Chapter Two

The Lamppost

My feet stung as I ran, full pelt, over the cobblestone streets in the direction of Dairy Road. My dress hem began to weigh down from the mud and water soaked into the material and the puddles splashed under my feet spraying water in all directions, yet still, I ran on. I reached the edge of Dairy Road and paused to catch my breath, the grass bent to the north –east and my hair, which had come unbound, whipped about my face. I heard a scream rip into the air from the shadows behind me and broke into a run. In seconds I was at number 6 Dairy Road, and banging on the door with clenched fists. I low rustling from the bushes increased my tempo into a panicked stricken attack, and my breathing came out in gasps. The door suddenly flew open and, unbalanced as I was, I fell inside. A pair of strong hands caught me and my eyes opened wider than they already were.

'You should slow down more; I may not me here the next time you fall.' A soft voice whispered into my ear. My head shot up and smacked into his straight and perfect nose. Instantly his hands released me and I fell in a heap onto the straw covered floor. I string of profanities were being muttered in the background and I blushed before rising to my feet, rather un-gentlemen-like, if I say so myself.

'I'm so sorry,' I apologised with my eyes on the floor, I was afraid to look up and see the look of disgust and anger on his face. I low chuckle broke me out of my thoughts and I chanced looking up through my unbound hair. I let out a sigh when I realised that the chuckle had come from him, Peter Phillips.

'Its quite alright, I should have expected such a reaction,' he replied with a hint of arrogance. My pride reared high at this comment and I brushed my hair from my face angrily.

'And why would you think that?' I bit back, forgetting briefly, that he was upper-class. He wasn't fazed by my hostility and replied with a slight smile.

'Simply because I seem to consistently be catching you in some manner whenever we come into contact.' Instantly I looked down, a knee- jerk reaction.

'Why are you here?' I asked with my eyes on the floor.

'Mr Phillips has been attending to my needs this evening,' a watery, weak, voice replied. We both wheeled around and looked into the doorway to the parlour, Peter's face filled with worry, my own, filled with shock and horror. Heidi Price was no longer the beauty she was just days ago, contra, she was quite the opposite. Her once shining golden hair now hung around her face lank and dull; she looked as though she had lost several pounds, and her eyes. I shuddered involuntarily; once shining blue eyes now were lifeless, buried beneath shadows of worry, Death's face could have been more attracted.

'Is there a reason for this intrusion of my privacy Miss locket?' she asked. I flinched back from her tone and replied in a small voice which even I was disgusted with.

'I would like to speak with you in privet Mrs Price,' I said with a meaningful look in Peter's direction. I saw his head whip around to my direction from the corner of my eye. I didn't look at him; instead I kept my gaze firmly on Heidi's. She must have seen something in my eyes and she gasped.

'You- you've seen Lester, haven't you?' she whispered, her hand at the base of her throat. My facial expression grew pained.

'Please Mrs Price, I must speak with you in privet, what I have to say is for your ears only.' Her gaze grew penetrating and she nodded once before gesturing into the parlour.

'Please, seat yourself whilst I bid good night to Mr Phillips.'

'Ma'am, thank you.' I turned slightly and looked at Peter, 'Goodnight Mr Phillips, I hope you have a safe journey home.' I turned and strode toward the parlour, 'Oh,' I said as I turned back to them in the doorway, 'a word of warning sir, stay out of the shadows tonight; if you wish to see the sunrise,' I averted my eyes from his startled gaze and strode swiftly into the parlour.

Heidi swept into the room, just seconds after I had entered myself, some goodbye, I thought sourly. She seated herself opposite me and looked at me in anticipation, when I failed to begin she gestured emphatically with her hands. Taking a deep breath I crossed my ankles and began.

'I have seen your husband ma'am.' I said in a monotone. She did not notice my expression or the tone of my voice, instead; she clapped her hands happily together, and all anxiety in her face vanished and was replaced with upmost happiness. I couldn't believe that I would be the one to send her, mentally, into her own living version of hell. I buried my face in my hands and breathed in deeply.

'What ever is the matter, child?' she asked, confused. I raised my head slightly from my hands and looked her in the eye.

'He's not your husband anymore Ma'am.'
She gazed at me uncomprehending for a brief moment, before she leapt to her feet and stood against the old, worn table.

'What is wrong with my husband, what have you done to him?' she screeched.

I sat back in my chair, what had I done to him? Personally, I thought that the trauma I had just taken part in was worse than anything I could have done to him!

'I haven't touched a hair on his head,' I answered truthfully. 'However, he has changed, a lot' A lot was an understatement. She sank back down into the hard backed chair and lent forward slightly.

'How has he changed?' she demanded, harshly. I felt slight defiance by her tone of voice and actually moved, ever so slightly, to begin to stride out of her front door without a second look. However, when I saw the torture behind the mask she held in place, I was unable to move any further.

'Please.' She whispered. I closed my eyes and went to stand beside the window.

'Before I tell you what I have seen, I beg you ma'am; please do not mistake the truthfulness of my answer to be the ramblings of an idiot.'

With wide eyes she nodded slightly and raised one hand to the base of her throat. I turned to the window and gazed out at the rain.

