+1+
It was 12:30 when she finally appeared in the main lobby. She was out of breath, her hand securely fastened to her daughter. I had not expected her to bring the girl with her however at the same time I knew to keep our communication brief, just as our time together would be.
"I'm sorry, Rosalie was being difficult"
Her eyes were dark and red and I gathered that she had just woken up. I imagined her lie had something to do with her nightmares but I reminded myself that that was none of my concern.
"We don't want to be late"
"Of course", she agreed and opened the door to the silent street. "Are you sure we can trust Mr. Essex"
"No", I said honestly
"Why are you then"
"Because I have nothing to lose"
"But I do", she said quietly
We continued to walk, the direction of the shop burned in my memory from the map I had studied earlier. After a while I began to watch Ms. DeLune and Rosalie closely as we walked down the uneven, narrow and seemingly endless London streets.
The pair walked a few steps ahead of me, her tiny heels making a distant sound as they hit the ground,Ms. DeLune kept her eyes low, occasionally looking at something across the street but otherwise she kept looking ahead. It wasn’t until we turned another corner that I realized what was very strange about the two.
Rosalie was leading her mother along, almost as if she were attached from a string. The girl was always one step ahead and ever so often she would tug for her mother to walk faster and she did, when the girl would slow down so would she.
This continued for quite a while, however I soon began to notice the surroundings. The city was becoming quieter the streets began to become more empty and we were approaching an area with numerous closed shop fronts, drifters and what appeared to be lost tourist.
I stopped along a wooden footbridge, there were a series of small rundown shops in the distance. A single sign pointed the way to Coral st. I could see the bookshop in the distance.
Ms. DeLune peered over the bridge, loose strands of her hair blowing in the wind. Below was what must have been a lake had been entirely paved over in concrete, she started down almost as if transfixed.
"We're close", I said prompting her to walk forward.
She nodded and followed. The bookshop was the only building not bordered to the ceiling, there was a small metal engraved sign that hung from the entrance.. The windows were covered in dust leaving nothing to be seen from the outside.
The door was heavily weighted, the interior was octagonal shaped and filled with bookshelves along the perimeter. Each shelf was filled with old hardcover books, they appeared to be in color rather than alphabetic order. Hues of red and dark green were at the bottom followed by black and deep blues.
A bell chimed as we entered it made me recall the sign on the bookshop in New York, but I thought nothing of it.
The center of the room was empty except for a set of long tables for reading and studying. A few steps from the entrance was a woman behind a desk, she looked up as we entered but did not speak.
“I’m here to see Mr. Essex. . . about the shop”
“You're early”, she said, I recognized her voice from the telephone.
"I wanted to be sure he was here"
"Just a minute" She said walking back towards an office whose large windows were covered by a dark purple curtain.
Ms. DeLune and Rosalie had begun to look at a section of childrens books, I tried to catch her attention but she was listlessly watching her daughter.
"Essex will see you now", the woman said taking her seat back at the desk.
Essex's office was modern and far more extravagant than the bookshop. Each corner of his desks and shelves were filled with trinkets in no particular order. I saw pictures of Sivanada along his desk and I wonder if he knew about the plight of the people there.
The man called Essex was seated behind his desk, he was dressed casually with a full beared and small eyes hidden behind a pair of large glasses. Despite his modest appeal the man appeared to be intimidating. His expression changed to a light hearted one.
"You're not here about buying the shop, are you", he said with full confidence
"No"
“Well then I’ve been very interested to meet you for a long time, his voice sounded young
“The pleasure is all mine”, I said, "Though, you knew I was coming"
"I think I did. All I know for sure is we were supposed to meet."
"How is that possible."
"Past, present, future it is all irrelevant to them", his eyes cast upwards in no particular direction.
"Who is them ?"
“Let me see your hand”, he said suddenly
I gave him my right hand,He turned my palm over running a hand over it
“You don’t have a life line”, he said quizzically
“nonsense”
“if you thought this nonesence you wouldn’t be here”
"Mr. Essexs,This is about the book you wrote 20 years ago. The ideas are original. Where did you get them from. So much detail and confidence."
"It's all speculation",he said
"I'd rather not continue this game. I just want to know if you can help me with a Spectre ?"
"Such evil things you speak of, not the most evil but still", he shuddered and moved from behind his desk.
"There must be something you can do to help."
"Where I get my information from has been silence for years. . . besides I can't trust you"
"Why is that ?", I asked wondering if I should get my checkbook
He walked around the large desk and opened the blinds and pulling back the curtain. For a while he glanced over the shop.
Essex walked along his office opening each window and peering out it for some time before continuing to the next window.
