“Miss Morton,” he said, “There is much you must be told, and I’m afraid... I’m afraid there is none to tell you but myself.”
He coughed and cleared his throat several times before beginning again. He seemed very uncomfortable, hesitant even. He continued in a near whisper, his eyes staring widely from across the table.
“You have experienced,” he said, “Several strange things of late. Have you not, my dear?”
Annabelle smiled wryly, musing over the past seventy-two hours of her life. She wondered which of the many instances she should chose from for an example of strangeness.
“One might say that, sir.”
“Yes, indeed. I’m quite sure,” he said, nodding sympathetically. “My dear, you seem quite an intelligent little creature, so I will not attempt to deceive you. There are many strange things happening in this place. As I’m sure you’ve observed.”
After a pause, his face changed; his eyes glinting in the firelight as he leaned in towards her.
“My dear,” he said, looking sinister in the harsh light. “I believe I should first tell you that you risk very great danger upon yourself if you venture out of this room alone.”
Annabelle swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a warning or a threat..
“There are... things,” he said. “Creatures down in these depths. Things a young woman like yourself would find to be most unnatural. But, forgive me, I can see I’ve frightened you.”
Annabelle hadn’t realized how visible her fright was. But apparently she wore it like a mask. She felt suddenly dizzy, and her hands cold as ice.
“I fear, however,” he continued, chuckling apologetically, “That frightening you may be quite necessary. You see, these caverns run deeper than any man has dared venture. Any man. Through all recorded tales and history. None have seen into it’s depths. Not one. No man knows what exists down in it’s darkness. None have the courage to find out.”
He squeezed her hand tighter.
“This place is the dark secret of our great city, my dear. Of the Empire, in truth. Few realize how unmeasured this realm is. Very few. Though it lay just beneath their feet. Most disregard it, telling themselves it is but a few abandoned streets inhabited by the very poor. Where paupers and convicts go to shrivel before the light. That it is a place not worth a second thought. But the few, powerful men who know the truth of this place keep an unspoken pact with we who inhabit it’s darkness. They stay above and we stay below. For they fear us. But even more, they fear this place.”
Her hand shivered beneath his. There seemed little purpose in trying to hide it.
“But,” she asked. “What do you mean? What dwells down here?”
Daveye watched her, hesitating for some time. He seemed to be considering how much to tell. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier than before.
“Many things,” he said simply, “And there are many things that you do not know about the world, my dear.”
“I’m sure you are right,” she replied with a sardonic lilt.
His face changed again, and she feared what he was about to say, sensing instinctually that it was grave indeed; perhaps something she didn’t wish to know at all.
“I shall get precisely to the point,” he said, his eyes piercing hers. “You are not safe here, Miss Morton. And it is my personal wish that you might be saved. Not by knowledge, but by ignorance.”
His eyes danced nervously over her face as he studied her, searching for understanding.
“Don’t you see, my dear,” he said. “I have seen things. Insupportable things in this place. I should never forgive myself if anything happened to a pretty little innocent like you. You are so sweet and fresh. Sometimes, rather than meet our chances, it is best to retreat. Sometimes it is the only way to live in reasonable peace and safety - to remain in ignorance.”
Annabelle squinted, feeling lost.
“And so,” he said, “I shall find someone to guide you out of this place. But you must wait for my signal. It must be done just so. For, if he found out...”
“Who?” she asked.
Daveye went pale.
“The Magus,” he said, as if the name caught in his throat.
She remembered hearing that word down in the corridors, and could hear the effort it took Daveye to keep his voice steady at it’s speaking.
“He is the lord of this realm,” Daveye continued. “You’ve met him. He brought you here.”
What, Blackall? Did he mean Blackall? Daveye breathed deeply and spoke again.
“Do not fear,” he said. “I shall arrange all. But you must be sure to do as I say. If you stay here...”
His voice trailed off. It seemed he was hiding the worst from her.
“But, wh-” She said.
