She gasped, as if waking from a dream. How had she forgotten that conversation and the Lens! She had that sensation again of a memory drifting on the outer most corners of her mind, not quite within grasp. She frowned fingering the lens through the material of her skirts. The strong smell of cigars made her look up and she realised a man had been standing in front of her for quite some time,

“This seat taken ma’am?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She'd decided not to go straight to the lighthouse until she could think straight. She'd asked the driver to stop in front of the Darkener's Inn. It was unladylike, but she'd figured that if it wasn't going to help her think, food and a dash of ale would at least calm her down and settle her stomach somewhat.

Not for long, since her thoughts were now interrupted by the tall ominous figure looming above her.

Her mouth was open like a child, her eyes just beginning to form into plates.

"Great. Thanks." Gable pulled out the chair and took a seat, his boots pounding on the wooden floor with every movement he made.

He leaned back, resting his feet on the chair next to him. Puffing on his cigar calmly, he didn't look at her. Why did he sit across from her? She looked about the tavern at all the available chairs, then back at him. She was about to open her mouth, when he answered the impending question.

"Why sit somewhere else, when the view from here is such a..." he looked at her and gave a wry smile "...treat."

She scrunched her brows and looked him over haughtily. A scruffy growth shadowed his face along with what looked like either dirt, or an excessive exposure to the sun. His hair was longer than most men and as unkempt as...she looked away to hide a snicker...a drunken child's.

"I wish I could say the same sir." she said, forcing amusement away.

His own humor melting away, he sat up in his seat quirking a brow.

Drawn to his movement, Charlie looked at him, her own smile fading. Were his eyes blue?

He was trying to intimidate her. She would have none of it. She threw his unamused stare right back in his face with her own. She even leaned forward a bit, challenging him.

They were interrupted by the arrival of her bread and ale. He sat back relaxed, his smile returning. She still leaned forward, picking up the bread with attitude and tearing into it like a wolf. Far from ladylike, but she wouldn't have anyone try to intimidate her.

She double-taked when he calmly leaned forward, took her ale, rose the mug, and took a gulp.

She narrowed her eyes, "WHAT can I do for you sir?" she said, straightening her posture.

His eyes were wide, not because he was threatened, but because on her chest, gleaming in the firelight, was the lens.

Realizing he was staring directly at her chest, Charlie rose with a growl, tearing into her purse, and slapped a few coins onto the table. She then stormed from the tavern.

Gable finished his pint and with the swish of his large coat he was not far behind her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Charlie hid behind some crates near the entrance to the tavern. When his large cloaked figure emerged, the lens was already over her eye. His image was distorted, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just a stupid man.

She watched as he gracefully mounted his horse and rode off in hopes of following her. When she was sure he was gone, she emerged from her hiding place, dusted herself off, and began her journey toward the lighthouse.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From the rocks Gable watched as the young woman entered the lighthouse. The lamb going into the lion's den.

A pretty little thing. Hopefully she wouldn't get her throat torn out before his business was done.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*

He had been waiting for her for hours now. Much longer than he had hoped and it took much of his energy to keep from turning into something unappeasing when he heard her coming into the house.

She used to do those things to him purposely. Make him wait. She already had him wrapped tightly around her finger. Her voice could do that to anyone, but she could cut off her circulation with the short thread she had him on. Circulation...he shook his head, trying not to think about it.

Paul's anger vanished when he turned to find those silver eyes staring back at him. The moisture in the air had caused ebony tendrils to frame her face and it lit up the color in her cheeks. He was hypnotized.

"Hello, sweet. I take it your day was productive?"

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes studying, "Yes, very much thank you."

If he was happy from seeing her, he was virtually on cloud nine now, because while cocking her head in interest, she was also revealing something dreadfully important. His white teeth gleamed. She had the lens. This meant she had the map.

Oh, it would be beautiful giving her eternity. And with the map, eternity would be paradise.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gable was tempted to light another cigar as he pondered from the other side of the window, hidden just enough to observe the goings on inside.

It was an interesting theory and a vicious circle: A siren seducing a vampire seducing a siren. Only she had the low end, because she obviously didn't remember who she was.

.


Gable sat between one of the branches of the large oak that hung over the garden-shed of the Royal Valve, one large buckled-boot resting between an armpit of branches as he lent back against the bark of the trunk, his telescope resting on his knee, his eyes peering out and down the hill to one of the rooms of the inn.



“You bird watching Mr Richman?” said Charlie from below.



