The bastard angel

Prologue

I am ten, and there was a strange man outside by the garden pond. His eyes were wide and staring, his mouth was wet with spittle and his clothes were dirty - but even I recognised he must have come from some hospital. Escaped. And he was standing there, watching me. Completely silent and it was eerie, but I thought, standing still would be a strategy.

Anton and his son Lucian were occasional visitors to the town and I would be allowed to visit - Lucian and I were the same age.

My aunt didn't know or didn't care to, that they were both confidence men and I was allowed to participate in a few 'plays' as they called them, even then. 

Anton had met mentally challenged people before, had even impersonated a few and he had said how they had an advantage over the 'sheep' as he called those so easily persuaded, in that their minds worked differently and could see the world differently. So I stood still, implying that I was a child and meant him no harm. I could see harm had been done, in the name of what some fools called medicine and I didn't want him to think I would do the same.

I still think he would have kept on walking, off to scare someone else but then my aunt called out to me, breaking the spell that he was under and he charged for me.

I had learnt a few tricks, what to do when I was grabbed - Anton had shown me how even as a small child, I could escape an adult, breaking a finger was one of the ways but this man grabbed my neck first with such a strong grip for bony fingers and I was grabbing at nought but slippery skin and then he drags me over the pond and pushes me into the water. Everything goes black, even though I struggle and I hold my breath - strange reflex even though I am being strangled as well as drowned but I still do it.

Darkness, then light and I am in a strange room, no longer wet and I wonder what the schoolhouse master would make of it. Unlike most, a proper scholar, who encouraged my love of maths and sciences and lent me many books on the subjects. My aunt spends money on food and keeping house and basic clothes. No more, no less.

The room is warm but the floor is cold and I shiver despite no longer being wet. Some otherworldly place I am now in and I want to go. People appear and then disappear, all of them look afraid when they arrive and they are still afraid and a little sad when they leave.

One woman stays though, her dress is old and I wonder again at what the schoolmaster would have to say. Most likely it is my imagination producing these images, the mind is a powerful thing - like Anton would say, and clearly, mine is making an effort, where in the real world, I am being drowned.

I feel a strange pull at my feet and I don't like it, I step away and then the strange woman is right in front of me. She wears her long hair loose over her shoulders, I would hazard a guess at thirty but her eyes look older than that. She looks at me, her gaze is thoughtful and she grips my shoulders and pulls me upwards, more of my imagination it seems, that I weigh nought to her. I do not believe in otherworldly strength, not even now.

'I think you should go back.' Strange accent and I go back in my mind thinking of where it might originate. She smiles. 'Your life will continue, but when it is time, it will be owed to me and I will come to collect. Do not forget that.'

I blink and I am outside and soaked and my friend Andrew is holding me tightly.

'You're here.'

He looks like he might cry but then he laughs. 'I heard you screaming from next door.'

'Where's...' I trail off, over Andrew's shoulder, I see the strange man being led away by the peelers.

'You stupid girl.' My aunt. She pulls me up by my shoulder and slaps my face. 'Get inside and wash yourself before you fall ill.'

I told Andrew about the strange woman, no one else. He looked worried for a moment and then said I probably just imagined it - he said it was probably a reimagining of my aunt, how she always implied I was going straight to hell for all my misdeeds.

'That does make sense.'

'Because you're not, you know,' he adds, smiling a little. 'You're my friend. And you're a good friend.'

'And you too, Andrew. I'm lucky to have you as a friend.'