Falling Between the Notes

(UPDATED) Chapter 4- The Singing Lady

The child made a slow nod, before turning back the way she came and standing at Grimm's side faithfully. My eyes scrutinized the two, attempting to disregard the body that lied not too far behind. Lucette bowed her head politely in my direction, somehow able to manage formality. "Merci." She mumbled, making a small, benign, and perversely innocent smile. She then popped her index finger into her mouth and cleaned it of blood, no differently than one might chocolate.

I stepped back again, not realizing I had left a bloody footprint on the floor.
"So...You remember my face?" I asked, glancing again toward the girl. She nodded silently, then followed behind the man as he opened the door and gestured for us to leave. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I moved toward the exit, but held my breath when the man stopped me again.
"Mademoiselle, if you please, remove your shoes. I cannot have you tracking that in our home." Reassured, I took off my shoes and handed them to him, then stepped outside. The scents changed immediately to lilac and fresh rosewater. Even the air was easily breathable.

I watched awestruck as the man instinctively handed Lucette a folded up dress. The manner in which he acted made such a warped occurrence seem so unexpectedly ordinary. Without a word, she headed to the lavatory to change, leaving me to curiously glance around the hallway. I looked toward the door to the girl's room, counting the amount of locks that scaled it from top to bottom.

As I continued to survey the area, I found pictures lining the walls, some of the two, others of larger groups, leaving me to guess that they must have gone to parties and the like. A few were of what looked like Lucette and an albino rabbit. One was of an empty birdcage, and next to that, a figure in a white feathered venetian mask. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought. I continued down the hallway, stopping aside a dresser at some point, and glancing around before opening one of the drawers.

One of the photos in the drawer appeared rather worn and speckled with age. Upon inspecting it, I noticed what looked like a picture of Lucette holding an old toy elephant and beaming, yet her dress was much more elaborate, while she wore a bonnet as well. Doing a double take, I guessed by the quality of the photo that it had been taken at least several decades prior to my viewing.

At the end of the drawer, I noticed the same toy elephant, though it looked more aged in comparison to how new it appeared in the photo. I picked it up and flipped it over in my palm, examining the features. On the bottom of its feet, there was a small print that described the toy was from the Chicago world's fair. The Chicago world's fair? That couldn't be it. I googled the occasion on my phone, finding that it was indeed dated back to the late 1800s. 1893, to be precise. The little girl in the photo no doubt resembled Lucette, perplexing myself even further.

Out of the corner of my eye, I had just noticed the child was standing nearby and holding my shoes. I closed the cabinet drawer so briskly I nearly tipped over the vase of chrysanthemums that rested atop it. The young girl was staring in my direction with wide, wonder-filled eyes, now wearing a white and pink shirt-dress free of stains.
"Mademoiselle, what are you doing?" She asked, capering closer, handing me my shoes and peering toward the drawer. I made a nervous smile, then took out the elephant hastily.
"Is this yours? It's very cute." I changed the subject posthaste, not wanting to rouse any suspicions. Playful by nature, the girl smiled and giggled at the sight of the figurine.
"It's from a fair! There were lots of elephants there. A Ferris wheel too. Monsieur Lapin took me there on our first trip to America." She explained.
My stomach plummeted. The child in the photo had to be Lucette, and I came to believe it more and more the longer I stayed in the little cottage.
"How do you like America?" I asked skeptically, putting the elephant back into the drawer and shutting it. I turned toward the exuberant child, noting that only a moment ago she held as much life as a doll.
"America?" She tilted her head to the side, eyes seemingly harmless. I gave a quick nod, finishing tying my shoes.
"I like it here." She responded simply enough, making a small smile. I nodded, but went on to pursue the reason that I had come here in the first place.
"So, what you said earlier...You remember me?" I queried, sitting down at the top of the stairway. She nodded slowly, her cheerful countenance resuming one of quiet observation as she sat beside me.
"From a long time ago." She mumbled vaguely, twirling a strand of her ebony hair. "Time is difficult for me sometimes." She uttered, though I had an intimation that was a phrase spoken more to herself.
"When I heard your name, something about you seemed familiar too." I told her, remembering vividly the incident from just the night before. "In fact..." I trailed off, beginning to rove through the depths of my subconscious, memory and imagination alike. I had been an artist for quite some time, and many of my character ideas had simply come to me inexplicably. A strange child, and an even stranger man who sought to care for her...Yes, the ideas I had sketched into personas felt no different from the people I had just met tonight.
"Mademoiselle?" I snapped back into the moment, finding that the child was impatient to gain my attention.
"Ah, sorry." I apologized, remembering where I was. "Lucette, would you be willing to tell me a bit about you and Monsieur Lapin?" I asked, wondering if I could glean any traces of information from her. At my question, her face grew hesitant, while her line of sight moved toward her room.
"Monsieur Lapin says not to tell secrets." She said, speaking nearly automatically.
"Ah. Of course, rules are rules, right?" I sighed in response, feigning a disappointed look in hopes to sway her against the household mannerisms. To my amusement, she noticed my expression and began to look anxious.
"...But, you're not like other people." She mumbled, folding her hands in her lap. She went silent for about a minute, then began to look more sincere. "Monsieur Lapin and I had come here to get away from someone who was trying to hurt me." She started, keeping her voice to a whisper. "I...found your smell and followed it for a long time." She continued, beginning to look partially repentant, hiding her eyes and holding herself shamefully. "I ran away from home to follow it." I nodded in awe as she continued. "B-but, I think...I fell asleep and dreamed for a long time. When I woke up again, I didn't know where I was, and my tummy hurt."
"Is that when you killed that deer?" I guessed.
She nodded slowly.
"Faim." (Hungry) She wiped her eyes and stared ahead blankly. I remembered now that Grimm seemed fully assured that she should not be suffering starvation to that extent. And yet, there was no doubt of it.
"You're...Better now though, hm?" I began, not entirely comfortable in the means which she achieved said nourishment. She nodded, her merry and childish quirks returning once more. I made a half-smile, only just realizing the time. It was early in the morning, and it was best that I made my way back to the cabin for my sleep schedule's sake. I stood up, heading down the stairs. I paused at the door.
"Lucette, what kind of dream did you have?" I asked, turning around to face her. She perked up, then stared at me sideways.
"In my dream, I saw a lady."
"A lady?" I cocked my head to the side.
"She had very pretty hair. It was long too. She was singing about something."
"Thanks." I gave a half-bow, then proceeded outside. Outside the small home, the night sky still reigned, making it rather challenging to see. I was not fond of wandering aimlessly until I found my cabin, so I turned back toward the home in embarrassment.
"By any chance..."
"You...want me to come too?" Lucette appeared both subtly bemused and excited, guessing I was either mental or desperate. I nodded, having calculated that I could more appropriately trust her now, when I knew I looked more like a person and less like a scooby snack.
In due time, we set off back to the cabin, the small girl taking my hand and leading me through the dark, somehow able to find her way.
"Lucette, have you told Mr. Grimm about your dream?" I asked, sensing her pause mid-step.
"Non." She replied quietly, continuing to guide me through the dense forestry.
"I want you to tell him when you get back, aight?" I instructed her, knowing that if anyone could explain it, he could. It made no sense to wake from a dream with a gnawing hunger of that magnitude, unless one had been dreaming for a long, long time. I remembered she explained she did not know where she was when she woke. Involuntary movements? Or perhaps her dream was nothing like a dream at all?