A Victorian Lady's Guide to Killing Gods and Monsters [ONC 2023]

Chapter III: Parasols are brilliant weapons to fight strangers at your door

London, April 4th, 1852

Aye, Hattie was not ready for it. Her walking dress was still wet with Spring rain, and her parasol rested lifelessly against the wall. She waited once again.

Knock, knock.

It had not been a dream. Who was it this time? Another admirer looking for Mistress Rayburn? The police? Perhaps the lady that glanced at her when she found the monster told the doctor she saw a mad woman? Oh, God in Heaven, please do not leave me to rot for the rest of my days in a madhouse. As you can see, the Rayburns were not used to hosting afternoon calls on Sundays.

"Who is there?" Hattie asked, grabbing her parasol like a sword.

"Oi?" asked a man on the other side. "Is this the Rayburn residency?"

His voice had a heavy American accent, a voice that Hattie could not recognize. She would not open the door to a stranger.

Oh, please, she thought. You are being silly. How dangerous might he be? You have a parasol to defend yourself. He knows this is your house. It is either the police or a very clever thief. The worst thing it can happen is that he is a robber, and you can just shove the door onto his nose.

"Hello?" the man asked again.

Hattie took a breath. One, two, three.

When she opened the door, she encountered a man, not very far from boyhood, shivering on her doorstep. His black hair under the top hat was clustered and messy as if he had just finished an arduous fight against a pillow. Hattie probably looked the same. His darkened skin stood out under the fashionable clothes he was wearing. Hattie sniffed. He did not smell like a monster. Would he be just a man or the girl's senses were fooling her once again? She looked into his eyes, trying to figure out who that individual would be. Then she knew. Under thick charcoal-colored eyebrows, a purple look analyzed her. Dark purple as wine poured on soil. The strange man's eyes.

"Monster!" she screamed, brandishing her umbrella like a bayonet. She could not be faster than him and close the door in his face, but he reacted as if Waterloo had unleashed before his eyes.

"Ma'am, I-Miss! Is this the Rayburn residency?" he repeated, trying to avoid the blow of the sword-like umbrella. "I was sent here! Please! Don't kill me!"

"How am I to trust you? I do not know you! Go away, or I will be happy to shove this parasol up your derrière!"

"Let me explain, I beg you! Are you Atalanta Rayburn?"

Hattie stopped in shock. Why did that boy know her full name? Why did he show up at her door? The temptation to get her weapon up his arse was strong, but not as much as her curiosity. He did not seem like a bad egg at all. He was a kid forced to grow up, just like her. Innocent.