“You are to close to such evil things”
"Not by choice", I said regarding Lucie.
"You had a choice", he said
“Pardon me ?”
Essex hoevered by the door as he walked past me there was a faint smell of alcohol and I began to wander if the man was a drunk.
“Something evil is in my shop. . . ", he said
“You must be mistaken”
“Men are always blind to their own ghost”, his voice filled with sudden anger.
The glass window cracked down the center and the entire shop was filled with a piercing scream. It was her.
Rosalie followed by her mother.
Essex opened the door to his office, the undeniable smell of burned flesh wafted in from the shop. A large book shelf had toppled over the sending books haphazardly tossed across the floor.
Rosalie was crying and clasping her right hand, Ms. DeLune appeared concerned about her but the minute Ms. DeLune's eyes meet Essex's there was a slight air of recognition.
“The girl”, Essex whispered and in an instant he was at the girl’s side attempting to violently to pull her away from her mother.
“leave her alone”, Ms. DeLune had her daughter other hand pulling her away from the man . Essex was no more than six feet tall, he was strong and steady. However in a manner of seconds he had been forced across the room, crashing into one of his own book shelves causing rows of hardbacks to fall on him.
I rushed over to Essex as his assistant attempted to move the heavy books. The room shook slightly and another row of books feel on top of him.
We quickly dug him out, his glasses were smashed and cut into his skin.
"That child", he said trying to push away from the pile of books, his face had been bludgned by the hard coveres "You. . . you can't. .. let that kind of thing live. . . You can't.. ."
"What ? what is it ?"
"You want to be saved ? You want answers."
"Yes"
"Then you can't let her live. . .You have to kill the girl and save both of yourselves."
Ms. DeLune's reasoning had been almost correct. It was not by chance we had met it was fate. Victor was not to kill her daughter in 3 days.
I was.
+2+
I heard the ambulance in the distance and left the shop following Ms. DeLune down the street. She was walking very fast and at the next corner placed her daughter down and began chiding for her to keep up, but the girl stopped in the middle of the footbridge and continued staring at her burnt hand
When Ms. DeLune realized Rosalie had not followed her I had caught up them. Even from a distance it was obvious that the little girl’s hand was severely burned as if she had touched fire.
“Stay away from me. . . from us”, she said peering at the eroded concrete below the bridge, "That man is Insane"
“What happened to her hand”
“She must have touched a candle”
"I certainly don't recall any candles”
“Well, there must have. . . I doubt. . . well”, She looked up at me, she was lying just as she had earlier, “It must have been an allergic reaction because she touched… a book”
“Was it a bible ?
“Honestly, how can you say such things.”
“Essex believes there was something. . . . not right about her.”
“As I already said he is insane.”
“Is he ? She scares you doesn’t she”
“Shut up”. I wondered if she was afraid the girl could hear her.
“Listen to me, Ms. DeLune”
She turned away attempting to control her anger or to divulge further into her own denial
I don’t know what came over me, but I suddenly wanted to prove it to her, or more so I wanted to prove it to myself that Essex was right. I just needed the girl. She sensed I had taken hold of her daughter and immediately reached for the girl again and took her back.
“leave us alone”, she attempted to strike and push me away and some ill placed rage inside of me became very angry.
I suddenly had both of her frail wrist in my hand, I could feel the bones beneath the thin skin move and contract as I grasped her harder.
That was a trigger and she instantly began to fight back attempting to push me farther and farther away and over the bridge, the heel of her shoe digging into mine. The rusted railing of the bridge began digging through my jacket if I were to lose my balance I would certainly fall to my death.
Self preservation however had the advantage and I forcefully pushed her away from me, she lost her balance and hit the other side of the bridge, it happened so quickly that her daughter rushed to prevent her mother from falling , however she didn’t see the girl behind her. They both fell on to the hard cobblestone footbridge.
Unfortunately Ms. DeLune's fall knocked Rosalie over the edge and of the bridge, silently the girl slipped and disappeared over the railing and 45 feet down below.
Ms. DeLune's eyes were wide, she looked very ill her eyes closed when she heard the cement below crack underneath the girl's weight.
"Oh, God", she whispered
I began or tried to speak but words were lost to me.
Ms. DeLune dragged herself on her knees till she was able to stand up, the stones had cut deep marks into her knees. She attempted to walk a few steps before balancing herself and walking with wounded knees to the ground below.
I should have followed her but I didn't--couldn't. Could it have really been that simple ? Should I not have felt guilt or shame at the least disgusted with myself ? Although it had been an accident. . .hadn't it ?
