His Black Wings

by Astrid Yrigollen

  Kurten awoke as the street sweepers began their early morning route. He had slept in the alley the whole night. While this was nothing new to him, sleeping in an alley was usually preceded by a night of vigorous drinking and merry making. Since Claren had gone, he had neither drunk nor made merry. This fact made him even sourer as he touched his decidedly broken nose. He wiped the dried blood off of his cheek and stood up shakily. Kurten walked home in the early morning light making a mental list of the steps he further needed to take for revenge.

  When Kurten had rung at the address in North Alcott it was Mary, the young servant girl, who had opened the door. He had expected to find Mr. Brighton at home, so he had brought a small pistol with two bullets. Mary informed him that neither Mr. Brighton nor Lilly his secretary were at home. Kurten’s mind seized upon the idea of this mysterious “Lilly” and deducted that there was a good chance it was none other than Claren herself. Kurten retired for the night but made sure to find the local rough house. For a spot of coin and a bottle of booze, he paid to have a piece of paper put on a body. The paper, written in a quivering hand, held one word.

  Claren.

  It was his idea to shake Claren up, she would surely hear about the murder and he wanted her to be terrified when he got to her. When the time was right, he once again packed his pistol and returned to the brownstone. This time the same young house maid opened the door but informed him that Mr. Brighton had quit the North Alcott brownstone with his secretary, Lilly. She did not offer anything more than that. Sidestepping his almost insurmountable disappointment, Kurten sized Mary up in two seconds. She was a naïve young girl of low birth who did not have any sense. Just the type girl of Kurten liked to get to know, he wasted no time in dating Mary. He rented a room in a nearby boarding house, the very same one Claren had stayed in. Every night he went to see Mary sparing no expense. He brought flowers, chocolates and stuffed animals, all the silly things that women liked. At first she was tight lipped about Mr. Brighton and he made sure not to press her to much at first. Gradually though, her defenses came down and she told him all she knew about her employer. Kurten hung on being kind to the girl which was out of character for him. Her accent alone gave him the strong desire to cuff her across the face. But still he waited for the one piece of information that he needed to continue his search. The private investigators he had hired were no longer turning up any information on Mr. Brighton, so he discharged them. It was as if when he left North Alcott with Claren, he simply vanished.

  When Mary finally told him that Mr. Brighton had an estate in Hartsford, he knew that was the next piece of the puzzle he needed. That very night Kurten packed up and went home to plan the next part of his journey. Mary, poor girl that she was had no idea how close she had come to being chewed up and spit out. She cried in to her pillow wondering what she had done to drive Kurten away.

  Arriving in Hartsford, Kurten stayed in the seedy party of town that rented rooms cheaply. He did not want to attract attention as he scouted for more information. After two weeks of staying in Hartsford, he began to wonder if it was not a mistake that he fired his investigators. Perhaps now at this part of the journey they would be able to uncover more information. The December day was cold and fresh when he decided to walk the shop row. Watching the people bustle along with their brightly tied packages eagerly looking forward to the holidays, he could not help but feel his mood change to black. He spied young couples in love gazing at engagement rings, their warm smiles cutting into his mood.

  If only Claren and I could have been like that.

  But deep down Kurten knew that he could never love another person as much as he did himself. Since he had stopped drinking and visiting the gambling houses, his thoughts seem clearer and more focused. He stopped short at one shop window to spy a girl in a beautiful white gown. She reminded him of Claren but the sun was reflecting in such a way on the shop glass her features were obscured. He continued on knowing that there was no way he would be able to find her that easily.

  By chance Kurten happened to be reading the society column in the news paper. Hartsford seemed a city unlike his own, it revolved around parties and events, gaiety, and laughter. It made Kurten feel even more sour and his black mood was constantly upon him. But for the first time (in a long time) Kurten’s spirits lifted. This one little column gave him all the information he needed to continue on to the next part of his plan. The column said that a Mr. Horace Bitwater was going to be in attendance at the Celestial Ball with his friend, Claren Lowood. Kurten read the rest of the column not realizing that his hands were shaking. He did however realize that more than likely it was Claren he had seen in the shop window when he first arrived in Hartsford.

  The days to the ball seemed to drag by for him as he chose to stay hidden in his cheap room. Finally, the day arrived and he hired a carriage to take him to the ball. He had showered and dressed carefully, almost as if he himself were going to be in attendance. Kurten knew however that this ball was exclusive to invitation and he was sure there would be security. His plan was not to attend, but to watch and wait for the perfect opportunity to confront her. With his carriage parked across the roadway, he watched as Claren and her companion and another couple exited their carriage. Kurten was not prepared for his reaction to her. These past months all he could think about is revenge, he was clear and set on hurting her, humiliating her. If Mr. Brighton/Lowood was there, he would take care of him as well.

  But now with her so close, dressed in a becoming dress, blushing shyly at those around her, he became enflamed with desire for her. She was still the vision of purity and loveliness that he remembered.

