The Voice Of The Voiceless

by S A Tedman

  They nodded to Victoria, who smiled at them and stepped aside. This was none of her business.

  “Mrs. Delroy, it is wonderful to see you here,” said the largest and definitely the most handsome of the two. He smiled, kissing her hand, and let his lips linger a little longer than necessary on her soft skin.

  Elisabeth laughed.

  “Oh Antoine, do stop the tease. And yes, it is nice to see you too.”

  He brought out a file from the inside pocket of his leather coat and handed it to her.

  “Here is the file, and photos from this past week. Who she has been with, for how long. She's a sneaky one this Marie, she’s been arrested seven times over the past year, and she’s actually supposed to be supervised, but she manages to leave the hospital at least once a day. We have no idea how she does it, and no one else does, either. She always goes to the same place: a greenhouse, open to the public, but she goes into the inner sanctum which is for authorised personnel only.”

  “Any idea what she does in there?”

  He shrugged.

  “Talks to herself, mostly. She walks a lot, but doesn’t eat much, even for a tiny Mortal.”

  “What else can you tell me about her?”

  “Everything is in the file. Background and last known address. She doesn't have any friends or family. She’s the lonely type, it seems.”

  “Poor child. Okay. Thank you, Antoine. I’ll read this as soon as possible. Don't go too far: I might still need you.”

  Antoine raised his eyebrows and looked at his companion.

  “We weren’t planning on leaving, Elisabeth. You are far from the Academy, and we do not have a sanctuary here.”

  “Where have you set up the safe house?”

  “Near the Lac de la Cavayère.”

  “I am not familiar with that place,” she frowned.

  “Artificial lake, built in 88. It's safe, well, the forest surrounding it is, for the moment.”

  “Good. Then we will meet you there when we are done.”

  The men nodded and left.

  “What now?” asked Victoria, as they made their way to the hospital entrance.

  “We go in, and find the girl.”

  Victoria let Elisabeth go to the front desk on her own. Everybody knew the Headmistress was good at convincing people and she watched in amusement as her friend started chatting up one of the nurses. Before long, she had the girl’s room number and special permission to see her despite visiting hours having just ended.

  “I love seeing you convince random people to sell you their kidney,” Victoria chuckled as they waited for the elevator.

  “It's all in the purr,” Elisabeth winked.

  That and the fact that she had the ability to render people docile when she spoke, like an auditory GHB. It didn’t last long, but it was extremely useful.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Victoria inquired as Elisabeth sifted through the big file Antoine had given her.

  They had arrived in the maternity ward and were looking at her through a window which didn't allow any kind of privacy for the patient inside.

  They had been quick to find Marie, lying on a simple bed and turned towards the outside window. She was terribly thin and the baby growing inside made her seem unnaturally distorted.

  “She wanted to get rid of it.”

  “Well, it's good that she didn't. It's good she fought for the baby.”

  “No,” Elisabeth shook her head as she read the file, “it says here she tried to terminate the pregnancy, but the procedure didn't work. By the time she realised it, it was too late. She tried other more extreme methods and was forcefully interned in a psychiatric ward. She was released into this maternity only to give birth but will then be sent back.”

  There was a silence.

  “So the child is to be adopted? Those are her wishes?”

  “I had Antoine deal with the paperwork.”

  “How old is she? Doesn't she have any parents?”

  The Headmistress sighed and closed the folder, tucking it under her arm.

  “Antoine did his research well. He actually went far beyond what was asked of him. It's the usual sad story: single mother brought her up, turned to prostitution to survive, got beat up one day by one of her clients, went to the hospital but disappeared leaving her daughter to fend for herself. Marie got tossed through foster families until she was sixteen. She got pregnant and got kicked out, officially because she was a troublemaker who got herself pregnant by her boyfriend. Unofficially though, it was the foster family's fault. The elder brother raped her. The family covered for him and kicked her out.”

  Victoria shook her head.

  “Wonderful. If things were different, I would take care of the family myself.”

  “I know, but that is not why we are here.”

  Elisabeth could feel Victoria’s anger, and she patted her shoulder.

  “Are you alright?”

  “What about the girl? Can’t you take her in after the birth?” Victoria asked, ignoring her question.

  She smiled sadly and shook her head.

  “She’s not going to survive.”

  “Oh right, you told me this already. It's just hard to imagine when I see her there lying down. And the way you say it, you sound so certain, how do you know exactly?”

  “I just know.”

  “She looks very weak and tired.”

  Elisabeth rechecked the file.

  “Yes. She is.”

  They fell silent again as they were both reminded of just how unfair the world was. Elisabeth wondered if Victoria was thinking of breaking one of the Fold’s fundamental laws and using magic to cure a human for personal reasons.

  Victoria brightened suddenly and put her fist against the window.

  “Well, if I have time after the adoption goes through, I can at least take care of the rapist. Nothing too horrendous. A little spell maybe? Something to make his life miserable - I could make his cock permanently limp, for example. I'm sure I can think of something.”

  Elisabeth chuckled.

