Nine Shillings

The Wolf and The Lamb

London - 1842

Footsteps followed me through the darkness. Tap, tap, tapping on the cobbles.

I picked up my pace. He did too.

I ran. He followed.

I took a corner, then another.

He took the first corner. I grabbed him and slammed him into the alley wall, pinning him with one arm.

'Evening,' I said.

He stared at me as if he couldn't quite figure out what was happening.

'You've been a bad boy, Harry. Following girls... Tut. Tut.'

He shoved at my arm, it didn't budge and he frowned. 'It's just a bit of fun.'

'Ah, yes. Becoming their nightmare made flesh. Making them too scared to leave the house alone, or at all. Terrified you know where they live, of what you'll do next...' I pressed him harder to the wall and he whimpered. 'Ever heard of the wolf in sheep's clothing, Harry?' I extended my fangs. 'That would be me.'

He pissed himself.

I looked down then back to his face. 'What's the matter, Harry? Not having fun?'

'Please, don't hurt me,' he whispered.

'Bloodless corpses are a tad conspicuous.'

'I won't do it again –'

'I know.' I snapped his neck with my free hand. 'And so will they.' I dropped his limp body on the ground.

I lifted the hood of my bodice and shimmied out of the skirts that hid my trousers. A dress was all good and well for Mrs O'Connor but it had never sat well on The Reaper, or Lot Maguire, it felt like carting around a cage. Though, I had to admit, as a wife a skirt did have one advantage over trousers.

I tossed the skirts aside without bothering to hide them, they'd be gone as soon as I turned my back. Then I grabbed Harry's foot and dragged him onto the street. Father Brennan would've told me I should show some respect for the dead, I figured you treated rubbish like rubbish and Harry had proven himself to be rubbish. At this point, if God was going to tack disrespecting the dead onto my sin tally it wouldn't make much difference.

The streets weren't empty but the people abroad weren't the types to go to the police, unless they fancied answering questions about what they'd been doing in the middle of the night. If they did people weren't likely to believe stories of a tiny woman dragging the body of a man twice her size by one foot.

The streetlight I'd selected for my purposes had some lovely spokes on. I picked Harry up and impaled him on one, it saved finding somewhere to hide rope.

'May you burn in the eternal fires of damnation and be a warning to the rest of your ilk,' I said.

His blood dripped at my feet.

The back of my neck prickled and I looked around. There were a few people in the alleys plying their trades and making an effort not to notice or be noticed. That was how it worked, I don't see what you're up to if you don't see what I'm up to.

The feeling of being watched faded. There was no sign of movement on the rooftops, no scents stood out, no out of place sound. The recollection of the murderer silently sneaking up on me made my stomach roll. I ignored it.

'I know you're there,' I whispered; a vampire, ghoul, or werewolf would hear me with their sensitive ears. 'Come out.'

Nothing moved on the roofs above and no-one in the street below reacted as if they'd heard anything. Supernaturals were good at fakery but I could see through their illusions so there was always some sign, a slight tilt of the head, tensing of the shoulders, quickening of the heart.

It could've been someone without sensitive ears. It could've been our murderer, I had no idea what they were capable of. It could've been life making me paranoid. Old criminals often believed the world was out to get them, the police certainly were, plus the rest of the criminals, and anyone who thought they'd cheated them, which was often everyone.

Someone had been there, I was sure. Unfortunately, I had no idea where there was. I sighed, it was going to be a long night of examining rooftops.

✽✽✽

By the time I got home it was so late it was early but the children hadn't decided to invade Mummy and Pappy's bed and take all the space. I changed into my nightdress, got into bed behind Bran and curled around him.

'Your hands are cold,' he murmured and blew on one of them.

'Does that mean you were hoping I'd put them somewhere interesting?' I kissed his neck.

'Hmmm, you didn't have trouble, did you?' He shifted onto his back.

I propped myself over him. 'I was sure someone was watching me but couldn't find any evidence. I started wondering if all this intriguing was making me paranoid.'

He kissed my fingers. 'I doubt it. There are people with the ability to watch without being present.'

'I'm not sure what's more unsettling, the idea of magic Peeping Toms or there might be a new player in the game.'

'I'm sure Freyja could do that magic if she chose.'

'Definitely more unsettling.' I kissed him. 'I wondered if it was our murderer. But why hide? They already know they can beat me.'

'Could be Isobel or Tomas trying to keep an eye on you.' He rubbed one of my curls between his fingers. 'They have plenty of human spies who wouldn't stand out unless you had their scent.'

They might not stand out at all, I didn't have Bran or Josef's experience tracking as a vampire.

'I knew there was a reason I married you.' I slid my hand up the inside of his thigh.

He grinned. 'You'll give me frostbite.'

My hand stopped halfway. 'Dead people can't get frostbite.' I kissed his nose. 'Maybe I should warm my hands up though.' I grabbed his bare arse.

He laughed. 'That's cold.'

I nuzzled his nose. 'I miss the days when we could spend all day abed playing and talking.' I smiled. 'You remind me not everything in the world is tarnished.'

He caressed my face. 'Not everyone would agree.'

'More fool them.' I kissed him deeply.

He glanced in the general direction of Josef's room and whispered, 'I want to worship my Athena.'

I touched my nose to his. 'I like the sound of that.'

It was a definite improvement to my night.