A Creature of the NightFebruary 2nd - 213 Rowanoak Lane 8:30pm
“Is there anything else you need for the evening, Miss V?” The sound of Emory Lindsey’s voice rolled out of the Peugeot, and lingered in the cold night air. She turned back to the car once more, for once considering his offer, but could think of nothing immediate.
“No, Em. I’ll be alright tonight. If you’ll be so kind, have someone over to pick me up in the morning when they’re ready for the meeting.” She added, pulling her wool coat tighter around her shoulders. The wind had picked up considerably now, and the frigid gusts bit with tenacity turning her cheeks a brilliant crimson. With a tip of his hat, Emory shifted the car into gear, and pulled away from the snow-covered sidewalk. She watched the smoke from the exhaust mingling into the drifting snowfall. With a cautious glance, ever watchful of the Adders since the attack on Shay. No one else was outside, not in weather like this. The amount of snow London received in the past two weeks had created snow drifts averaging two feet in depth. Turning on her heel, she made her way inside the apartment flat. Someone would swing by the complex later on in the evening and act as her watch guard for the rest of the night before leaving in the morning.
Apartment #538 Vera slipped off her heels, and stood without abandon in the doorway of her flat, gazing around. With the door locked securely behind her, she felt safe knowing that someone would be watching the place still. Keeping that in mind, she followed the hallway to her bedroom, tugging off the peach tea dress, she cast it aside in the hallway, not having a care in the world. When she came to stand before the nightstand by her bed, a pang of guilt made her hesitate. The last time she did this...it hadn’t ended so well. Then again, she hadn’t touched the pipe for nearly a week when Sam and her had it out in the kitchen just days ago. Sinking down onto the thin mattress, she opened the drawer, as if compelled to just see the pipe and accouterments with her own eyes.
For how long she remained seated on the edge of her mattress like that, she couldn’t say, but finally as if entranced, she finally reached for the pipe, drew out the pellets of opium, and began to arrange the associated items with care. Reclining back, she lit the lamp, and with the brass tongs, she carefully placed a pellet into the bowl piece, waiting for the lamp to grow hot. A familiar orange cloak descended around her as her eyes focused in on the dancing light. Then, she lifted the long stem of her pipe, and held the bowl over the lamp, letting the heat vaporize the pellet. To her, the opium helped ease her nerves, chased away the demons of the yesteryears and lulled her into a daze, a brilliant fog that she never wanted to lift. Part of her wished she could feed her desire for days on end, never rising from the bed, never leaving the flat, just a never ending circle of smoke, a continuous dream of melancholy.
The thick smoke hit the back of her throat, to which she let it sink down in her esophagus for a few moments before expelling it through her nose. As expected, that first hit calmed her agitated nerves, and soothed her into a sense of serenity. She continued, one puff after another until her eyes lid felt weighted. A heavy hand reached to turn the lamp down, and she placed the pipe on the tray alongside the tongs and lamp. Recoiling onto her back, she managed to gaze up at the ceiling, her thoughts turning to Shay. The features of his face came easily to her mind, most importantly the haunting look of his piercing blue eyes. The way he smiled, the sound of his voice, how he held her in his gaze caused her body to flush at the thoughts of picturing him like so. Even now, her eyes drooping with exhaustion, she thought she could smell the scent of his aftershave and cologne. Her thoughts trailed off to the night they spent lovemaking, and she could recall the distinctive feel of his warm body akin to hers.
‘What would he think of me now?’ Vera thought, her mind wandering in and out of consciousness.
‘Would he let me continue on this way? Let me keep my pipe…? If only he were here with me now.’ She thought no more as she drifted off into sleep.
February 3rd 8:45am - Apartment #538BANG. BANG. BANG! Her eyes snapped open at the sudden disturbance from her sleep. Kicking off the blankets, she scrambled out of bed, hastily throwing on the dress she wore yesterday, she made for the door. “Who is it?” She called, her voice catching in her throat, thick with sleep.
“It’s Silas, Miss Vera.” The voice matched the street rat that belonged to none other than Silas Lowell himself. She paused momentarily at the doorway before lifting the latch. Forcing a smile as she pulled back the door, she found herself staring back at the young fellow, a heavy smell of cologne radiated towards her.
“Good morning, Silas. Come in, have a seat if you please.” She stepped back to let him in, the smell of cologne mingled with a wiff of cigarette smoke. “Forgive me, I’ll just be a moment.” Vera replied, excusing herself from his company. While he waited patiently by making himself comfortable, Vera busied herself by fixing her curls, washing her face in the sink and all other common rituals that a woman performs. When she finished, she slipped into a black tweed skirt, and a white button-down blouse, her hair secured under the cloche she sported.
Emerging from the washroom, she found Silas gazing out one of the floor to ceiling french windows. Finally, it seemed that the snowstorm that had lasted for what felt like two weeks, had cleared, and now a brilliant swath of blue sky greeted them both. At the sound of her heels clicking against the floor, he turned to face her. “Are you ready to leave, Miss Vera?” He inquired, removing his cap and wringing it in his hands.
“Aye. I’ve everything I need, after you.” She said with a pleasant smile.
9:30am - The Tawdry Countess
While the sky remained clear, an evident chill still clung to the air. She was thankful that she had chosen to sport her wool coat again, unlike Silas who had opted for a lighter jacket. Clearing the entrance into the Tawdry, Vera found Frankie behind the bar already, polishing the tumblers and wine glasses used last night. She recalled fondly how Eris and Elouise crowded around her yesterevening at the sight of Shay and her reconciling. It was no news to them now, that they were an item. Even Sam seemed relatively pleased at them making amends.
Seated around the bar were Samuel and Emory. They turned in their seats at the sound of the door opening, to which her brother offered her a welcomingly smile. “Good morning, V. You look rested, I trust you slept well?”
“Yes…” [i] ‘With the help of the pipe, but sleep nonetheless.’ Is what she wanted to say, but went with, “I did. Thank you for asking.”
“You’d best head into the office, Grant and the others are waiting for you.” Sam gestured with a wave of his hand.
“And Shay?” Vera asked hopefully.
“Aye, he’s in there too.”
With a brisk walk, she made it to the office door, and gave a quick rapt. Therein she received a sharp “Come in!”, to which she opened the door to see Grant sitting behind the desk where he was just yesterday. To her left, on the leather sofa, sat Shay, and to her right, in a matching lounge chair, sat Clint. “Good morning Vera.” Grant began, “Please, have a seat. There is much to discuss.” With limited options, perhaps on purpose, she chose the only available seat next to Shay, and offered him a rather excited smile, she had missed him the night before. As she turned her head to face Grant, her hand snuck out and gave Shay’s knee an affectionate squeeze.
“Have you eaten anything for breakfast?” Grant continued, but Vera shook her head no. “Clint, will you tell Frankie to bring in that batch of scones that Mrs. Foster dropped by this morning? Any coffee or tea?” He inquired, turning back to her.
“Ah… tea, please and thank you.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes please.”
“Cream and sugar too, Clint.” Thereon, Clint excused himself from the room to fetch what his brother asked of him, leaving Grant alone with Vera and Shay.
“Now then, Shay. Did you finish that map of the premises as I asked?” Grant said, interlocking his fingers together in a steeple.
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