I forced myself to look from the top of the bridge at the small undefined body of the girl lying below. She had fallen on her back her face covered in blood. I simply could not tear my eyes away from her. The more I concentrated on her I could see the girl's eyes blinked in a steady mechanical rhythm.
No.
Absured
Impossible
Her strangely colored eyes blinked again and her hand began to rub them, as if she had awoken from a nap and not a deathly fall.
Carefully she lifted her upper body and turned to open her arms to her tear stained mother.
I immediately went back to the bookshop and found Essex's assistant still helplessly trying to unbury him from the weight of the books. He didn't appear surprised that I had come back.
"Tell me what you know", I pleaded
Essex eyed his assistant whom unwilling stepped away.
"I told you what I know. . . you must kill that thing that appears to be a human child"
"Why ?"
"I don't know"
"Who tells you these things ?"
"He used to", Essex pointed to a small portrait of a man above the book shelves, I recognized the figure as Victor's uncle, "not anymore though. . . he has been silent for so long. . . now I just see things and usually they happen."
"What else have you seen ?"
"All I know is her death will make you and the mother very happy", he went in and out of consiounes, "hand me that box",
Essex's indicated a cherry oak box on the top shelf.
With only his legs now constrained by the books he opened the box sliding out a silver derringer pistol, which he pressed into my hands.
I was hesitant and he caught on.
"You have questions, Mr. Fierro this is your answer.. . "
"There must be another way"
"Let her die", he said
Before I could ask another question the shelf he was supporting himself on fell with full force on him. He groaned beneath the shelf his hand reaching for the surface.
" You must go. . . go", Essex voice as muffled beneath the heavy shelf, " You're running out of time"
The bright lights of the ambulance shone trough the dusty windows, his assistant beckoned me out the back door.
The weight of the pistol was heavy in my pocket, time however was beginning to weigh more.
+3+
ClaraI was out of breath when I reached the sidewalk down below, the streets were once again empty and no one had seen her fall and that was what I kept repeating to myself.
No one saw her fall.
What fall ?
She hadn't fallen
Yes, that would do.
I had already taken a handkerchief from my purse and began dabbing the blood away from her face, in case anyone were to walk by.
I was shaken and looked up to the now empty bridge she had fallen from. It was so high and yet she appeared just .. . fine ?
No that it mattered because she had not fallen.
“Mommy”, she said, “my hand still hurts”
"I know", I said.
I picked her up and carried her back up the steps towards the street above. In the short trip back up she had fallen asleep against my shoulder. I kept my eyes on the ground. The weight of a sleeping Rosalie on my hip was weighing on me, along with my scratched knees. Once we crossed the empty bridge I realized I was lost.
It took nearly an hour for me to find my way back to the hotel, most of the time I was lost in thought.
Once arriving at the St.Mark I wanted to go to back to my hotel room and hope this was some terrible dream, everything about that terrible bookshop seems to have resonated with me. I had recognized this Mr. Essex as the man from the museum. The man was clearly obsessed with Bordeaux family, it was no wonder they told him things.
The spines of the books he had given me matched the ones in the shop, but for some reason I couldn't pull myself away.
I didn't feel like carrying Rosalie up the hotel stairs so I settled for sitting outside in the small garden in the outside atrium of the hotel. Rosalie was still asleep and I ordered chamomile tea, hoping it would calm me down.
After a while I heard someone approach me from behind. I didn't look up as Mr. Fierro sat across from me. He noticed Rosalie was still with me but sat across from me anyway. I turned away as he began to speak. He placed both hands on the table and kept waiting for me to look up at him, but I never did.
“Ms. DeLune do you not feel there is something different about your daughter.”
“No”, I said defensively.
“She scares you doesn’t she ? You know there is something wrong”, he appeared to be choosing his words carefully.
“Stop it”
“She fell off a bridge for godsakes, she should have died”
“I don’t know what you are talking about”
“Why are you being so defensive ?”
I could feel the tears beginning to form, I tried to hold it in but my emotions were to true.
“She’s my child”, I said
"That is irrelevant--"
“Not it's not. She’s the only child I’ll ever have. I'm supposed to protect her from everything, she is my only chance.”
He looked to me for an explanation and I calmly explained
“My family wanted my baby born at home, everything was fine at first. . . but there were terrible complications."
I started to feel physically ill just remembering the terrible night I had giving birth to her, A small part of me was glad I would never have to go through it again but at the same time it made me feel so empty inside. I was more than capable of loving another child, or at least a second chance at carrying one.
I looked over at Rosalie's perfectly unbruised skin, dust from the cement was still stuck to her tights and dress.
