Rabbit Blood

Chapter 58 - Good Enough For Jazz

Leslie could only see Alastor's legs. They were oddly stiff as he stood there, facing Rosie. Was it fear? Real fear? She knew he was avoiding Rosie, but whatever for?

"Ahem," Rosie said, frostily.

He hesitated. "Hello, Turnip!" he called with conservative cheer.

"Save it."

"Ah, now, listen-"

"DON'T-!" she interrupted, and Alastor obediently shut up. He was about to be told off and he knew it. "Where do you get the nerve?" Rosie asked, still poised outside the red-bricked alley. "Where do you get it? Do you have any idea how shriekingly alone I have been?" Her voice peaked with sudden anger. "Only shadows for company, my sweetpea! And where have you been? What have you been up to, or should I say what else?"

No response from Alastor, and Leslie opened her mouth a little, to let a mingled blood cocktail leak out of her mouth, to stop herself throwing up. Don't think about it. Disgusting. Inhuman. Don't think about it.

"Nothing to say?" Rosie challenged. "This thing...!" She threw something to the floor, and as it landed silently, Leslie imagined it was the handkerchief. "How closely you two are... acquainted on it! Quite useless for my purposes unless you're together, and now finally, I find you sticking something down her fucking throat!"

Alastor flinched and stepped backwards, and in that moment, the black spikes retracted. Leslie squeaked as she hit the floor.

"WHY??" Rosie screeched.

Still stiff-legged, Alastor cleared his throat and answered. "Turnip, unlike you, she's in two minds about me. It was a game. And I wanted to eat her. That's all!" he promised. "It's done."

"Helk me," Leslie said, struggling onto her elbows.

"Shut up," Rosie warned, and Leslie could see her now, shaking and pointing her parasol. Then she tilted her head, parsing the plea for help. "But keep what you have in your mouth."

"Turnip."

"Scared, Alastor? Leave us! I'll let you go!"

Leslie and Alastor exchanged a glance. There was something hateful in his eyes, as though he was dying to drop a piano on her... but there was uncertainty as well.

"Of course not!" Rosie laughed bitterly. "Oh, fuzzy one! Do you know what happens when a demon consents to be eaten by someone lesser?"

"Rosie-"

"I know what happens," the eyeless horror sang, and she turned back to Alastor, or his general direction anyway. "And I'm sorry it was so... offensive to you, sweetpea. Giving you what you wanted!"

Alastor cleared his throat again. "We both did dreadful things-"

"Ah, yes! But the difference is, I let you have your ill-gotten freedom in the end. You can never give me back what I have lost!" Rosie said, blinking her hollow eyes. Then Alastor moved backwards and she screeched again,

"Take another step towards her, and I'll wring enough blood from you to ink a message your mother can read from the heavens!"

In spite of herself, Leslie shrunk into a ball. It didn't matter that she wasn't the subject of such rage; it was scary nonetheless. As for Alastor, he froze, ramrod straight now, his arms raised.

He wouldn't be distracted for long.

When Leslie got onto her hands and knees to make a break for it, Alastor moved his hand, cutting Leslie's throat with an invisible blade. She panicked, bringing both hands to her neck, as he strode away towards his old friend. Shadows billowed out of nowhere, but Rosie was prepared, tapping her parasol as her own army of blackness reared behind her.