Nightmare on Fleet Street (Part 8)
Chapter 26
Eleanor had never believed blood tasted sweet. Having bitten the inside of her mouth before and taken hits across the face she had a fair number of times tasting it. On days when she butchered she often got a taste though she tried her best to avoid sampling a stranger’s blood. Needless of how it happened, all of the occasions had left her a bitter taste in her mouth. With Sweeney it was as if something completely different had come in contact with her lips. In her opinion, it was almost like honey, though the last time she had tasted the sweet was many years ago.
Her demon barber was sweet. If Eleanor hadn’t been sobbing into his chest, she would have laughed.
A kiss hadn’t been exactly what she had been expecting, though she welcomed it readily. It was amazing the both of them were still standing (or really kneeling) so when Sweeney held her so tightly she was amazed at his strength. The taste of him had been very distracting, but it hadn’t taken the baker very long to know something was wrong. Well, a number of things were, but something had finally caused debilitating damage.
The mingled taste of the barber and his victims was quickly imbalanced when his blood flowed strongly out of his parted lips.
Eleanor had become annoyingly calm when he pulled away from her to try and cough away the blood. She had just held him tightly with the strength he had possessed moments ago as he became nearly slack in her arms.
A traitorous little voice in the back of her mind whispered, he’s dieing.
Sweeney was never one to let something slow him down, as he had proven again and again through his struggle to survive all that day and the past fifteen years of his life. Feeling tired, his pain becoming a dull ache that accompanied darkening vision- he felt angry. After everything he had done that day, murdering two people was going to be what sent him over the edge? That coupled with the message he had in mind for the woman holding him fueled his sour mood- though he had little strength to act on it. The damaged parts of him that he had ignored and bullied into functioning were calling it quits- and the fact his body was abandoning him was what enraged Sweeney the most.
He was on his back and he wasn’t quite sure how he got there. Nellie had probably lowered him down, though at he moment she was clinging to his side, her head tucked against his neck and shoulder. Of everything, all he seemed to feel were her tears on his skin. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but all that did was send more blood into his lungs.
How the hell was he going to tell her something if he couldn’t speak?
Pulling together what was left of his strength Sweeney barely managed to move his arms around his little baker. Her tears seemed to stop for a moment as he slowly tightened his hold. Though plan B was in effect, he still tried to speak. The second attempt heightened his feeling of suffocation. He was drowning in his own blood.
His arms still pulled her closer, trying to hold her tighter. The obvious fact that he couldn’t speak made him all the more determined to tell her.
Even if the world was so shadowed and colorless that it made him wonder if his eyes were still open.
So what if one of his lungs was useless- finally run through with his broken rib? He had inadvertently rescued his daughter, avenged his wife and killed the men responsible for fifteen years of hell in his life. Looking back on it all, Sweeney realized he had fulfilled his promises to himself and others. With one last thing to do and no way to do it, his life felt slightly less fulfilled.
Was she still next to him? He couldn’t feel her. Sweeney couldn’t give her a message if she wasn’t around to hear it!
For, despite the little things he had done that day, he needed to tell her to make it real.
Sweeney Todd had to tell Eleanor Lovett that he cared for her, so it could become a solid fact and not just a dream.
He couldn’t see and all sensation had long since left his limbs, but before he fully slipped away the barber fancied he heard someone whisper ‘I love you’ in his ear.
--
London nights always had a life of their own, but this night was certainly different.
Both Anthony and Johanna had harbored a secret hope that the monsters that emerged that day would not be a lasting problem, but everything they saw and heard that night swept away that small hope. Lanterns that would have softly lit the streets and front of houses were cold and unlit, but a glow in the distance showed that the fire that had been started early that night still raged on. The two teens doubted there was anyone left to put it out. They had searched in vain for Toby, only finding blood, creatures and broken buildings.
Mayhew’s departure back to the judge’s house felt like years ago, making it increasingly difficult for the pair to tell time. All the managed to reason it was now their turn to come back to the haven.
They had not found Toby’s body, so that left a small hope in them. The small hope that the young boy was alive.
It did not help them feel any better as they ran, scuttled and ducked their way back to the judge’s house. Johanna had felt a heaviness in her heart through the whole mission, almost feeling as if she owed it to Mrs. Lovett to bring back her boy. Thinking of the baker made the girl wonder if the woman was even still alive. She pushed the thought away, turning her attention to Anthony, who was looking around the edge of a building. Apparently deeming it clear enough to cross, he held a hand back for her to take. They had taken to running between shadowed alley’s, the silence of the city fueling their paranoia.
Johanna grasped his hand tightly, trying to prepare herself for what felt like another run across open ground. All of the running and hiding had begun to make her feel like a rabbit caught under the barrel of a rifle.
“Ready?” Anthony whispered.
She just nodded in response. If they hadn’t gotten too turned around in their search for Toby, Johanna figured they were only a few streets away from Turpin’s home.
--
It was like walking into the home of a stranger. All of the familiar sounds were replaced by silence, or the creak of worn floors. The safe place Johanna had been running towards no longer seemed safe. Anthony squeezed her hand, and lead the hesitant girl forward. She shuffled slowly after him, casting suspicious glances at wall hangings she had once walked by without a second glance. Johanna didn’t even have to strain her ears to hear the sound of the city burning, and the thought of how close the fire could be made her shiver.
Anthony’s steps wavered and Johanna found herself stop moving instantly. “What is it?” She whispered, it didn’t seem right to speak loudly.
“I think I hear something.” The sailor mumbled back.