  Why did he have to want someone who didn’t want him?

  Kurten waited outside the whole night, waiting for Claren to emerge. He failed to see the commotion on the balcony above and had no idea of Etrigan or his grand entrance, but he did spy Claren and another woman walking out. He told the driver to follow the carriage to its destination.

  “Looks like your friends are going to Westwind, Sir.” The driver spoke to him from intercom.

  “Westwind?” Kurten responded gruffly.

  “Yes, it’s the only estate here on this lane.”

  “Do you happen to know the name of the family that lives at Westwind?” Kurten asked.

  “Aye, it’s Mr. Lowood, old bachelor, no wife or kids.” Kurten’s mind raced in many different directions. Was Claren there against her will? Was Brighton/Lowood taking advantage of her? He laughed harshly at his own thoughts. Not a month ago he would not have cared if Claren was dead, now he was concerned about her well being. The irony of it all made him angry when he realized that after everything, he still wanted her for his own.

  “Drive by the house but do not stop.” He said to the driver. All he needed to know was where the house was. He planned to hire a horse and come by to visit the “old bachelor” and Claren in person.

  The next evening Kurten dressed carefully, combing his hair back and tucking in his shirt. Even though it was now early February, there was still a chill in the air. He whistled a low tune as he put his dark coat on and left his room. Arriving at Westwind, he was disappointed to see that the house was dark. He thought that he would be arriving at dinner time and there would be a bustling of servants to direct him inside.

  How that would catch Lowood by surprise, to see me standing in his house.

  Kurten’s horse trotted up prettily to the front entrance of Westwind. Dismounting, he tied it up to a tree and walked to the door. Ringing the bell, he was surprised to see it was Claren herself who opened the door. Her surprise was greater than his own as he saw the color drain from her pretty face. Her hand, knuckles turning white, gripped the door post and she seemed as though she might swoon. Instead she opened her mouth to call out one word softly.

  “Etrigan.” She whispered desperately. Before Kurten could say anything, a tall form appeared behind Claren.

  “What is it that you want here Sir?” The dark form said, staying
hidden in the shadow of the darkened house.

  “Why, I wish to speak to Miss Maidstone of course.” He saw a hand come out and rest on Claren’s shoulder. It pulled her back gently and she went willingly out of Kurten’s view.

  “There is no one here by that name.” Etrigan said shutting the door in Kurten’s face. Claren walked to the couch on trembling legs. She could hear Kurten banging on the door again.

  “Please, do not let that man in Etrigan.” Etrigan looked to her retreating form, then back at the door.

  Why did she seem so distraught? Etrigan wondered.

  Going against Claren’s wishes, he opened the door once more to the insistent banging. Glaring at the visitor, making sure to only open the door part way.

  “Who are you?” Etrigan hissed.

  “She knows who I am! I want to talk to Brighton, no, that is not his real name is it? Where is Lowood?”

  “I can only assume you mean my father, he is away on business.”

  “Away? Well then, let me speak to Claren.” Kurten said seeing his plan dissolve before him once again. It was almost comical how fate would muck up his plans once more.

  “I don’t think that she wants to speak to you now. She seems rather ill suddenly and it so happens that it coincides with you arriving here, so that leads me to believe that it is your visit that is making her feel ill, so leave.”

  “She’ll feel a lot worse if she doesn’t talk to me! I demand to talk with her you dog!” Etrigan upon hearing the strangers threat to Claren’s person, opened the door fully and came out of the house. He placed his hand on Kurten’s chest looking down at him as he forcefully walked him backwards towards his horse. Kurten’s mouth opened in shock as he saw Etrigan’s wings expand and reach towards him, their talons shiny and black, pointed towards him.

  “I suggest you leave and never come back to Westwind. Or it is you Sir, who will feel a lot worse.” Etrigan said in a deadly voice. Kurten, having the survival instinct of a rat, knew when he was bested and got back up on his horse that was snorting and pawing at the ground nervously. Etrigan stayed and watched the intruder ride down the lane.

  As Kurten galloped away he knew he would be back here no matter what the winged monster said. He had spent too much time and energy to give up now. He did not know what kind of game was being played here but as his father said, it was just a game, and if he had to remove players to win, so be it.

  Sorting the truth out

  “Who was that man, Claren?” Etrigan asked when he came back into the house. I felt myself trembling, a million thoughts crowding into my mind.

  “I don’t know where to begin.” I said softly, feeling my voice shake.

  “Start at the beginning. Who is he to you?” Etrigan demanded roughly as he sat down by my side, his wings awkwardly bumping the couch. For a second time, I had to explain the history between Kurten and I.

  Why wouldn’t he stay regulated to my past? Would I never escape him?

  Etrigan listening thoughtfully as I explained how Kurten began to come over regularly. I had already told him how my parents had died and I left my home, but I never told him under what circumstances I had left on that day. I told him how my parents were very passive when it came to Kurten but would in their own way, pressure me to marry him.

