The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part II - Chapter XXIII: Probing & Prostitutes

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?” Charlie asked. 

Eugene turned and glared at the assistant. The young man was beginning to look like trouble. He asked too many questions. Someday, he’d probe a little too far, and Eugene would have to retaliate. The magician was not looking forwards to that day.

Charlie met his gaze and as they continued to stare, the soft leather journal tucked into his jacket heated. The warmth seeped through Charlie’s shirt and to his skin. He flinched and nudged it away, hoping that Eugene hadn’t noticed.

Eugene narrowed his eyes but turned away. The entrance mirror reflected his bedraggled appearance and he knew that a visit to the tailors was in order. The clothing Arthur had lent him were beginning to fit too snugly as Eugene’s chest filled out and his shoulders broadened. “Out.”

“It’s getting late. Are you not worried about Leather Apron, as they’ve been calling him?” Charlie asked. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The lamp above him rattled and he glanced up to ensure that no wax was dripping onto him. 

Eugene followed Charlie’s gaze for moment but upon seeing that the glass bowl encompassing the candle had caught all the drops, looked back into the mirror and straightened his cravat. “No. Should I be?”

Charlie chuckled. “Well, the fact that there is a murderer on the loose usually has some people feeling a little, um, anxious.”

“I am not ‘some people’.” Eugene said, reaching for his hat and picking up his cane. With a curt nod, he opened the front door and disappeared into the shadows of the evening. Charlie waited a few moments for Eugene to get a small head start before grabbing his coat and the umbrella leaning in the corner. 

“Charlie!” Arthur’s voice called just as the assistant’s hand met the doorknob. A moment later, Arthur came barreling down the stairs faster than one would think possible given his age and weight.

Charlie winced and let go of the doorknob. “Yes?” He turned around to face Arthur. The older man’s face glowed from the exercise, despite the brevity of it, and he reached into his jacket for a handkerchief. 

“There is a man in the alley out back coming to the back door. He has a broken leg. I’ll need your help to set it. Come on.” Without waiting for an answer, Arthur rushed away down the hall.

Charlie peaked out the door’s side window just in time to see Eugene turn the corner. 

He groaned and glanced back towards Arthur, hoping the old man would forget about him. Tools and instruments clattered from the small room off the hall that served as a makeshift operating room when a hospital was too far away or when time was an issue. 

Charlie reached for the doorknob and quietly turned it. As he gently eased the door open, the back door slammed against the wall and two men stumbled in, one barely conscious and the other holding him up.

“Charlie!” Arthur called.

Charlie sighed and let the door shut with a creak. He replaced his coat and umbrella and ran his fingers through his hair. “Coming.” 

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The air was thick and dark thunderclouds hung heavily overhead. The streets were deserted other than the occasional couple heading home, hoping to avoid the impending downpour. It was peaceful to Eugene, though, and for a second he was transported back half a millennium to when he had walked the lonely streets of London with only his thoughts and his pressing task as company. 

Lorelle’s face shone through his thoughts as he remembered the many nights they had spent in the warmth of their home, storms raging outside. The friendliness of the blazing fire...the way the light danced against Lorelle’s face and through her golden hair, making it seem that she was on fire.