If there were to be something wrong, what do you think is wrong with my daughter, Mr. Fierro”
“Essexs wasn't specific but I have been doing some thinking. Perhaps It’s not her. Perhaps it is what she is ?”
I considered his words as Rose began to stir in her sleep, I was certain she would not wake for at least another hour.
“What is she then ?”
“Not human maybe, not entirely”, he waited for me to speak, I remained silent, “Your silence betrays you, you’ve had your suspicions.”
"No”, I said quietly.
For the first time he seemed to be considering his words closely.
“She appears half alive. . . half human. . . half Spectre, perhaps ?”
Not once did his emotions betray him.
“I-I don’t see how”, I said into my tea
“Of course you wouldn’t”,
I kept my eyes down, I didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“Sometimes”, he began to look more aimlessly in front of him,”sometimes I see her at random moments just standing there starting at me. . . watching me. .. it’s like this dead thing is following me.”
He took a breath and faced me.
“She seems so real to me, not like when we were together though . . . before and after. . . but close. She is always either too young or too old for my memories.”
He took another breath and blinked realizing he had gotten off topic and continued.
“What I mean to say is Lucie is real. Ghost are real and often times I can feel her lay against my shoulder or her hand on mine. It’s very light but I wouldn’t deny the power of such para-physical touch. “ at his last words his fingers slightly grazed my lips before pulling away.
“How can you be so plain with me ?”, I asked my voice shaking
“I can be very blunt as well, perhaps this is why Victor wants her dead, Family curse as it were”
“I don't want to talk about this anymore”
“Denial is worthless, Ms. DeLune”
“I beg to differ”
"Is that how you live now ? In denial of everything"
"You really are one to speak. I don't want to talk about this"
"I'm simply trying to make this easier on you, to help you see that--"
"I don't want to hear this"
I was suddenly on my feet, carrying Rose back inside hotel. I didn’t want to listen anymore. Unlike Mr. Fierro I knew I could not rely on anyone else to solve my problems for me.
+++
I put on some Mozart and began to inspect Rosalie’s burnt hand. I placed some ice on it and wrapped it in gauze. The mark had spread over her entire balm and touched her finger but at least she wasn't in pain. She was still asleep, her ink black curls lay flat on one of the cream colored pillows on the bed. She had slept through the entire day and I was afraid the pain medication I had given her was a little strong.
She looked like absolute angel while she slept curling up with her doll.
I had heard the door next to us open and close some time around eight but didn’t give it much thought.
Rosalie was mine. She was my daughter, my responsibility and I decided nothing and certainly no one else mattered.
In my mind I had already planned for the two of us to leave tomorrow morning. We could go somewhere far away where no one would be able to find us.
I just had to find out where that place was
My heart, I decided would be less heavy now that I knew he was still alive but I knew for my own sanity that it would be best for us to part for good. I thought about leaving a letter or short note explaining my departure but the words wouldn't come.
I thought about going home, but it was always the last place I wanted to be. There had to be some place complelty off the grid where Rosalie and I could just be.
“Mommy ?”, Rosalie sat up suddenly, looking slightly less angelic.
“Go back to sleep, Rose"
“Who will take care of me when you die ?”
This again.
“By that time you will be old enough to take care of your self”
“No I won’t”, she shouted sliding away from me climbing down from the bed
I decided to ignore her and took her spot on the bed, she was going to be up all night now.
“Tell me”, she shouted again
"Rose, I'm trying to get some sleep. We have to leave in the morning."
There was a crash and I smelled the thick odor of my new perfume, followed by what sounded like the mirror cracking.
“Rose”, I shouted
I bolted up and she had taken one of the books I had borrowed from. . . Essex. . . and thrown it at the mirror followed by another.
I pulled her away from the dresser, I expected her to bite me instead she grabbed a loose strand of my hair and began to tear out strands. I pushed her away I felt myself scrap her and I bumped into the dresser.
“Rosalie stop it”, I was begging her now.
Her face was covered in blood again
I was at my wits end and to be honest a little terrified. I grabbed her and tried to force her into the coat closet when I felt the familiar pain of her teeth tearing into my skin.I couldn't handle this especially after today. I slipped put of the room shutting and locking the door behind me.
One and a half very quick shots of scotch later I could still hear Rosalie breaking things in the room. The other half of the scotch still splashed around in the warm glass in my hand. I was trapped between my violent daughter or the overbearing bartender downs stairs.
I leanded against the wall and listened to her break more items. My hand reached for the door to my room but it ended up knocking on the one next door.
"Are you ready to be honest ?", his voice was clear and almost soothing. through the other side of the door.
"You want to know my secrets. . . I will tell you. Everything"
Then tomorrow, I'll be gone.