Of course you can hear something, it’s the world falling apart. Instead of voicing her thoughts, the girl strained her ears.
There was indeed something making noise. And it happened to be coming from the closet right next to Johanna. Anthony immediately stepped out in front of her, though he hesitated before reaching towards the door-handle. The teens jumped slightly at the sound of the door opening, even though they had been the ones to do it. Once the hinges had creaked open far enough, the pair peered into the closest.
Three terrified women stared right back at them. One of them gasped at the sight, while the other two huddled closer to the wall.
“Miss! You’re still alive.”
Johanna blinked, mind still trying to process the fact there was no danger.
“If you wish to stay that way you shouldn’t be here much longer!”
The girl only managed to get out, “we’ve only just gotten back-” before the maid cut her off again.
“Why would you want to come back?!” She looked hysterical, and on the verge of leaving the safety of her closet. “Did you not hear them? Those screams?”
“Screams…? Mrs. Lovett?!” Johanna nearly shouted, unintentionally causing the maids and Anthony to jump.
“No woman made those sounds miss. ‘Tis the work of demons and crazed men!”
“The Devil!” The woman in the far closet corner shouted out.
The blonde felt she had little time to question the maids, and her mind was quickly falling to panic. The knowledge someone had been screaming bloody murder in the house was not helping to put her at ease. It meant someone was grievously hurt, and the only wounded people she knew of were Mr. Todd, it was still difficult to think of the man as he father, and Mrs. Lovett. Another thought suddenly occurred to her. Had Mayhew heard the screams? Had the apothecary even made it back? Had he caused it?
Without bothering to take Anthony’s hand, Johanna found herself sprinting down the hall. She found herself not making it very far, and it wasn’t because of the panicked shout of ‘Johanna?’ behind her. The parlor door was open. Two people she had completely forgotten about were in that room. Had something happened to Turpin and the Beadle? She simply stared at the open door, too terrified to go near it.
“Johanna? What is it?” Anthony’s presence soothed her slightly, but she still felt on edge.
“Who could have gotten hurt?” The words were out of her mouth before she knew she had spoken them.
“They’re frightened, they probably have no idea what they’re talking about,” he tried to console her.
“This door was not open when we left Anthony!” Johanna shouted, once more causing the sailor to flinch. “Something happened,” she continued softer. “I know it.”
“Maybe Mayhew-”
Not listening to him, Johanna took steady steps towards the door. After one calming breath she stepped through the threshold. “Oh God…” The sickly feeling of cold fear-induced sweat on her skin felt like nothing compared to the nausea now twisting in her stomach. She leaned heavily on the door way but kept sinking down until Anthony came and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his body becoming still at the sight in the room, though he made no sound.
“Johanna,” he whispered, voice sounding hoarse. “You don’t need to see this.”
Johanna shook her head, tears filling her eyes. She felt she could no longer move. Not so long ago she felt she had made peace with how she felt about Turpin and the Beadle, but seeing them in such a state sent the strangest emotions through her; and she couldn’t help but wonder. Should she feel sad at their passing? Was she supposed to be happy that that chapter in her life and been abruptly and permanently closed? Even if it was in such a violent manner.
“Mrs. Lovett…”
“She couldn’t do this!” Johanna choked out. Anthony’s words fueled her confusion. She was still unable to tell whether it was tears of joy or sadness streaming down her face.
“No! She’s-”
And then she saw them. They seemed to blend in with the violent scene painted right next to them, which only caused the furious hammering of Johanna’s heart to increase. Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd were utterly still, and the girl supposed without all of the blood the scene could have almost been romantic, the way his arms seemed to be wrapped so tightly around her.
“How did they get here..?” She mumbled.
Anthony was disentangling himself from her, about to head towards the pair, but she grabbed his arm. He looked back at her hesitantly, obviously debating on taking her closer to the bodies.
“I’ve already seen it.” Johanna reminded him, the sailor just nodded his head and kept hold of her hand. Though she felt the desire to confirm it with her own eyes, Johanna’s steps were slow and shaky as they moved towards the pair on the ground.
They were two feet away when she felt she couldn’t take it anymore, and collapsed into the closest chair she could find. Anthony watched her a moment before turning his attention back to the floor. He didn’t pause as he sank down to his knees, the fabric of his pants brushed slightly against Mr. Todd’s shoulder. The sailor swallowed down his bile as he stared into the empty face of the man he had thought of as his friend. Sweeney’s ghost-like skin looked gray, and even the shock of ivory in his hair seemed somehow more dull than usual. In fact, aside from the splash of ruby at his mouth and trickles down his chin the barber was devoid of life and all it’s vibrancy. Anthony heard Johanna begin to cry behind him, and he would have turned to comfort her had he not seen it. It was a faint stir, and so soft the was sure his eyes had conjured it up, but in another second he saw that it was true.
“She’s still alive,” he gasped.
Johanna’s tears seemed to abate at the news. “We can’t leave her here,” she finally mumbled
Anthony nodded his head, but even as he lifted is hands to remove the woman from the dead man’s grip, a part of his mind protested. He shook away the feeling and reached out to pry away the barber’s arms. His stomach was on the verge of messily protesting when he finally pried an arm off of Mrs. Lovett. Doing his best to handle his dead friend’s body with care, Anthony slowly lowered the limb to the ground. When he looked back he saw that she had opened her eyes. The sailor’s entire body froze as he watched her slowly move a hand to lay against the barber’s cheek.
“Sweeney…” Her lips didn’t seem to move as she spoke.
“Mrs. Lovett… M’am…” Anthony felt suddenly desperate to get the woman’s focus off of the dead man.
