Picking up Sarah, she coos happily in my arms. Her chubby fingers wrap around my ruby pendant, the refection of the red gem glints in her baby blue eyes.
“You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? What do you think, baby Sarah? Do you love me yet?”
She shakes the gem in her tiny fist in response. I smile down at her pristine face, unmarred by time and wonder what she thinks about.
As I hold her, I hear the distant sound of Barrett arriving home and feel my stomach clench in response. Things in his office had become heated quickly, not that I’m complaining. My knees still feel weak in the most delicious way from the rough way he handled me. Smiling, I rub my thumb down her cheek.
Suddenly, the noise from downstairs intensifies. It no longer sounds as if Barrett is putting away his coat and removing his shoes. A loud crash reverberates up the stairs, startling Sarah. She yanks my necklace and the clasp in the back of my neck gives with a small metallic pop. Eyes wide as saucers, I let out a gasp as I watch my pendant slip. The ruby dangles in her hands before she lets go, the gem careening for the floor. My heart seems to stop in my chest as the tip crashes against the wood. It hits once, twice, three times before stopping just before the door.
Another loud crash comes from down the stairs, and I hurriedly put Sarah in her crib as her face turns an angry red before fat tears roll down her cheeks. “I’ll be right back, love.”
Grabbing my skirts, I hoist them up to avoid tripping over them as I make for the doorway. Dipping down, I go to grab my pendant but as soon as my fingertips hit the gem, a large black boot comes crashing down on my hand. I let out a shriek, sending Sarah’s wails into even more of a frenzy. Looking up to the owner of said boot, my chest squeezes with dread as my eyes clap onto the menacing stare of one supposedly long dead ex-fiancé, Charles.
A gaping hole from his missing eye socket greets me as shock courses through my limbs. His hair has gone shock white, and wrinkles and scars have consumed his once youthful face, but I know it’s him.
“Hello, Marigold. Surprised to see me?”
Knees quaking and hand stinging from the pressure of his boot, I find myself at a loss for words. My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water. Though older, his voice sounds the exact same. The rough timber sends a shiver down my spine.
A loud piercing squawk comes from behind me as Alfred and a few more of my birds come swooping towards Charles. He’s ready for them though and brandishes a revolver from his inside breast pocket.
I shove at his knees, knocking him off my hand and he wobbles just enough that his shot goes wide, missing Alfred by an inch. Grabbing the broken necklace, I shove it into my front skirt pocket hoping beyond hope that it’s not irreparably damaged. Sarah’s cries become hysterical as I manage to crawl to the crib. Alfred and my other birds dive at his marred hand and face. He fights them off easily, aiming the gun right at my face.
“What’s that saying, love? Oh yes. An eye for an eye.” The gun moves over to my left eye, and I feel myself begin to shake as the revolver twists to fill the empty chamber. I snap my fingers by my side uselessly, not a spark of magic to be seen as my senses shut down, focusing on the black barrel of death staring at me, ready to blow me away into oblivion. They say your life flashes before your eyes in moments like this, but nothing of the sort happens to me. Instead, my mind is a blank. Seizing up into nothingness. A whooshing in my ears drowns out the sounds around me to a muffled high-pitched humming. My eyes blink slowly in disbelief as his finger squeezes against the trigger.
This can’t be how I go. Shivering on my knees, taken out by my ex-fiancé who cheated on me with my sister. I refuse.
My fingers brush against the pendant in my pocket and a surge of power hits my veins. With a snap, the tip of the gun flickers morphing into a telescope.
“Damn you to hell, Marigold!” Charles exclaims, as the birds make another pass at him, this time drawing blood. He swings the transformed gun at the birds erratically, his mouth turned down in a snarl.
“I thought I killed you once before. I won’t make the mistake of not checking again.” I say, snapping my fingers one final time, unveiling a broad sword in my hands that I’ve conjured though my magic is quickly waning. Thankfully, it holds long enough for me to point it straight at his throat with a smirk gracing my lips. I think I’m going to enjoy being the last thing Charles Fairweather ever sees.
“Goodbye, Charles.”
BARRETT
My head is throbbing. Eyes blurry and feet unsteady, I clumsily make my way up the staircase. Steps sluggish with blood dripping down the side of my face, I move on instinct, intent on getting to my child, whose cries pierce my splitting headache.
I can’t seem to recall what’s happened and why I’m bleeding. Perhaps I fell. Stopping half-way to catch my breath, I look into the mirror that’s been knocked askew from its normal position. I press my finger against the frame, pushing it back into place. As I do, a flicker of a womanly figure appears behind me. I blink my eyes hard, and it disappears.
I must be seeing things. I could have sworn the form looked just like Marigold. Looking behind me, the space is empty. Definitely seeing things, I decide.
Touching my fingers to the glass, a vision of my wife bleeding out before me like she did the night she died assaults my sight. I wrench my hand away from the mirror, shaking my head and almost losing my footing. Gripping onto the rail, I run hearing Harriet’s lilting laughter echoing behind me as my feet pound up and up and up.
It takes everything in me to stay upright. My muscles shaking with the effort, black spots threatening to overtake my vision as I push my legs to carry me.Just a bit further. Sweat dribbles down my back in fat salty rivulets, soaking through my double-breasted coat. I’m a mess, hanging on by a thread intent on making it to my wailing child.
“I’m- I’m coming.” My chapped lips wheeze. Feet stumbling, I finally make it to the top swaying slightly as a high-pitched ringing in my ears assaults my senses.
I swear I can smell blood.
The sickly-sweet metallic tang hangs in the air. A small tug pulls at my leg and I look down, finding Royland’s hand clutched around my trousers.
“A bad, bad man is in the nursery.” His mouth opens in a small gasp and exaggeratedly claps both hands over his mouth. “Are you bleeding? Did the bad man hurt you too?”
Too?
Bile rises in my throat as I realize the crying has stopped. I push my way into the room finding Marigold standing over a crumpled man’s figure, blood seeping into the carpet with Sarah held tightly on her hip.