“You must do as I say,” he said, putting emphasis on the last words. His eyes look crazed as he stared at her from across the table. She’d felt relaxed in his presence before, but a twinge of fright rose up in her now.
“The perils of this place,” he said. “You must understand. They extend beyond the city itself. Those who take up residence here... Even those who appear to be normal men. They are not to be trusted. This is a city of outcasts. Men made from deceit. They live on a myth. An unnatural myth of other kinds, one twisted with delusion.”
He rested his face in his palms and paused for so long that she had to speak.
“Other kinds?” she asked gently.
“Yes,” he said. “Several.”
She watched him intently, waiting for an elaboration.
“Kinds who come from another place,” he said, his eyes glazing. “They take many forms. Some are like.. animals, I suppose you could say. Or perhaps you might understand better by giving them the name demon. For they are not innocent like animals, they are another kind. But the oldest myth is of another kind entirely - one for whom no laws exist. For them a century is but the blinking of an eye. For them, every beast of the field and element of the earth lays down and pays homage.”
He stopped suddenly.
“But I fail at my own goal of keeping you ignorant,” he said, his tone self-deprecating. He watched her wearily, rubbed his face and went on.
“Few know this,” he continued. “For those who do know it first hand. Or they do not live long with the knowledge. Once you have descended into the dark city, you are marked. No matter if you are given knowledge or not, they shall come for you. And if you haven’t strength or proper protection, you shall not survive.”
He studied her closely for a reaction, looking truly worn, as if sharing the information had drained him. He seemed to have worked himself up into a fever, then plummeted down the other side from the heights. And it left him broken, defeated and afraid.
“He means to keep you,” he continued, his voice shaking weakly. “He means to. I should not wish for you to suffer such a fate as others have. Do you wish to stay here? Would you stay with a man who would risk your own destruction? Who would risk all that you have, your own life?”
Just then, there was a stirring in the hallway. Male voices and loud footsteps clambered down the hall towards her room. Daveye’s head shot up and he jumped to his feet in a panic, spinning round to look for an escape. Annabelle watched him scan the room, her body tensing fearfully as outside the door, a male voice yelled in rage, interacting with another. The voice was so hoarse and low it sounded like a beast roaring, and much like Blackall. She found her own mind racing and her heart beating fast. Perhaps Blackall had learned of her disappearance. Perhaps he was coming to punish her. Blackall was frightening enough when calm. She’d never wished to see him in a rage. Her hands shook as the doorknob was yanked on repeatedly, and the door slammed on.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!
The voice yelled on the other side of the door, as if calling men to unlock it. Her heart pounded quick and hard. The door was slammed on more and more, each impact causing her muscles to tense.
Looking up, she realized that Daveye was
gone. She scanned the room in shock, expecting to see his dark form hiding somewhere. But there was no sign of him. She hadn’t seen him go, nor heard it. Nor had she heard the telltale creaking of the secret door within the fireplace. Looking down, she saw a note on the table before her. On its top, in a quick scrawl, was written “Miss Morton.” As the clambering continued outside, she heard a key forced into the lock. She acted quickly, snatching the note and hiding it in her dress just as the door burst open.
CHAPTER 9
Shaken
Blackall stood in the doorway, red faced, eyes wild like a ravenous wolf. His dark hair lay in disheveled clumps on his shoulders and his fists clenched at his sides. He stormed inside, bashing through the room with heavy, pounding strides, flipping curtains, smashing cupboard doors open and even breaking a few trinkets in his search.
“WHERE IS HE?” He growled. “DAVEEYYEE! Daveye! Where are ye, ye filthy BASTARD!”