“Sweeney?” Her voice grew louder.
God.. Does she not know he’s dead? “Mrs, Lovett? M’am?” He didn’t feel he had the courage to reach out and touch her.
“Sweeney.” She had propped herself up and was now hovering over his body. “Sweeney…!”
Anthony jumped to his feet, feeling irrationally terrified and guilty. He could feel Johanna at his side, and when he look at her, her look must have mirrored his own. Johanna’s eyes darted between Anthony and Mrs. Lovett, as if trying to find the answer to what had just happened. They both felt as if they had done something incredibly wrong by removing Eleanor from Sweeney’s arms, and as the woman started to cry the pair bolted for the door, not knowing if they could handle what would happen if they stayed in that room.
A heart-breaking scream echoed after them.
--
Chapter 27
Once he was back in his lab, James had slammed the door shut behind him. It took him just a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he shouted profanities to the ceiling. He gripped his head in a fit of desperation, trying to work out his sudden anger. Hadn’t he gotten these emotions out already? Wasn’t he over this? Shouting again, he turned towards one of the shelves and knocked the equipment to the floor. He had taken it so well when she told him… was seeing her with him such a big difference?
Yes.
James let out a small groan, his hands sliding forward to cover his face. A few tears made their way down to soak into his fingers, but the sorrow ended quickly. The apothecary lashed out at his equipment once more, actually kicking the shelf with such force that his knee ached.
Eleven years. He had spent eleven years wondering if the time was right to go talk to her. Obviously she never thought it was the right time to visit him; but what if he had plucked up the courage to go talk to her? Surely things would have worked out differently. They could have worked through the Lucy problem together… Could have been together. Instead he had holed up, stared through his curtains down the street, and spent sleepless nights staring at the ring he had bought her.
Forcefully stomping on the glass on the floor, James moved forward to the tall stack of papers. Sweeping the notes onto the floor he lashed out with his other foot to strike the shelf.
Now both his knees hurt.
Turning sharply to look for something else to destroy, James froze. His eyes landed on the counter where Eleanor had lain after Anthony brought her back. His arms hung limply to his sides as he stared at the spot. Little splashes of her blood stained the wood, and his things were already moved away to make just enough room for her. James sank down to his knees, eyes never leaving the shelf. The erratic breathing he had obtained during his little fit was subsiding, and his mind was slowly going blank. Before Eleanor clouded everything in his mind, one final voluntary thought slipped into his consciousness.
Hate…Sweeney Todd.
--
Anthony held Johanna as close to him as he possibly could, but his eyes never left the door at the end of the hall. Mrs. Lovett’s scream still seemed to echo around them, making him too paranoid to turn his gaze elsewhere.
“Anthony…” Johanna sobbed, her face was buried in his chest and her hands held onto his coat so tight her knuckled had turned white. “What….what did we do?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but no comprehensible sound came out.
“How could- and, and Mr. Todd!”
“Shh,” Anthony finally murmured, still unsure of what to do.
“What- what’re we g-going to do?”
“Shh,” he continued, gently rubbing her back. “It’s going to be fine.” The words seemed to be such a lie it was hard to say them. “We’re going to be fine Johanna.”
“Hu-how do you know?”
I don’t. “I just do,” he mumbled into her hair.
She gave a loud sniff, trying to stop her tears. “But how?”
Before Anthony could reply, a new voice cut into their conversation.
“What did you do to her?”
The teens jumped in surprise, heads nearly colliding as they turned towards the voice. Seeing Mayhew hadn’t been what they expected, as the spoken words had been flat and lifeless. His clothes were badly rumbled and his hair poked up at odd angles. The apothecary’s gray eyes stared listlessly at the teens, as if not really expecting an answer.
“We-we,” Johanna stuttered. “We were just-” and then she gasped when her eyes finally saw the blood. “Mr. Mayhew! Your hand.”
Both he and Anthony turned their attention as she spoke. James held a large shard of glass in one of his hands, it edge barely poking out into view as blood dripped down to the floor from between his fingers.
“Nothing,” he dropped the shard and let his bleeding hand hang limply at his side. “What did you do?” He repeated.
As he asked again they felt less compelled to answer. His odd behavior, the strange feeling of death that surrounded him and the fact he seemed not to care as his own blood slowly dripped to the floor made them wary. At that point it almost seemed he had taken some of his own compound and was turning into a creature with no feeling.
“Why wont you tell me?” James suddenly barked. “I already saw them! Now what did you do?!”
“We didn’t do anything!” Johanna snapped, feeling guilty. “It’s just, Mr. Todd… he’s, he’s dead and-”
It was a faint sound, but it still made the girl stop short. Mayhew was biting his lip but the joy still showed in his eyes. Another moment passed as he stifled his giggles, then his mouth opened to let out a full bellied laugh. He leaned heavily on the wall, tears actually streaming down his face.
James no longer looked happy though, and inbetween laughs he choked out, “she’s going to hate me now.”
Johanna stepped away from Anthony, feeling the strong desire to defend Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett. “How dare you laugh! After everything Mr. Todd has done- everything my father-” She faltered, surprised at the words that had come from her mouth.
Mayhew didn’t seem to notice though, his back was against the wall and he was sliding towards the floor. “That man has done nothing but ruin my life. Without even trying. He and that blonde haired wench he had for a wife.”
Anthony was holding Johanna back before she even realized she had moved. She struggled against him for only a moment before shouting, “how dare you speak ill of my parents!”
“I can speak as I want, Johanna.” James turned his attention to the glass shard he had dropped. He smiled softly and reached out towards it. “Speak how you want before you die. It’s…liberating to really speak your mind.”