Gable bit down on his cigar and cursed. He didn’t take his eyes from his spyglass. “Don’t you know not to startle a man, least of all when he’s working?”



Gable watched. The beautiful slim woman walked around in a bathrobe, her hair rapped up in a towel. He zoomed in on the tattoo on her neck. It was a large black R.



“If you’re trying to spy on me, Mr. Richman, or whatever your bloody name is, you’re doing a terrible job. I’m down here . . .”



Gable cursed, and turning, took a pull from his hipflask.



Charlie went on, “I’ve come to update you, Mr. Richman, see, I no longer have the necklace. I’ve had someone hide it for me. Even I don’t know where it is. So you’ll never find it!”



Gable bit down on his cigar. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me kid . . .”



“Just what are you going on about Mr. Richman?”



Gable adjusted his scope. Gable looked down to Charlie and threw down the spyglass. He took another swig from his hipflask. “See for yourself.



She looked at him angrily. Then lent down and picked up the spyglass and looked to the inn. The woman had just put on her dressing gown. She loosened the band on her hair and let it out and started to rub moisturiser into her face.



Charlie closed the spyglass and looked up to Gable and narrowed her gaze on him in a cursed.



Gable lent back against the tree and let out a cloud of blue smoke. ““Her name is Meme, she and I have history. If she’s in town that means that this hunk of ice of yours is not just about money anymore . . .” Gable bent his hat over his eyes, and crossed his legs and rested them between a branch and yawned. “If I were you kid. I’d pack up my bubblegum, and get out of town before the fireworks start.”



Charlie watched Gable as he rested. “Oh, I can really see that your employer is getting his moneys worth Mr. Richman! Drinking, smoking, sleeping, watching young women through their bedroom windows! Oh you must charge a hansom wage for your services!”



Gable tossed his cigar to the ground, and replied from beneath his hat, “It’s hard to recognise genius working kid. But it’s the way she goes . . .”



Charlie cursed and turned and started down the hill. “I’m going to report you to the marshal tomorrow. And he just happens to be a good friend of mine, so if I were you Mr. Richman I’d take my own advice and get the hell out of town!”



.

Charlie was fuming as she stomped away down the hill, kicking up tufts of grass and dirt with the toe of her boot. That **** pervert skulking around and then staring into the bedroom windows of young ladies, he was a complete shyster and a beer-swilling buffoon to boot! She gave a growl of exasperation and flung herself down onto an old tree trunk. She had worked herself into quite a bad mood and even though it was childish, she felt fit to stamp her foot.

She closed her eyes and started counting slowly to ten, something she had thought the children to do when they were working themselves into a tantrum. Finally she felt composed and smoothed down the front of her skirt. She reached for a blade of grass, twirling it idly between her thumb and index finger. She didn’t want to go back to the lighthouse just yet, her houseguest had begun to irk her. He fawned over too much and she had begun to find his manner just too sickly sweet.

She looked through the fields idly not focusing on anything in particular when a lighted window caught her eye. Ester Mae!! She had told the old gypsy that she would visit and had then promptly forgotten all about it! She blushed, what ever would the lady think of her? She stood up and gathered up her skirts, it wasn’t too dark yet to pay a visit she thought heading in the direction of the light.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The figure in the trees watched her. So she was going to visit the old gypsy woman eh? Well not if they had anything to do with it. It whistled softly through its teeth as it took the shortcut to the old woman’s house, it was time to pay her another visit. And perhaps teach her a lesson once and for all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ester Mae had lived in this old caravan all her life. It was typical old gypsy wandering wagon. She remembered her grandfather’s horses that used to be tethered to it and how he would sit her up on them when she was younger. Her grandfather had, had a way with animals he was a gentle soul. She could still feel his presence around this old caravan and it comforted her, at night she felt protected by it.

She sighed as she dimmed the light on her oil lamp; she wondered would Charlotte come to visit her? She had tried to warn Frederick about the young girl, he refused to believe Ester when she warned him of what she was. She would never have hurt the child, but he had fooled himself into thinking that she was completely innocent. He refused to listen to her and so she had left them both be. She had been upset at his death, but not surprised. It had been inevitable really.

A rustle outside the window made her **** her head to one side. She turned slowly and shuffled towards the window trying to peer out. It was most likely just some badger or what not rustling around out there. She turned away but stopped, something was trying to warn her.

She staggered back as a ball of light came flying towards the window, she didn’t even have time to scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charlie was walking towards the caravan when the whoompf of fire catching stopped her in her tracks. The caravan was now a brilliant ball of fire. She shrieked and raced towards it, screaming Ester’s name.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wind blew softly through the trees and on it carried the soft tune of someone whistling through their teeth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Paul whistled the same tune without a care as he hung up his coat casually. He hurried into the parlour to pour claret carefully into two goblets.