  “And you didn’t want too?” Etrigan asked.

  “No, I absolutely loathed him. My parents would always tell me to be polite to him when he came over, but it was torture. I knew he visited the gambling houses and went with other women. There was no way I wanted any part of him. My parents were so unknowing though and would never turn him away when he showed up Sunday after Sunday uninvited.”

  Etrigan took my hand gently and urged me to continue with my story.

  “It was after my parent’s accident and I was alone after the funeral. Kurten insisted on taking me home that day. I was a sheltered, stupid girl not really knowing how people could be. I do know right from wrong though, and it would be wrong for me to marry someone I did not love. All I could think of was running away from him…”Etrigan squeezed my hand suddenly as if realizing something.

  “Was he the one who tried to hurt you Claren!?” Etrigan asked, his face flushing with anger.

  “Yes, he tried to rape me and it was Naza who saved me. I ran away when the Constables left and happened to see an ad for an assistant. It was your father’s ad. He hired me, but then later he asked me to come here.”

  “Why did he ask you to come here? I don’t understand why my father would even need an assistant.”

  “It’s true I really didn’t do anything for him while in North Alcott. He seemed to be weighing me, asking me odd questions. I didn’t know what to make of it.”

  “He had been acting very strange this past year. Of course I never know what is going on in my father’s head. When he asked you to come to Westwind, did he say why?”

  “He had taken me back to St. Marhen. He said that he was visiting a friend. I waited for your father, but instead ran in to Kurten where he tried to hurt me again. Your father saved me. Later, nearby, there was a murder, a girl from a pub. This seemed to agitate your father and he then asked me to come with him to his home.” I sighed trying to recount the events just as I remembered them.

  “On the train, he seemed to know who I was, how I had used a fake name when I sought employment. My real name Etrigan, is Claren Maidstone. Your father wanted it kept a secret. So he told everyone I was his niece.” Etrigan dropped my hand like it was something now repulsive to him and looked at me queerly.

  “Why did he bring you here?” I swallowed hard not knowing if I was making a mistake by telling him. I did not want our friendship to be based on lies and I could already tell he was hurt that I kept my real last name hidden from him.

  “He wanted me to be friends with you. He said he would protect me from Kurten and the authorities that were now after me. Kurten’s father is the mayor and he made up charges against me. I have been in hiding here at Westwind.”

  “So he blackmailed you into being my friend? That is why you are here?”

  “No! He didn’t blackmail me. He offered me sanctuary and then told me about you. I know it sounds terrible, but it wasn’t like that. I wanted to be your friend Etrigan. I hope you know me well enough to know that I am not a shallow person who only looks for how a person can benefit me!”

  Etrigan stood up and paced the living room, his wings moving out and in on their own.

  “You say that, but you are using my father to benefit you. He protects you, why, I don’t know but I will find out.”

  “Etrigan, I had never been away from my parents for even an overnight trip until I went to the Ladies academy and even that was difficult. I had no job skills, no true friends I could turn to, but I was determined to try to survive on my own the best that I could, while avoiding Kurten. Your father offered me a job, but it was not to be your paid companion. He had only hoped we might become friends. Etrigan please, I never wanted to hurt you.” I stood up and went to him and he turned his back to me. I felt a wall of coldness move between us.

  “I’m sorry Claren, I need time to figure this out. My father has left not telling me where, so until he gets back maybe we should just not talk to one another.”

  “Etrigan please, I did not mean to deceive you. It was only because of my own safety that I kept my name a secret. I was afraid that Kurten would find me.”

  “But you can see how it looks to me, correct? I can almost hear my father’s voice say ‘Befriend my poor disfigured son and I shall give you whatever you like.’ ”

  “No Etrigan, please it was not like that. He only told me that there was something wrong with you that kept you from going out.”

  He studied me for a long while, his tumultuous emotions were being written on his face. I stepped closer to him, hoping to touch his arm but he looked away and left the room without saying anything in response.

  ****

  Kurten rode down the lane quickly still
wondering about the winged creature that had spoken to him.

  Perhaps it had been a costume.

  Either way it didn’t matter, what mattered was that Lowood was away on business and there was no one guarding the hens.

  The freak was there.

  Kurten gripped the reins of his horse tightly.

  This thing might prove to be an obstacle but if somehow...

  A slow smile broke out on Kurten’s face. He knew what he had to do but there were preparations to be made. He had only hoped he could make it to the chemist and the docks in time. He spurred his horse on to a faster speed.

  Horace Bitwater knocked loudly at the Peterson estate door till his knuckles were raw. It was late in the afternoon as the sun was getting ready to set.

  “Dekker! Wake up man!” Horace called out to the door. The door opened slowly and a sleepy eyed Dekker yawned in Horace’s face.

  “What is so terribly important that it cannot wait till a more respectable hour?” Dekker said.