Johanna forced her anger away, slightly horrified at the look the apothecary was giving the glass shard. He wasn’t going to… he wouldn’t do such a thing.
“Now at least he wont have her.” The man muttered.
“What do you mean?” She snapped, her voice was still steely but the sailor’s grip on her now was purely cautionary.
“He’s dead.” He repeated. “Bastard took her away, but now he can’t have her.”
“He died holding her!” The blonde countered, determined to bring down the apothecary’s eerily happy mood.
“Then why did she scream?” His eyes flickered up to the teens, the creeping edge of madness now in them.
When Johanna faltered on what to say next, Anthony pulled her back into an embrace. James gave a soft ‘hmph’ in response before returning his attention to the glass.
“Do it!” Johanna screeched, her pushed-over anger easily coming back. “I want to see you do it!”
“Johanna!” Anthony gasped, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to calm her down. “Johanna, please-”
“This is- this is all his, his… his bloody fault! I want to see him die for everything,” her voice broke as she started to cry once more. “Everything he…” She tried to keep breathing, hurriedly blinking at the fast falling tears. “Everything he’s done.” She finished in a whisper.
“Johanna…” Anthony’s mind worked furiously to find a quick solution. He took her shoulders and turned her to face him, not wanting her to spend anymore time encouraging Mayhew to end his life. “Let’s just leave. Right now, go somewhere safe.”
“No where’s safe…”
“We’re going to find a safe place.” The sailor encouraged. He drew on all of his youthful hope to keep himself talking. “We’ll go out and leave this place, find the safest place there is.”
She stayed silent, watching him in amazement as he spoke.
“The- the maids will come with us! And we’ll find survivors and go to that safe place. Johanna, we just need to leave.”
Johanna wanted to tell him what a fool he was, that no such place existed and he was going to die trying to get there. Instead she let him hold her and whispered, “yes, we’ll go.”
--
It had almost been an involuntary response. She had felt his arms around her, and blacked out with the words ‘I love you’ on her lips. Then it was as if he was gone and she had to open her eyes. Seeing him like that, not feeling his arms around her felt wrong. Her mind and memory had immediately tried to shield her and she had to ask his name. He was sleeping, and when she spoke he would just mumble, shift and hold her again. So Eleanor had shouted for him, desperate to ignore the warning bells going off in her head. And then all there was left was to scream. Whatever force had taken Sweeney away from her deserved to hear her grief. Had better hear it and know what they had done.
Then all she had done was hold him and cry, ignoring the faint sounds of life outside the parlor. If they weren’t with her grieving, it didn’t matter. Time was of little importance and she hardly noticed when what had been out-there went out-side. They could go out there to die for all she cared. Eleanor was already at her grave, she just needed to finish fading away.
When footsteps broke the second silence of the house though, she had to lift her head to see who was encroaching on her death bed.
--
After months at sea port could be quite a welcome sight. Especially when you were coming home. When the sailors knew London was so close they couldn’t help but pray the wind would blow harder, take them where the desired to be in a fast manner. Then in the darkness they saw a glow. Though to be fair it was the smoke that had told them first. Their fair city was burning and the wind was against them coming home to save him. The entire crew became agitated and their feet itched to run and save London.
Even before they docked they knew something else was wrong; and the heaviness in the air was what kept half the crew from jumping over board once the docks were in sight. As unappealing as it would have been to hear them, there were no bells, there were no screams. There were no people.
The captain would have gladly moved on if they weren’t in such need of supplies, but even after tying off the boat they hesitated about going ashore.
London could not be empty, yet she burned with only the sound of flames.
One crewmember finally dared to walk the down the gangplank, one hand firmly on the pistol he kept at his waist. The rest of the crew waited on the ship, watching him warily. Crates and barrels were stacked on the dock, some of them knocked over or broken with their goods spilling out. The man stepped carefully around those, as if they contained the plague.
“Leave.”
He yanked the pistol form his belt and whirled in a circle, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Leave.”
Pinpointing the sound, he cocked the pistol and aimed it at a crate to his right. A boy stood by the broken container, a sack over one shoulder and a bloodied board in one hand. “You should leave.” He repeated once more.
The sailor’s mouth fell open in shock at the sight of the boy, and he slowly lowered his gun. The crew on the ship shouted for him to ask questions.
“What-”
“Leave before you die. Spread the word of a plague.”
“Plague? What-”
“S’easier to believe then monsters, innit? I say leave before you spread it.” He snapped, his eyes darted around the crates, and he shifted the board in his hand uneasily.
“Son,” the sailor began slowly. “Why don’t you come with us?”
The child’s eyes flickered back to the man, who suddenly cursed his kindness. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that boy now, whatever he had seen to turn his eyes so cold the sailor did not want to be exposed to.
“No, you should just leave and warn people.”
Giving a jerk of a nod, he ran back towards the waiting crew.
Toby watched the ship leave with little feeling. He had things to do here, there was little point in trying to run away. Turning back to the crates he continued to search for food. When he had run from the judge’s house his feet had taken him here. It had taken quite a bit of thinking to come up with his plan though. Gather food and head for the sewers. The creatures couldn’t climb up or down, and in Toby’s mind the sewers was the perfect place to hide. Encountering any of them down there was unlikely, and aside from the smell the place was perfectly livable. But first he needed food.
Maybe there were survivors to take down into safely. Perhaps he would go back, save his mum, Mr. Todd, Johanna, Anthony and all the others that were in that man’s house.
Maybe he could save people.