The anger in his voice felt like a strong gale rising up over a moor, rushing over her as he moved through the room, setting her teeth on edge. She sat frozen, clenching her seat with both hands and hoping to be passed over by his wrath. She even leaned back against the wall, hoping to become less visible. Blackall searched the corners and nooks over and over again. But there wasn’t much to the room. So before long, the urgency of his search faded and he turned his attention to her. Her body tensed as his steely eyes fixed on her, his chest heaving angrily as he watched her. Something burned behind his eyes, something terrible she didn’t wish to behold. The room seemed to close in. An oppressive silence fell. She flinched and braced for impact, each breath seeming to signal a sudden attack. The urge to flee tingled through her limbs.
He moved suddenly, and it spooked her. Before she knew what was happening, she’d let out a small shriek and bolted for the door. A strange, grunting scuffle ensued. Blackall had her in his vice grip before she’d taken three steps. She yelped and struggled in his arms, but he was too strong. He held her tighter the more she fought, her kicking and twisting only seemed to annoy him. For he shook her in his hands, then threw her down on the bed, pinning her down with his own weight as leverage. He pinioned her with his dense chest, the strength of his legs and his left hand. With his right hand he grasped her wrist. Fighting against her resistance, he pushed it up to the bed’s banister. All the while saying “quiet” and “hold still” as if quieting a spooked horse. But panic was pulsing through her now, and she continued to kick and twist against his hold. Yet he kept her trapped with little effort or exertion.
“Settle down now. Quiet,” was breathed into her ear as he pulled an old, ratty handkerchief out of his pocket and tied her wrist to the banister. She could feel his breath on her ear, filtered through her hair as he struggled to retrieve it. The warmth made her claustrophobic. She started kicking and twisting again, but he pushed his weight down and held them together, forcing her still, enraging her senses.
“Scoundrel!” She screamed.
The sound came out in a voice so angry and animalistic she hardly recognized it as her own. And it didn’t go over well with Blackall. He pulled back just enough to study her face, then slapped his rough hand over her mouth and held it there. She tried to bite it, but he was too quick. His eyes bulged angrily as he dodged her nip. With her free hand she tried to dislodge his grip over her mouth. Unsurprisingly, he was too strong. She squealed beneath his hand, her eyes bulging with rage. His chest was too hot on top of her, she couldn’t stand the heat and weight of him, so she squirmed desperately. Blackall looked down at her, his eyes scrutinizing and pitiless.
No doubt he’s enjoying this, she thought to herself bitterly.
He stared straight down into her eyes, holding his grip steady. She looked straight back, staring hard as her only means of defiance. After a time, she calmed beneath his grip. Her furious breathing slowed. Her anger abated. And his look appeared less hostile. She didn’t see vindictiveness in his eyes. They were heavily-lidded and devilish as he watched her, but not sadistic. Their blue was piercing, swimming in the dim firelight. She felt a deep calm come over her. Her body relaxed. And then he released her mouth.
“Kindly leave me go,” she snapped as soon as she had air.
“That’s enough,” he barked. “I don’t like to tie you. But when you carry on, I’ve no choice.”
Her resentment resurfaced. Had he not frightened her nearly to death? Was his behavior not the reason she’d bolted for the door? He’d tied her to a bed frame, held her down, confined her. Such behavior was outrageous, and yet he scolded her, insinuating that she had acted poorly.
“Are you to behave, now?” he asked her more softly.
Annabelle huffed angrily but said nothing; her resentment pumping in the rise and fall of her chest. Blackall lifted an eyebrow, then lifted himself off of the bed. He paced and shuffled about the room. He acted as if searching, but in a strange, distracted way; as if he was so lost in thought that his actions meant nothing. She’d forgotten Daveye in the tussle that just took place. She watched him peer over surfaces and around corners while she remained tied on the bed. Soon, his sharp footfalls carried him back to the bedside. He stood over her, bold as brass, icy eyes inspecting her restrained form.
“Where is the man who was here?” he asked in a level, authoritative voice.
She glared back in defiant silence. She was angry enough to chance his displeasure, simply for the sake of defying him. As she glared, stiff-lipped, he leaned over her menacingly. He was a bear compared to her. She couldn’t help it. Her mouth twitched and she wilted beneath his look, despite attempts not to falter. Blackall watched this, shifting on his feet impatiently and clenching his fists as if to curb an angry reaction.