  “I've always liked just how ruthless you are, but I think Antoine will beat you to it. He has a specific… taste for rapists. He said he was staying in the area for us, but I've known him for a while now. He'll be waiting for us to leave and will take care of this himself.”

  They watched as the girl turned to face them.

  She somehow didn't look as miserable as before, on the contrary, and she smiled at them, her thin lips practically white as they mouthed a thank you, waving at them weakly.

  “Do you think she heard us?” asked Victoria, taken aback.

  “She isn't an Immortal, but she is special, what with the child she’s carrying. It's quite possible she did. And if that's the case, I'm sorry I said anything.”

  She was only half surprised, but even so, they should have been more careful.

  “Don't be. She seems relieved.”

  Elisabeth, on the other hand, was not relieved at all. She felt sad for the young girl, with her sunken cheeks, pale complexion and big brown eyes. She wished she could do more than just wait, but Marianne and Charles would be flying in the next morning to pose as the adoptive family, and she was anxious for it all to end. Not because of the importance of the child, but because her instinct was begging for her to leave and return to the Academy.

  Dammit, it must be the second sign.

  “Are you alright?”

  Elisabeth opened her eyes and realised she was using the wall to hold herself up.

  “Yes. Let's call it a night. We’ll pop over to the airport and grab your future daughter and son in law tomorrow morning. We’ll head over to the safe house by the lake for now. Knowing Antoine, he'll have done up a cosy bed for us, and we can end this. I’m starving! As for the child, we shouldn't have long to wait. I heard one of the nurses say the girl is to be induced by the end of the week if she hasn’t gone into labour on her own.”

  Victoria nodded, and they left.

 
“She doesn't smell special,” sniffed Marianne.

  The two women had picked up the child's future parents and had gone to the hospital the next morning to check up on the mother.

  Victoria went inside directly to chat with Marie who seemed very happy with the distraction. She was sitting upright in the bed today, and Elisabeth was too polite to eavesdrop. Instead, she was waiting outside with her two agents, looking in through the window.

  “And what does “special” smell like?” she asked apathetically.

  “Oh, I don't know… like hot chocolate on a cold winter's night maybe? Or eggnog on Christmas morning, with spicy gingerbread to go with it.”

  Elisabeth turned to Marianne, whose eyes were cold and empty.

  Perhaps it was a bad idea to leave a child in her care.

  No, Victoria would help out. It would be fine.

  The Headmistress sighed.

  “She might not smell like anything in particular, but the boy in her belly will be more “special” than any individual you have ever encountered. He probably won't smell of hot chocolate or eggnog either, but he is a saviour to our people and what he will do when he comes of age will be a lot nicer than winter beverages.”

  There was a small silence as Elisabeth turned back to look at Marie.

  “I'm just warning you, I loathe children. They are so… dependent.”

  “Yes, I know Marianne, and that is exactly why I picked you.”

  “And in the meantime, Ma'am?” Charles asked, visibly nonplussed by their exchange.

  “We continue to fight. We continue to protect our people, and we continue to hope that more will join our cause.”

  “Not many of us left, ma'am,” he sniffed, as he placed his hand on the window leaving a dirty mark.

  “I know,” the Headmistress paused, wondering how a man of his age still hadn’t managed to master the most basic rules of hygiene, “but it won't be long now until things start looking up.”

  “We just need a win,” he muttered, looking disheartened.

  “This child is our win.”

  With those words, Elisabeth gave a tap on the window, indicating to Victoria that it was time to leave.

  “They have a Sniffer in the hospital!” Elisabeth snarled, her voice sounding almost inhuman.

  They had taken the elevator downstairs, but the man she was referring to was leaning against the wall between them and the doors to the parking lot outside.

  “What are we supposed to do?” chorused the two agents whose fear had become apparent immediately.

  “You two, go straight to the safe house near the lake. Take the back door. Victoria and I will take care of him,” she ordered, her voice unchanged.

  She clenched her fists and her fingers cracked. Marianne and Charles didn’t hesitate; they had already left by the time Victoria turned around to check on them.

  “Beth,” she said softly, looking at her friend pleadingly.

  “What is it?”

  “Please, Elisabeth,” she begged, placing her hand on her shoulder, trying to connect with her intimately. “Go with them. We can't lose you.”

  “You won't. I'm not leaving you alone with him.”

  “You must. I am untouchable. You know my relationship with Lord Daemon protects me.”

  “You came here unofficially. You have neither the proper documents nor an invitation. You are in as much danger as I am.”

  “I can deal with him. I think I recognise him, in fact. I have training, and you are more important to the cause than any of us put together. Please.”

  Elisabeth unclenched her fists and nodded. Victoria blinked, and she was gone, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hospital corridor.

  Victoria was a traitor.

  She had always been a traitor.

  She would always be a traitor.

  She was born in the late 1800’s, although she couldn’t say when or where exactly as she’d ended up on the streets of London at a very early age. As a child, she’d begged for leftover bread as a way to survive the day, and later on, she’d learnt how to fend for herself using her good looks and keen intellect. She’d learnt how to read and write thanks to Sunday school - the pastor was a kind man who’d let her sit through the lessons and had even tutored her when he knew he could get away with it.