END
Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/Part 8
Eleanor had never believed blood tasted sweet. Having bitten the inside of her mouth before and taken hits across the face she had a fair number of times tasting it. On days when she butchered she often got a taste though she tried her best to avoid sampling a stranger’s blood. Needless of how it happened, all of the occasions had left her a bitter taste in her mouth. With Sweeney it was as if something completely different had come in contact with her lips. In her opinion, it was almost like honey, though the last time she had tasted the sweet was many years ago.
Her demon barber was sweet. If Eleanor hadn’t been sobbing into his chest, she would have laughed.
A kiss hadn’t been exactly what she had been expecting, though she welcomed it readily. It was amazing the both of them were still standing (or really kneeling) so when Sweeney held her so tightly she was amazed at his strength. The taste of him had been very distracting, but it hadn’t taken the baker very long to know something was wrong. Well, a number of things were, but something had finally caused debilitating damage.
The mingled taste of the barber and his victims was quickly imbalanced when his blood flowed strongly out of his parted lips.
Eleanor had become annoyingly calm when he pulled away from her to try and cough away the blood. She had just held him tightly with the strength he had possessed moments ago as he became nearly slack in her arms.
A traitorous little voice in the back of her mind whispered, he’s dieing.
Sweeney was never one to let something slow him down, as he had proven again and again through his struggle to survive all that day and the past fifteen years of his life. Feeling tired, his pain becoming a dull ache that accompanied darkening vision- he felt angry. After everything he had done that day, murdering two people was going to be what sent him over the edge? That coupled with the message he had in mind for the woman holding him fueled his sour mood- though he had little strength to act on it. The damaged parts of him that he had ignored and bullied into functioning were calling it quits- and the fact his body was abandoning him was what enraged Sweeney the most.
He was on his back and he wasn’t quite sure how he got there. Nellie had probably lowered him down, though at he moment she was clinging to his side, her head tucked against his neck and shoulder. Of everything, all he seemed to feel were her tears on his skin. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but all that did was send more blood into his lungs.
How the hell was he going to tell her something if he couldn’t speak?
Pulling together what was left of his strength Sweeney barely managed to move his arms around his little baker. Her tears seemed to stop for a moment as he slowly tightened his hold. Though plan B was in effect, he still tried to speak. The second attempt heightened his feeling of suffocation. He was drowning in his own blood.
His arms still pulled her closer, trying to hold her tighter. The obvious fact that he couldn’t speak made him all the more determined to tell her.
Even if the world was so shadowed and colorless that it made him wonder if his eyes were still open.
So what if one of his lungs was useless- finally run through with his broken rib? He had inadvertently rescued his daughter, avenged his wife and killed the men responsible for fifteen years of hell in his life. Looking back on it all, Sweeney realized he had fulfilled his promises to himself and others. With one last thing to do and no way to do it, his life felt slightly less fulfilled.
Was she still next to him? He couldn’t feel her. Sweeney couldn’t give her a message if she wasn’t around to hear it!
For, despite the little things he had done that day, he needed to tell her to make it real.
Sweeney Todd had to tell Eleanor Lovett that he cared for her, so it could become a solid fact and not just a dream.
He couldn’t see and all sensation had long since left his limbs, but before he fully slipped away the barber fancied he heard someone whisper ‘I love you’ in his ear.
--
London nights always had a life of their own, but this night was certainly different.
Both Anthony and Johanna had harbored a secret hope that the monsters that emerged that day would not be a lasting problem, but everything they saw and heard that night swept away that small hope. Lanterns that would have softly lit the streets and front of houses were cold and unlit, but a glow in the distance showed that the fire that had been started early that night still raged on. The two teens doubted there was anyone left to put it out. They had searched in vain for Toby, only finding blood, creatures and broken buildings.
Mayhew’s departure back to the judge’s house felt like years ago, making it increasingly difficult for the pair to tell time. All the managed to reason it was now their turn to come back to the haven.
They had not found Toby’s body, so that left a small hope in them. The small hope that the young boy was alive.
It did not help them feel any better as they ran, scuttled and ducked their way back to the judge’s house. Johanna had felt a heaviness in her heart through the whole mission, almost feeling as if she owed it to Mrs. Lovett to bring back her boy. Thinking of the baker made the girl wonder if the woman was even still alive. She pushed the thought away, turning her attention to Anthony, who was looking around the edge of a building. Apparently deeming it clear enough to cross, he held a hand back for her to take. They had taken to running between shadowed alley’s, the silence of the city fueling their paranoia.
Johanna grasped his hand tightly, trying to prepare herself for what felt like another run across open ground. All of the running and hiding had begun to make her feel like a rabbit caught under the barrel of a rifle.
“Ready?” Anthony whispered.
She just nodded in response. If they hadn’t gotten too turned around in their search for Toby, Johanna figured they were only a few streets away from Turpin’s home.
--
It was like walking into the home of a stranger. All of the familiar sounds were replaced by silence, or the creak of worn floors. The safe place Johanna had been running towards no longer seemed safe. Anthony squeezed her hand, and lead the hesitant girl forward. She shuffled slowly after him, casting suspicious glances at wall hangings she had once walked by without a second glance. Johanna didn’t even have to strain her ears to hear the sound of the city burning, and the thought of how close the fire could be made her shiver.
Anthony’s steps wavered and Johanna found herself stop moving instantly. “What is it?” She whispered, it didn’t seem right to speak loudly.
“I think I hear something.” The sailor mumbled back.
Of course you can hear something, it’s the world falling apart. Instead of voicing her thoughts, the girl strained her ears.
