Mad Honey

Chapter Three

After inconspicuously hauling his limp body out of an unsuspecting sewer grate, startling a few crows, and managing to shuffle and haul the both of us several city blocks, I smile up at the face of home. Well, not home, but a comfortable enough dwelling for right now. More importantly, it's properly outfitted for any situation that may arise with the boy.

The tavern is loud, and though it's nearly midnight, drunken men and daring girls still stumble out of the doors, shedding yellow light. We're approaching from the back, quiet and inconspicuous. The worn wooden wall rises nearly three levels up into the air, but I've never been a fan of heights, so I'm glad my room is in the basement. Easing the maid's door open with my slipper, I catch a whiff of thyme and fritters and relationships ending abruptly. I can't help but love it. Just a cursory glance around the kitchen, to make sure my path to the stairs is unobstructed. The left is clear, and just as I'm going back out to grab him again,

"Ello there miss!" Shit! That girl has the worst timing, and a quite violent accent.

"Hi Eloise." 

"Ya know, I was finking after Missus Lain left, ya know she traveled all over Wingsteff and even bigger than that too, and I was finking that maybe I could leave and do that too someday!" 

"Mhmmmmm." I'm corralling her into the hallway, trying to turn her away from the aristocratic looking boy who looks dead a meter outside the door. 

"But then I got to wondering , ya know maybe they wouldn't have any jobs for cooks in other places since they're so big, and they certainly wouldn't have Monsieur Edwinston in those other places, since he's here every night, and if he ever wants to thank the girl who makes his chips and brandy apples, well I would miss him and so - " 

"Do you hear that? I think Monsieur Jessam needs more beer, you better get out there!" Her eyebrows pop up, and she rushes towards the sitting area behind a large wooden door to serve a nearly comatose Monsieur who did not ask for more alcohol, but won't protest. I feel a bit bad, she's young, like another sister to me, but don't really have time to worry about it, since mystery boy may be recovering at any moment.

His feet hit every step with a bang, and I wince, dragging him down the stairs. His hair keeps getting caught up in my mouth and on my lipstick and my sweaty brow when I put my head down. Three flights of narrow stone stairs, older than the city itself, and a few twists down slanting hallways, and then I'm standing in front of a familiar door. Rummaging around the hidden pockets cut in the side of my dress, I'm pulling out a handkerchief, several hair pins, a pain tonic, headache tonic, sleeping tonic, cramp tonic, what looks like part of a broken bottle, coins, perfume, an assortment of sharp things, and . . . aha! The key opens the door.

 The boy opens his eyes.

"What?" He's groggy, probably doesn't even recognize me, his pupils are dilating fast. I need answers fairly soon, and another knock on that pretty little head has potential to put him out for a while. What to do?

"Whyerogrmmgmmm?" The words aren't coming out clearly, but I'm watching as his eyes start to settle on things, so time to nip this in the bud! Can't hit him, can't poison him, won't seduce him, I'm stuck. Sleeping tonic! Shake the bottle, unscrew the tin top, pinch his nose, tip his head back, and pour the contents down his throat. He splutters for a second, red droplets of laudanum spewing from his mouth before I'm clapping my hand over his lips, forcing him to swallow even as he's yanking my arm away. I'm stronger. Within seconds, his eyelids are fluttering and then he's asleep. With my free hand, I pry his fingers off of the arm that I'm using to cover his mouth. Just as a precaution, I leave it there for another moment. I'm trying to ignore how soft his lips are, much softer than most other boys. It's hard though, they are so incredibly soft. Lips gets me thinking of moments throughout the day. Lips talking and lips taunting and grinning and sneering and the shadow of warm lips on my neck, whispering. Nope! No no no no no no thank you, non, no! While I can appreciate his face now, unconscious and in my control, that was a bitch move to play. I seduce, I attract, I use that. Not him. And he most certainly doesn't back me into a corner, doesn't nearly kiss me, doesn't ignore my requests. Flirt from a distance, and when you're worse than me, split your losses and run. You don't bend rules of civility, especially not right before you lose. I do not like this boy, I do not like this boy one bit. Ow! Looking down, my fists are clenched so tight that my nails bite semicircles into my palms. Another damn thing the boy made me do. There's no need to take out my anger on myself now. He's here, with me. Once I have the answers from him, have completed my mission, he's mine. And I don't forgive, and I never forget.