“Miss Morton,” he said, “Tell me where the man went, and you shall be the better for it.”
She looked away, wanting to hold out as long as she could, trying to appear more annoyed than frightened. But he must be able to see her trembling. He waited another moment for a response. When he received none, he leaned closer, forcing eye contact. His form was solid and intimidating as it loomed over her. She held his glare for several moments. She was proud of herself for holding out so long. But in truth she was only able to do so because of the hypnotic quality of his gaze. She felt like a small, dazed animal fixed under his burning scrutiny. He leaned in until there were mere inches between their faces.
“If you defy me,” he said plainly, “I shall leave you here. Like that.”
His hair fell over his face as he watched her, his eyes shining darkly as he nodded his head toward her tied wrist.
“And in such a case,” he added. “I should be forced to tie the other as well.”
Daveye was the only kind, civilized person she’d encountered in the past seventy-two hours. He’d seemed sincere in his desire to help her. She hated to betray him. She would undergo suffering to protect a true friend. But she honestly didn’t know where he’d gone. Surely, revealing her ignorance could do Daveye no harm. And it would save her much trouble and pain in dealing with this brute. If she defied Blackall, she would suffer needlessly. She would be tied. Left. Interrogated. Then eventually forced to speak anyway. She wished to defy Blackall, yes; but she was no fool.
“I don’t know where he is,” She admitted bitterly. “He came and was gone while you beat upon the door.”
Blackall held sharp eye contact with her for a moment, as if to read the truth in her face. Then his gaze shifted away.
“How did he leave?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” She answered. “When I looked up, he’d gone.”
She tried to inject as much sincere confusion into her voice as possible, fearing he wouldn’t believe her. She knew it sounded like a lie, ironically enough. Blackall rubbed his chin a moment. To her surprise, he didn’t press the manner of Daveye’s escape.
“And what did he say to you?”
“Nothing, really,” she said. “He hadn’t the chance to say much at all.”
&
nbsp; “What did he say,” Blackall demanded, giving her another sharp look. “Tell me. Did he give you no... Instruction?”
“On how to escape?” Annabelle asked indignantly. “No.”
Blackall flinched as if he might attack her again. But the movement faded quickly.
“Not on how to escape,” He growled.
“Then upon what subject?” She asked, her confusion surfacing.
Blackall didn’t answer. He closed the distance between them, leaning over her again until there was barely space between their faces.
“If you’re lying again,” He said, his voice ominous, “I shall be very displeased.”
He held her locked in his glare. When she shifted her gaze away, he followed it, blocking her in to make a point. He stood before her like this until his point had been made.
“Tis the truth,” she said haughtily, her voice shaking. “Though I’m sure a savage like yourself would think very little of tying up a young woman and leaving her, though she’d done naught to harm you!”
Blackall didn’t flinch, nor did his gaze leave her face. His eyes dilated with blazing annoyance. He pulled back from her, his jaw stiffening. He crossed the room in calm, muted steps. Then suddenly, punched a small mirror that leaned against the wall, breaking the glass with a smash, shattering millions of little shards onto the already filthy floor.
How could I have been such a fool, she thought, chastising herself inwardly. Surely, I’m next. He stayed across the room for a few moments with his back turned. She watched nervously, sure he’d charge at any moment. She thought to try untying herself. Perhaps she could defend herself from a blow if she did. Though she knew that if he decided to harm her, there would be little hope against such a man.
After a few moments passed in silence, Blackall walked back to the bed. Without looking her in the eye, he untied her wrist. Then, he walked back to the fireplace and sat calmly in one of the armchairs. He watched the fire while Annabelle sat up slowly, rubbing her wrist and watching him with cautious, confused eyes. She didn’t understand. Time passed without event. She dared movement, touching her hair and straightening her skirts.
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