There was indeed something making noise. And it happened to be coming from the closet right next to Johanna. Anthony immediately stepped out in front of her, though he hesitated before reaching towards the door-handle. The teens jumped slightly at the sound of the door opening, even though they had been the ones to do it. Once the hinges had creaked open far enough, the pair peered into the closest.
Three terrified women stared right back at them. One of them gasped at the sight, while the other two huddled closer to the wall.
“Miss! You’re still alive.”
Johanna blinked, mind still trying to process the fact there was no danger.
“If you wish to stay that way you shouldn’t be here much longer!”
The girl only managed to get out, “we’ve only just gotten back-” before the maid cut her off again.
“Why would you want to come back?!” She looked hysterical, and on the verge of leaving the safety of her closet. “Did you not hear them? Those screams?”
“Screams…? Mrs. Lovett?!” Johanna nearly shouted, unintentionally causing the maids and Anthony to jump.
“No woman made those sounds miss. ‘Tis the work of demons and crazed men!”
“The Devil!” The woman in the far closet corner shouted out.
The blonde felt she had little time to question the maids, and her mind was quickly falling to panic. The knowledge someone had been screaming bloody murder in the house was not helping to put her at ease. It meant someone was grievously hurt, and the only wounded people she knew of were Mr. Todd, it was still difficult to think of the man as he father, and Mrs. Lovett. Another thought suddenly occurred to her. Had Mayhew heard the screams? Had the apothecary even made it back? Had he caused it?
Without bothering to take Anthony’s hand, Johanna found herself sprinting down the hall. She found herself not making it very far, and it wasn’t because of the panicked shout of ‘Johanna?’ behind her. The parlor door was open. Two people she had completely forgotten about were in that room. Had something happened to Turpin and the Beadle? She simply stared at the open door, too terrified to go near it.
“Johanna? What is it?” Anthony’s presence soothed her slightly, but she still felt on edge.
“Who could have gotten hurt?” The words were out of her mouth before she knew she had spoken them.
“They’re frightened, they probably have no idea what they’re talking about,” he tried to console her.
“This door was not open when we left Anthony!” Johanna shouted, once more causing the sailor to flinch. “Something happened,” she continued softer. “I know it.”
“Maybe Mayhew-”
Not listening to him, Johanna took steady steps towards the door. After one calming breath she stepped through the threshold. “Oh God…” The sickly feeling of cold fear-induced sweat on her skin felt like nothing compared to the nausea now twisting in her stomach. She leaned heavily on the door way but kept sinking down until Anthony came and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his body becoming still at the sight in the room, though he made no sound.
“Johanna,” he whispered, voice sounding hoarse. “You don’t need to see this.”
Johanna shook her head, tears filling her eyes. She felt she could no longer move. Not so long ago she felt she had made peace with how she felt about Turpin and the Beadle, but seeing them in such a state sent the strangest emotions through her; and she couldn’t help but wonder. Should she feel sad at their passing? Was she supposed to be happy that that chapter in her life and been abruptly and permanently closed? Even if it was in such a violent manner.
“Mrs. Lovett…”
“She couldn’t do this!” Johanna choked out. Anthony’s words fueled her confusion. She was still unable to tell whether it was tears of joy or sadness streaming down her face.
“No! She’s-”
And then she saw them. They seemed to blend in with the violent scene painted right next to them, which only caused the furious hammering of Johanna’s heart to increase. Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd were utterly still, and the girl supposed without all of the blood the scene could have almost been romantic, the way his arms seemed to be wrapped so tightly around her.
“How did they get here..?” She mumbled.
Anthony was disentangling himself from her, about to head towards the pair, but she grabbed his arm. He looked back at her hesitantly, obviously debating on taking her closer to the bodies.
“I’ve already seen it.” Johanna reminded him, the sailor just nodded his head and kept hold of her hand. Though she felt the desire to confirm it with her own eyes, Johanna’s steps were slow and shaky as they moved towards the pair on the ground.
They were two feet away when she felt she couldn’t take it anymore, and collapsed into the closest chair she could find. Anthony watched her a moment before turning his attention back to the floor. He didn’t pause as he sank down to his knees, the fabric of his pants brushed slightly against Mr. Todd’s shoulder. The sailor swallowed down his bile as he stared into the empty face of the man he had thought of as his friend. Sweeney’s ghost-like skin looked gray, and even the shock of ivory in his hair seemed somehow more dull than usual. In fact, aside from the splash of ruby at his mouth and trickles down his chin the barber was devoid of life and all it’s vibrancy. Anthony heard Johanna begin to cry behind him, and he would have turned to comfort her had he not seen it. It was a faint stir, and so soft the was sure his eyes had conjured it up, but in another second he saw that it was true.
“She’s still alive,” he gasped.
Johanna’s tears seemed to abate at the news. “We can’t leave her here,” she finally mumbled
Anthony nodded his head, but even as he lifted is hands to remove the woman from the dead man’s grip, a part of his mind protested. He shook away the feeling and reached out to pry away the barber’s arms. His stomach was on the verge of messily protesting when he finally pried an arm off of Mrs. Lovett. Doing his best to handle his dead friend’s body with care, Anthony slowly lowered the limb to the ground. When he looked back he saw that she had opened her eyes. The sailor’s entire body froze as he watched her slowly move a hand to lay against the barber’s cheek.
“Sweeney…” Her lips didn’t seem to move as she spoke.
“Mrs. Lovett… M’am…” Anthony felt suddenly desperate to get the woman’s focus off of the dead man.