'Your husband is no longer the sweet, compassionate man we once knew, there is something about his eyes, his face, that is no longer, human' I whirled around and looked directly into her wide, frightened, eyes.

'His eyes. Oh God in heaven could not wish upon us a worse devil! His eyes are Red! They were as Red as Hell fires!' I crossed the small room in three quick strides and knelt before her, clasping my hands around hers, 'Not only were his eyes red with fire, but they smouldered, smouldered with such a terrible hunger!'

She stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. I sighed slightly and withdrew my hands; of course she wouldn't believe me, this was probably the most traumatic time of her life, besides the tax inflation.

'Where did you see this, look-alike?' she breathed, staring straight through me to the window. My head whipped around sharply.

'Look-alike? This was no look-alike ma'am. I have known your husband since I was a little girl; your husband was outside of my kitchen window tonight. His clothes so ragged and unwashed he appeared drunk.'

She suddenly seemed to snap back into herself and rose so she towered above me.

'There you have it, Miss Locket.' She said, staring down at me, 'the man you just saw was not my husband, for husband would never allow himself to get into such a state.'

'Ma'am, I assure you,-'

'Enough!' she command, I felt wetness on my face and reached involuntarily to wipe it off, she saw my hand twitch upwards and narrowed her eyes until I was sure she could hardly see me, 'you have risen above your station Miss Locket, it is very fortunate that I am a compassionate woman, for if not, you would be in a straight-jacket in the hospital before the sun has time to rise. Is that understood?'

'Yes, ma'am,' I murmured staring at the floor. She nodded and drew herself up to point at the door.

'Leave my house at once, you have played with my emotions, tortured my already aching heart and told me so many lies that I am surprised your tongue is not black and blue. Leave,'

'Goodnight Mrs Price,' I whispered. I turned and left the house without a backward glance.

That night I barely slept a wink. I tossed and turned in my small bed until I rolled too far and fell to the floor with a thump. I sat up aggravated, kicked the bed sheet off my legs and rose to my feet before any roaches or worse, rats, began to crawl all over me. I tramped over to the window and, after much pushing and shoving, thrown it open to allow the wintery air to blow into my face and refresh my thoughts. It was, for once, a cloudless night and the stars twinkled down from the heavens in a reassuring way. I inhaled deeply and lent forward slightly to gaze down at the street, I froze when I saw what was gazing back at me. His face illuminated by the moonlight and his dark eyes staring into mine. Lester Price was outside my window. He was exactly like he had been earlier tonight, his clothes ragged and patched, covered in dirt and grime; his eyes were as red as a sunrise and still he gazed at me with fevered hunger. One thing I noticed about him that I had not noticed before was the smell radiating off him, the smell of fresh blood. He smiled at me evilly, revealing in the process a pair of elongated teeth; before bowing mockingly and running down the street, I blinked once and he was gone. I stared in shock at the place he had been stood not sure if I had dreamt the encounter, I inhaled and nearly retched, though Lester Price had departed, the stench of fresh blood still lingered. I raised my eye level to the old lamppost and stared at it for a moment before noticing something hanging on top of it. It wasn't large and seemed to be lying in a spread eagle. From the distance I was at, it appeared to be a dog, or an absurdly large bird. I shook my head slightly; perhaps I was hallucinating a little. I closed the window and climbed back into bed, I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

The blinding sunlight hit me through the grimy window and my eyelids fluttered open to a new day. I lay in silence for a moment, savouring the warmth of the autumn sun; it was much warmer than it had been yesterday. I made to move my legs, but found them to be too heavy, I was physically exhausted. I shrill scream snapped me from my lethargic state. In seconds I was out of bed and gazing out of the window at the square below. A crowd of people were stood gazing up at the old lamppost, Caroline Davies had fainted and was being lifted through the crowd by her brother and his friends; children were being wheeled around and sent back into their homes. Women were screaming and crying, men were yelling for a member of authority to come and conceal the specimen on display. Curious, I dressed quickly and raced downstairs as fast as possible. At the door I stopped. On the barren wooden floor was a single white piece of paper. I bent and snatched it up from the floor and unfolded it to gaze at the writing. True, I was not a genius at reading, but I was better at it than writing. On the paper were six simple, threatening words written in a spidery text that chilled me to the very bone.

Keep quiet, or you lose another.

I lose another? Who had I already lost? Suddenly realisation hit me and I wheeled around, clutching the piece of paper tightly, and burst out of the door into the street. In mere seconds I was at the base of the lamppost staring up at it with tears streaming down my cheeks. The person skewered atop of the lamppost was beautiful; her dull blonde hair blew in the wind catching the sunlight in a way I had always envied, even in death she was held gracefully; her doll-like features hanging limp and lifeless. Others were gazing in horror at the blood raining down from her demolished throat, her broken leg and neck, yet I only saw the beauty of this lovely woman. She was beautiful, but she was dead. The piece of paper in my hand was a reminder of who was to blame for this death, the words, written in blood. I swayed on the spot and keeled over backwards. A pair of strong hands gripped me tightly.

'Don't worry, I have you,' he whispered.

'I'm not worried, I am with you,' I whispered before falling into merciful darkness.