"Quaint old woman was..." he opened a ring on his right index finger, dropping the powdery contents into one of the goblets, "THIS CLOSE, to giving me away."

He picked up the untainted claret and took his place on the settee with it, examining his nails and counting down.

"Three...two...one--"

"OH GOD! It was aweful! I don't know what to do! Master Terronin!" Charlie sobbed.

"Pray, my dear, what is it?!" Paul stood.

"There was a fire! The old woman, Ester Mae, whom I met not two days ago. Her house set ablaze right before my eyes. It wasn't an accident!"

"Thomas!" Paul called and was shortly greeted by a young pallid valet.

"Yes, Master?"

"Alert the Watch. There's been a suspicious fire"

"Yes, Master." And Thomas quickly left.

"Here, sit." Paul beckoned "Have some claret, it will relax you."

Charlie sat as told and held the goblet, shaking. She couldn't drink and if told, she probably couldn't eat.

Ester Mae didn't succeed, but someone else did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*

Charlie tried to go inside the firey wagon. She called for Ester, but it was too late. The powders and oils she kept in her wagon, whether they be secret potions or just lamp oil to light her way, were close to catching fire, and the result would be disastrous. But before Charlie could even think to run, something threw her out of the way, landing on top of her. The explosion boomed, temporarily deafoning her.

She opened her eyes, and the face above her, was a young impish looking man, possibly of eighteen or early twenties. He smiled weakly at her as a trickle of blood started from his hairline.

Sound came back to her ears, but the only thing she heard was his voice. It was lighthearted and tender.

"It's been ages." he laughed softly "I thought I'd never see your face again...my dear friend."

Charlie couldn't help it, tears streamed from her eyes. She did know him, but she didn't know how.

"I'm happy to see it, if only for a moment. Maybe I'll get to again. There--" he rasped, searching for air. "There's a man after you my friend. He wants take away your treasures." he cupped her face "And damage the most important one of all."

The boy's eyes went blind then and his body lifeless.

Charlie gave a painful sob. The only sound to accompany her, was the now quiet flicker of flames a few yards away. And then they turned to full on wails. Like a lost child. She knew this boy. This sweet innocent soul.

She rolled him off of her and turned to look at him, but he was no longer a boy...he was a seal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie was much more comfortable now on the settee. Who was the man who was after her? ....Gable....

She wanted to be sick. And the only thing she saw comfort in now, was the claret she swirled around in her mouth. Oh, she found much more relaxation than expected in the drink and was even more comforted by the sound of Paul playing "Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal" on the piano. (http://search.lycos.com/default.asp?tab=multi&loc=searchbox&query=Now+Sleeps+the+Crimson+Petal&cat=audio Listen to #10 from Vanity Fair)

Suddenly her voice had escaped her throat and she was singing.

"Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me."

Paul looked up from the keys. He had not expected this. His eyes grew gold in hypnosis, he could not stop playing if he wanted to now. He was trapped.

When it seemed he would be captured forever, her voice ceased. She was asleep. He shook the spell from his eyes, and stood. The potion had worked.

He stared at her for a moment. If he kissed her, would she awaken? He kneeled next to the settee, and observed her face like it was a Da Vinci. He leaned in closer...he wanted to, but his arms took over and scooped her up. He carried the small woman, but not to her bed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gable watched as the disgustingly pretty and perfumed man loaded a lifeless body into his carriage. The lifeless body could only be Charlie.

Gable had been paying severe attention and a special (and bountiful chested) source had relayed the nasty bit of information, that there was a private ship, waiting for it's very private master, to go to a private location.

What WOULD the neighbors say?

Paul shifted in the seat, moving Charlie’s body gently against the window. He had told the driver to bring them to the port swiftly but not to get them killed doing it. He gave a snort of indignation as they carriage jumped over yet another bump. He raised his ornate walking stick, banging the rounded crystal top against the roof of the carriage,

“I wont tell you again!! Mind those da/mn rocks!!”

The carriage swung violently and he was thrown back in his seat, he heard a strange muffled cry then all was silent again. He looked to Charlie confused, was she about to awaken? The carriage lurched again and Paul was thrown violently against the window on his side,

“DAM/NATION!!”