“Sweeney?” Her voice grew louder.
God.. Does she not know he’s dead? “Mrs, Lovett? M’am?” He didn’t feel he had the courage to reach out and touch her.
“Sweeney.” She had propped herself up and was now hovering over his body. “Sweeney…!”
Anthony jumped to his feet, feeling irrationally terrified and guilty. He could feel Johanna at his side, and when he look at her, her look must have mirrored his own. Johanna’s eyes darted between Anthony and Mrs. Lovett, as if trying to find the answer to what had just happened. They both felt as if they had done something incredibly wrong by removing Eleanor from Sweeney’s arms, and as the woman started to cry the pair bolted for the door, not knowing if they could handle what would happen if they stayed in that room.
A heart-breaking scream echoed after them.
--
Chapter 27
Once he was back in his lab, James had slammed the door shut behind him. It took him just a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he shouted profanities to the ceiling. He gripped his head in a fit of desperation, trying to work out his sudden anger. Hadn’t he gotten these emotions out already? Wasn’t he over this? Shouting again, he turned towards one of the shelves and knocked the equipment to the floor. He had taken it so well when she told him… was seeing her with him such a big difference?
Yes.
James let out a small groan, his hands sliding forward to cover his face. A few tears made their way down to soak into his fingers, but the sorrow ended quickly. The apothecary lashed out at his equipment once more, actually kicking the shelf with such force that his knee ached.
Eleven years. He had spent eleven years wondering if the time was right to go talk to her. Obviously she never thought it was the right time to visit him; but what if he had plucked up the courage to go talk to her? Surely things would have worked out differently. They could have worked through the Lucy problem together… Could have been together. Instead he had holed up, stared through his curtains down the street, and spent sleepless nights staring at the ring he had bought her.
Forcefully stomping on the glass on the floor, James moved forward to the tall stack of papers. Sweeping the notes onto the floor he lashed out with his other foot to strike the shelf.
Now both his knees hurt.
Turning sharply to look for something else to destroy, James froze. His eyes landed on the counter where Eleanor had lain after Anthony brought her back. His arms hung limply to his sides as he stared at the spot. Little splashes of her blood stained the wood, and his things were already moved away to make just enough room for her. James sank down to his knees, eyes never leaving the shelf. The erratic breathing he had obtained during his little fit was subsiding, and his mind was slowly going blank. Before Eleanor clouded everything in his mind, one final voluntary thought slipped into his consciousness.
Hate…Sweeney Todd.
--
Anthony held Johanna as close to him as he possibly could, but his eyes never left the door at the end of the hall. Mrs. Lovett’s scream still seemed to echo around them, making him too paranoid to turn his gaze elsewhere.
“Anthony…” Johanna sobbed, her face was buried in his chest and her hands held onto his coat so tight her knuckled had turned white. “What….what did we do?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but no comprehensible sound came out.
“How could- and, and Mr. Todd!”
“Shh,” Anthony finally murmured, still unsure of what to do.
“What- what’re we g-going to do?”
“Shh,” he continued, gently rubbing her back. “It’s going to be fine.” The words seemed to be such a lie it was hard to say them. “We’re going to be fine Johanna.”
“Hu-how do you know?”
I don’t. “I just do,” he mumbled into her hair.
She gave a loud sniff, trying to stop her tears. “But how?”
Before Anthony could reply, a new voice cut into their conversation.
“What did you do to her?”
The teens jumped in surprise, heads nearly colliding as they turned towards the voice. Seeing Mayhew hadn’t been what they expected, as the spoken words had been flat and lifeless. His clothes were badly rumbled and his hair poked up at odd angles. The apothecary’s gray eyes stared listlessly at the teens, as if not really expecting an answer.
“We-we,” Johanna stuttered. “We were just-” and then she gasped when her eyes finally saw the blood. “Mr. Mayhew! Your hand.”
Both he and Anthony turned their attention as she spoke. James held a large shard of glass in one of his hands, it edge barely poking out into view as blood dripped down to the floor from between his fingers.
“Nothing,” he dropped the shard and let his bleeding hand hang limply at his side. “What did you do?” He repeated.
As he asked again they felt less compelled to answer. His odd behavior, the strange feeling of death that surrounded him and the fact he seemed not to care as his own blood slowly dripped to the floor made them wary. At that point it almost seemed he had taken some of his own compound and was turning into a creature with no feeling.
“Why wont you tell me?” James suddenly barked. “I already saw them! Now what did you do?!”
“We didn’t do anything!” Johanna snapped, feeling guilty. “It’s just, Mr. Todd… he’s, he’s dead and-”
It was a faint sound, but it still made the girl stop short. Mayhew was biting his lip but the joy still showed in his eyes. Another moment passed as he stifled his giggles, then his mouth opened to let out a full bellied laugh. He leaned heavily on the wall, tears actually streaming down his face.
James no longer looked happy though, and inbetween laughs he choked out, “she’s going to hate me now.”
Johanna stepped away from Anthony, feeling the strong desire to defend Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett. “How dare you laugh! After everything Mr. Todd has done- everything my father-” She faltered, surprised at the words that had come from her mouth.
Mayhew didn’t seem to notice though, his back was against the wall and he was sliding towards the floor. “That man has done nothing but ruin my life. Without even trying. He and that blonde haired wench he had for a wife.”
Anthony was holding Johanna back before she even realized she had moved. She struggled against him for only a moment before shouting, “how dare you speak ill of my parents!”
“I can speak as I want, Johanna.” James turned his attention to the glass shard he had dropped. He smiled softly and reached out towards it. “Speak how you want before you die. It’s…liberating to really speak your mind.”