  She was a stunningly beautiful teenager, and many men had asked her for sexual favours in exchange for the world, but she’d valued her dignity more, and although times had often been tough, she made it through them, knowing she was tougher.

  One snowy February afternoon, however, hungrier than usual and her beggar days behind her, (she had turned to thieving as a means to an end) she decided to pick on a very special prey.

  She had spotted him sitting outside a restaurant alone and guessed he was single, or at least could be prone to her charms, as she felt somehow that he was lonely. She had taught herself to recognise loneliness, perhaps because her prey was easier to seduce or maybe she hadn’t taught herself at all, but simply recognised in others the familiar feeling. She watched him further and realised that this lonely man was also incredibly handsome.

  He must have been of a certain age, too, although she wasn’t quite sure what that age was, as his hair was as white as the snow that fell upon it, but his features polished and dainty, without a wrinkle or crease.

  He seemed uncomfortable sitting there in his suit, buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket over and over again, folding and unfolding the newspaper in his hands, puffing away at a cigarette as he drank his tea.

  It was extremely cold that day, and everyone had chosen to stay indoors, but not him, to the dismay of the waiter, who could be seen cursing under his breath every time he had to leave the warmth of the restaurant to attend this very unusual customer.

  This had piqued her curiosity, and she thought she would use her charms to swipe his watch. Maybe a peck on the cheek would allow her enough reach to grab his purse.

  Victoria was a good thief, an excellent one, even. In fact, she had built up quite a reputation of her prowess, so much so that she had been approached many times by street gangs, head bullies, and other bad people who wished to employ her. She had refused them all, and when one particularly nasty piece of man, small in size with a face that smiled a little too much, had told her that if she declined his offer, she would end up in the gutter with her throat slit, well, she’d slit his instead, without an ounce of regret.

  After that, people left her alone, and she had returned to petty theft and pickpocketing, just enough to get by, but not enough to get into too much trouble. Most of the men she targeted were married, and it was difficult for them to admit to either police or wife that they had let a beautiful young lady come close enough to steal from them. Thus most of her crimes went unreported, and that was exactly how she liked it.

  She approached him curiously, wondering how it was possible he could withstand such low temperatures, without even the hint of a shiver. The streets were empty, save for the occasional Rolls-Royce that would drive past them slowly, or the on-duty policeman, his head tucked deep into his collar as he patrolled.

  “May I ask you for a light, sir?” she smiled at him, using her special sultry voice.

  “Of course my lady,” he said, putting down his newspaper at once and bringing out a little matchbox from his pocket, “and if you would please have a seat and keep me company during my afternoon tea, I would be honoured.”

  He stood up and walked up to the seat in front of her, pulling out the chair, as he returned her smile.

  “Thank you,” she accepted graciously. He dusted off the snow from her chair and tucked it in under her, lighting the match with a swift move.

  She could do with some tea, she thought, after all, she was cold, and it was gone four o'clock. Just because she was a criminal, it didn't mean she had no manners.

  “Please, take my coat,” the man said, removing it and placing it over her shoulders.

  For once, she wasn’t sure how to respond and
realised she would probably not have the upper hand in their exchange. He was even more handsome from up close, and his voice was deliciously hypnotic, captivating her every sense. Thieving required a clear mind and hers was definitely becoming misty.

  She would have to be careful, so she chose not to speak, instead watching him as he ordered a plate of biscuits and a new pot of tea from the disgruntled waiter.

  He was so different from the men she had encountered before, and she wondered if what she felt at that precise moment was love, or merely the lust of a woman who had finally met her equal.

  “Are you sure you are not cold?” she asked, feeling guilty.

  Why was she feeling guilty? She was going to rob the man!

  “I am fine, and even if I weren’t, I would rather see your cheeks splashed with colour than suffer a moment of comfort knowing you are not at ease.”

  “You speak like a poet.”

  She smiled again, breathing in the perfume that lightly imbued his coat. It was soft and lined with fur, probably worth more than what she could steal in a year.

  “It is a beautiful coat.”

  “Only because it is worn by you. If I may return the compliment, and be so bold as to suggest that your dress was made for my eyes only, for sapphire blue is by far my favourite colour.”

  With such kind words, she wondered if perhaps, for once, she should use her charms on him and let him seduce her a little, and maybe, just maybe, steal from him only after they had shared a more intimate moment.

  She looked up at him slowly from under her long eyelashes, letting the steam from her tea warm her face as she waited before taking a sip, biting down delicately on her lower lip.

  He crossed his legs and swallowed as discreetly as he could, but she had noticed and knew, now, that he was not impervious to her methods. She blew on her cup, heaving her chest with a little sigh of pleasure.

  He wouldn’t last a minute.

  He suddenly threw his head back and laughed, the sound painting the streets with sunlight, throwing her completely off guard. Only when he had finished did he look back at her with his dark, knowing eyes.