Were winding down too the final battle, but not quite yet! In this chapter, something peculiar happens to one of the characters. I won't say who….

Mrs. Lovett's POV…

I had no idea why I was as sick as I was. I didn't want to know either. All I knew was that my stomach burned with the hint of illness. Genevieve stayed right with me, and we were soon joined by Toby. How could I be such a cold fish when it came to children? These two children vowed their work effort and time into making sure that I was both healthy and comfortable. I respected them more for this.

Mr. T was getting on well with his tonsorial parlor. But I didn't feel bad about the fact that Mr. T had murdered Senor Piralli. I actually found some comforting joy in the action. After all, that man treated Toby poorly. We had a body that was moldering in Mr. T's trunk, but, thanks to my wits, that was no longer a problem. The body- or what remains of it- has been battered into submitting and lushly baked into meat pies. Very delicious meat pies, if a baker may have an opinion.

"Ma'am," said Toby from the doorway. "Will you be requiring anything?" he asked.

I looked his way from my settee. "No," I simply said.

He nodded and disappeared into the pie shop.

Though I was sick, I had business to sort out. About the black wolf I saw in my bake house. It was Genevieve and Genevieve was it. How on earth could something like this exist? It seems to unrealistic and paranormal to exist in a city as boring and wild as London. Perhaps she was cursed by Lucy Barker or something. I wouldn't put it past that old nag. I could see images of the wolf in my mind. Slick, jet black fur, huge sharp, white fangs and teeth. And not to mention the beautiful- yet intriguing- golden-amber color to the eyes. The creature had the deepest growl and the burliest snarl I had ever heard. Perhaps I should be open-minded towards this. Perhaps I should just come out and ask her about it.

I was absolutely certain of one thing. I could not let the Beadle, Judge Turpin, or Mr. T get a whiff about her.

Genevieve's POV…

After Mrs. Lovett fell sick, Toby and I took over the shop. He waited at the counter for customers, even though there were none. I swept the outsides steps, and surveyed the faces of the people who walked passed. I saw that man again, the one they call "Beadle", according to Mrs. Lovett. The man who worked for Judge Turpin. He was walking toward Mr. Todd's staircase. And, he had Judge Turpin at his side.

I quickly dropped the broom, and ran into Mrs. Lovett's alcove.

"Mrs. Lovett, Mrs. Lovett," I shouted.

"What is it, love?" she asked quickly.

"Beadle is here, and e's got Turpin with 'im. They're goin' up to Mr. Todd's," I informed her while trying to successfully catch my breath.

"Blimey," muttered Mrs. Lovett. "Quick, 'elp me up."

I did so and I made sure that I was extremely careful while handling her. Something smelled odd about her, quite the elegant smell. Normally, all she smelled of was bloody meat and grease. But not today; today she smelled very sweet. Very sweet scented indeed.

She crossed the room to the window. "Look, dearie, you're right. 'E's goin' to Mr. T's for a shave," she pointed out.

"Perhaps we should follow 'em," I said.

She shook her head. "No dearie. I've got an idea, go and fetch Toby; we can do somethin' together, all three of us."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, turning from the window and heading into the pie shop.

Toby was nowhere in sight. I decided at the last minute to check the bake house. As I made my way to the double doors into the bake house, I could hear singing coming from Mr. Todd's above me. Once I was in the bake house, the sweet smell of pies filled the air. I sniffed the air happily, and licked my lips. Toby was nowhere in near sight, I decided to check the sewers. My boots made soft sounds as I tiptoed in the stink-filled hole-like corridors.

"Toby," I called quietly.

A strident growl was heard. I stopped in my tracks, and slowly turned around, careful not to move a muscle.

There was only one thing I cold say when I saw what was before me.

"Not you too," I whispered.