Johanna forced her anger away, slightly horrified at the look the apothecary was giving the glass shard. He wasn’t going to… he wouldn’t do such a thing.
“Now at least he wont have her.” The man muttered.
“What do you mean?” She snapped, her voice was still steely but the sailor’s grip on her now was purely cautionary.
“He’s dead.” He repeated. “Bastard took her away, but now he can’t have her.”
“He died holding her!” The blonde countered, determined to bring down the apothecary’s eerily happy mood.
“Then why did she scream?” His eyes flickered up to the teens, the creeping edge of madness now in them.
When Johanna faltered on what to say next, Anthony pulled her back into an embrace. James gave a soft ‘hmph’ in response before returning his attention to the glass.
“Do it!” Johanna screeched, her pushed-over anger easily coming back. “I want to see you do it!”
“Johanna!” Anthony gasped, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to calm her down. “Johanna, please-”
“This is- this is all his, his… his bloody fault! I want to see him die for everything,” her voice broke as she started to cry once more. “Everything he…” She tried to keep breathing, hurriedly blinking at the fast falling tears. “Everything he’s done.” She finished in a whisper.
“Johanna…” Anthony’s mind worked furiously to find a quick solution. He took her shoulders and turned her to face him, not wanting her to spend anymore time encouraging Mayhew to end his life. “Let’s just leave. Right now, go somewhere safe.”
“No where’s safe…”
“We’re going to find a safe place.” The sailor encouraged. He drew on all of his youthful hope to keep himself talking. “We’ll go out and leave this place, find the safest place there is.”
She stayed silent, watching him in amazement as he spoke.
“The- the maids will come with us! And we’ll find survivors and go to that safe place. Johanna, we just need to leave.”
Johanna wanted to tell him what a fool he was, that no such place existed and he was going to die trying to get there. Instead she let him hold her and whispered, “yes, we’ll go.”
--
It had almost been an involuntary response. She had felt his arms around her, and blacked out with the words ‘I love you’ on her lips. Then it was as if he was gone and she had to open her eyes. Seeing him like that, not feeling his arms around her felt wrong. Her mind and memory had immediately tried to shield her and she had to ask his name. He was sleeping, and when she spoke he would just mumble, shift and hold her again. So Eleanor had shouted for him, desperate to ignore the warning bells going off in her head. And then all there was left was to scream. Whatever force had taken Sweeney away from her deserved to hear her grief. Had better hear it and know what they had done.
Then all she had done was hold him and cry, ignoring the faint sounds of life outside the parlor. If they weren’t with her grieving, it didn’t matter. Time was of little importance and she hardly noticed when what had been out-there went out-side. They could go out there to die for all she cared. Eleanor was already at her grave, she just needed to finish fading away.
When footsteps broke the second silence of the house though, she had to lift her head to see who was encroaching on her death bed.
--
After months at sea port could be quite a welcome sight. Especially when you were coming home. When the sailors knew London was so close they couldn’t help but pray the wind would blow harder, take them where the desired to be in a fast manner. Then in the darkness they saw a glow. Though to be fair it was the smoke that had told them first. Their fair city was burning and the wind was against them coming home to save him. The entire crew became agitated and their feet itched to run and save London.
Even before they docked they knew something else was wrong; and the heaviness in the air was what kept half the crew from jumping over board once the docks were in sight. As unappealing as it would have been to hear them, there were no bells, there were no screams. There were no people.
The captain would have gladly moved on if they weren’t in such need of supplies, but even after tying off the boat they hesitated about going ashore.
London could not be empty, yet she burned with only the sound of flames.
One crewmember finally dared to walk the down the gangplank, one hand firmly on the pistol he kept at his waist. The rest of the crew waited on the ship, watching him warily. Crates and barrels were stacked on the dock, some of them knocked over or broken with their goods spilling out. The man stepped carefully around those, as if they contained the plague.
“Leave.”
He yanked the pistol form his belt and whirled in a circle, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Leave.”
Pinpointing the sound, he cocked the pistol and aimed it at a crate to his right. A boy stood by the broken container, a sack over one shoulder and a bloodied board in one hand. “You should leave.” He repeated once more.
The sailor’s mouth fell open in shock at the sight of the boy, and he slowly lowered his gun. The crew on the ship shouted for him to ask questions.
“What-”
“Leave before you die. Spread the word of a plague.”
“Plague? What-”
“S’easier to believe then monsters, innit? I say leave before you spread it.” He snapped, his eyes darted around the crates, and he shifted the board in his hand uneasily.
“Son,” the sailor began slowly. “Why don’t you come with us?”
The child’s eyes flickered back to the man, who suddenly cursed his kindness. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that boy now, whatever he had seen to turn his eyes so cold the sailor did not want to be exposed to.
“No, you should just leave and warn people.”
Giving a jerk of a nod, he ran back towards the waiting crew.
Toby watched the ship leave with little feeling. He had things to do here, there was little point in trying to run away. Turning back to the crates he continued to search for food. When he had run from the judge’s house his feet had taken him here. It had taken quite a bit of thinking to come up with his plan though. Gather food and head for the sewers. The creatures couldn’t climb up or down, and in Toby’s mind the sewers was the perfect place to hide. Encountering any of them down there was unlikely, and aside from the smell the place was perfectly livable. But first he needed food.
Maybe there were survivors to take down into safely. Perhaps he would go back, save his mum, Mr. Todd, Johanna, Anthony and all the others that were in that man’s house.
Maybe he could save people.
END
Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/Part 8