He couldn’t afford to have the driver stop; time was not his friend right now. He lifted the catch dropping the window, gasping as a freezing wind tore at his clothes. He grabbed the frame hoisting himself out, giving one last careful look towards Charlie before clambering out. He’d drive the da/mn carriage himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gable gave a little smile hearing Paul clambering up behind him. Just as he planned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Paul was squinting trying to see through the blinding sleet that had suddenly begun to fall. He was edging his way closer towards the driver, one swift turn and he’d have his neck broken and they could all be on their way. He moved forward again and reached out to grab the driver’s shoulders, when suddenly Gable swung himself around and planted both of his feet firmly into Paul’s chest.

“Enjoy your fall friend”

Gable smirked and shoved with all of his might, sending Paul flying off the back of the carriage.

Paul gave a howl of rage as he flew across the carriage. He swung his hand up and just barely managed to catch onto the back of the carriage. He was tore along behind it; his feet and body being dragged along at break neck speed. He swung his other hand up and hoisted himself up, scrabbling to get a better grip.

Gable reached down to grab the reins again and began urging the horses on, cracking the whip against them. A creaking noise made him look up sharply, just in time for Paul to land a fist squarely on his nose. Stars danced in front of Gable’s eyes and blood gushed from his nose. He barely had time to twist out of the way as Paul sailed in with a left hook.

Gable caught Paul’s waist and tackled him onto the roof of the carriage. The both of them brawling as the carriage raced and lurched through the forest.

Paul stood over Gable his eyes glowing through the sleet as he aimed a kick at his midriff, snarling he tore Gable up by his shoulders,

“You think you would be a match for me, a petty crook? Remember my face because it’s the last you will see before…”

Gable head butted Paul making him stagger back in shock,

“You just don’t know when to shut up do you?”

He punched Paul in the stomach and then caught him with an uppercut, which sent Paul skidding down the length of the carriage on his back. Paul rolled over onto his stomach, trying to push himself up onto his hands and knees only to collapse again gasping, as Gable stamped down hard onto his back with his foot. He reached down grabbing Paul before hoisting him up and swinging him off the carriage out into the forest.

Gable staggered back to the top of the carriage almost slipping from the sleet and wind. He wearily gripped the reins, wiping away the blood that was dripping from his nose. He turned up his collar and pulled down his hat against the raging sleet, he’d stop as soon as they were far enough away to check on the girl.

For now he was taking a break…….he was getting too old for this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gable took a swig from his hipflask and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He chewed off the end of his cigar, put it in his mouth, and lit it in a curse.


Just as he was about to turn and check on the girl, a strange movement from the road caught his attention. It wasn’t Paul. It was larger. Much larger. And it was moving towards them.


Gable drew his .45 and watched the large creature.


No, it wasn’t a creature. It was a machine of some kind. It had legs like a spider, and it was moving - clunking along in the darkness on long steel legs. It had a small frame and hissed and grinded with the sound of steam and cogs.


As it neared, under the poor weather, gable saw that someone was inside the machine. Controlling it.


Behind a red window – smiling.


Jesus it was - her. His old friend from the hotel.


Gable aimed and fired twice at the window, as he did a voice echoed from a gramophone from the head of the steel spider.


“Long time no see honey, how is your back by the way?” said the woman smiling.


Gable empted his .45 on one of the leg-joints of the spider; hoping to weaken it, but failing. “Once I got your knives out, the doc stitched me up just fine.” He voiced. He quickly drew his powder gun that he kept at his waist, and fired twice at the cockpit window. But there was no effect. It was if the glass was made of iron.


Pistons and gears hissed as the spider started gaining yet more ground.


“I should have used venom. But I had run out you see. Having killed all those people at the church dinner had drained my personal supply. And then you came along.”


A strange wiry talon suddenly sprung from the steel spider’s underbelly and reached for gable. But he dodged and it tore off the door instead.


“Lucky me.” He whispered.


Gable took a dyna-charge from his side, and throwing his cigar to the ground, pulled the pin out with his teeth. He watched the movements of the spider for a moment, to try and find some kind of rhythm, then letting off two more rounds – aiming for the cockpit once again – and threw the dyna-charge at the legs of the machine.


It exploded just under one of the legs, sending a hail of dirt from the road everywhere – but otherwise doing little damage to the machine.


Just as he was about to pull the pin on another, the huge claw came back and reached for him again, and a cackle of laughter sounded from the gramophone.


It had him by the arm. Gable cried out.


Jesus. Was that his arm breaking.


The pain was unbearable.


Gable pulled at it, but the claw was iron. He could not move it.

Just saving the story!

Aww id actually forgotten about this story! We should really finish it!