, hungry look in his eyes. He beckoned once more for her to come with him.
Molly backed away from him, standing nearly at the wall of the Embankment. "No, I can't leave my father; I promised him I'll become a doctor. He needs me. I can't." She sobbed once at the thought of leaving her father. He would be crushed if she disappeared.
With a huff, the Marquis turned and marched up to Molly. He glared at her for a few moments, standing right in front of her. "Fine, run along then, back to Daddy, he won't keep you safe. Go along then, I told you what you wanted to know and you've returned the favor. Our transaction is finished then. I won't be bothering you ever again" he hissed.
He began striding away when she called out, "Wait, it's not fair."
He whirled around with a shocked look on his face. "What! Not fair? Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not! You told me some stories; I helped you hide your life away. It's not an even exchange."
"Hmph! I offered you everything, and you've thrown it back at me. Go home little girl. Try and forget all about the magic and darkness back in the safety of Daddy's arms!"
He tried to leave again, but Molly grabbed his arm. "Wait!" she said. He turned once more and folded his arms over his chest. Molly took a deep breath, "I have an idea. What if someday, sometime in the future I do want to come to London Below. Would you help me then?" she asked.
He seemed to consider it for a moment. He sighed. "You really are becoming quite irritating. You think I'll just come like a dog when you decide it's convenient for you?"
She looked at him and said quietly "You owe me. You offered to take me; I just want to choose when."
"Fine" he huffed. He reached into a hidden pocket and drew out two small copper coins and the pocketknife. He stabbed his thumb and squeezed several drops of blood on the tail side of each coin. He then took Molly's cut thumb and squeezed the cut till some blood welled out. He took one coin and rubbed it the heads side in her blood. This coin he returned to his pockets. He held the other out to her. He rolled his eyes and sighed "When you're quite ready, just come back here. Put a few drops of your blood on it, and throw it in the river. Give me at least an hour or so, and I'll show up, ready and willing to escort her highness to her underground kingdom. Of course, I won't be able to come should I have gone visiting elsewhere or if I'm dead."
Molly put the coin in a pocket. She looked back at the Marquis and said "I won't worry about you being dead, as long as you're not careless with that egg I just gave you." She tried to wipe her face on the sleeve of her sweater.
He actually smiled at this. He took her hand and presented her with a graceful bow and quick kiss on the back of her hand. "I shall endeavor to take good care of it. Farewell Molly" he said as he walked toward the wall of the Embankment. There was a brief flash of light, and the Marquis de Carabas was gone.