Adeline

Chapter 12 - Clash

The extra voice in the room completely shocked and terrified both Arthur and Adeline so much that they fell backwards, clutching at each other's lapels. Neither of them had any idea how long this man had been standing there, listening to them. And if it was who Arthur suspected he was, he wasn't going to be very happy with them.

This voice, though, was a voice that Arthur recognised. He had heard it before – and it gave him the same sort of petrifying chills now as it did the first time he heard it. He remembered. That night when he was sleeping by Adeline in her little hut because they were bound by custom-made hand cuffs, when he was woken up in the middle of the night by those voices outside the door. Those voices were defined by the voice of one man, the man who threatened to kill him, the man who broke Adeline out of prison, the man who was angry with her for protecting Arthur, the man who talked about some kind of Great plan and 'living like kings' after its execution. The man who was about to kill Arthur in his 'sleep ', and even held a gun up to him. When Arthur heard the voice of this man, he was paralyzed with fear just like he was the first time.

This man's cold and unemotional tone made him seem like the type of person that would laugh when he watched children becoming sick and die. He seemed like the type of man who would spit on his best friend and he seemed like the type of man with no regard for anything human. It was like he was some kind of monster, and his unfeeling tone told everything.

Before, Arthur had his eyes squeezed shut as he pretended to sleep during that meeting in the middle of the night. This time, as he looked up at the figure in the doorway, he could finally put a face to the voice that haunted his very nightmares. In a time when he was most vulnerable and terrified, this voice lurked outside every door, this voice matched the feeling of being so close to death. When Arthur was lying in the snow and ash in Oxford street being trampled to near death, this was the voice that he associated with it. And here he was again, with the shining black pistol being pointed right at him. This man's face brought Arthur's entire world down.

It was Mark Church.

He stood there in the doorway, and it was the first time that Arthur heard his voice sober, with Adeline there. And he knew. The man in the middle of the night and the detective that he met in that pub were the same man. A scowled at him, his strong features amplified by his dark, cold and unfeeling eyes. Arthur's jaw dropped in disbelief as everything was brought into the light. This man, a police detective, who worked and was friends with all of his colleagues. Did they know that he was the same man who had told Adeline to do what she was doing? It was all so sudden, and Arthur felt like a complete fool for being too drunk to realise, that when he was introduced to Mark in the pub a couple of weeks ago, that he had the same voice as the evil man who threatened him.

He stood there, tall but not taller than Arthur, still managing to take up most of the doorway. It was something about the way he stood that made him seem especially large, like his aura took up so much space as you wouldn't want to get to close to him. He towered above them as the two scooted along the floor to get away from him. He was the best-dressed criminal that Arthur had ever seen though, with a black tuxedo on, a white bow tie and black dinner jacket, he looked like he was meant to be somewhere. In fact, by his expression, he looked genuinely tired and inconvenienced by the fact that he had to be here, pointing his gun at the two of them. But aside from that, he also had a way of looking extremely angry, with dark eyebrows hooding his equally dark eyes, he narrowed them at the two of them in his spite and resentment. He pursed his lips as if he were about to spit the ugliest words at them. His dark hair was combed back with wax and he truly looked very smart. If Arthur were to see this man standing amongst the Lords downstairs, there would be nothing that he could tell apart. His shoes were well shined, he wore beautiful seal-skin gloves and he held his top hat in his other hand. It was like he had just come here from a marvellous party.