Miss Nightingale’s fists clenched, her knuckles turning white as the nails bit painfully into her palms. A ferocious pounding throbbed in her ears, drowning out any other sound while her gaze locked onto the silk-robed figure that had just stepped into the room.
The creature’s head tilted, dark shadows obscuring its face, before it slowly glanced up. Miss Nightingale let out a sharp gasp as their eyes met.
The eyes that looked back at her weren’t the green slit-pupiled eyes she had been expecting; they were a striking crystal blue. Its skin was smooth and fair, and locks of vibrant red hair tumbled down over her face and spilled out from beneath the crimson hood.
Miss Nightingale took a step backwards. She had steeled herself to face Miao or some other cold-blooded beast like her. Instead, what stood in front of her was a young woman, her fine features bathed in the gentle flickering light of the jade lamps. No older than twenty or so, by Miss Nightingale’s estimation.
“It’s alright, Miss,” the redheaded girl said, her voice carrying a strange, gentle lilt. The broad brogue of the Irish somehow mingled seamlessly with the soft, musical tones of the Welsh Valleys. It was the accent of someone who had wandered far but never found a place to settle.
To Miss Nightingale, it was an accent that echoed back to the crowded wards of Scutari, reminding her of that tragic muddle of geographies that had made up the Empire’s desperate and dying.
“I’ve come to help you,” the girl added softly, stepping into the light. “To get you out of here.”
Tilting her head slightly, Miss Nightingale’s eyes narrowed, taking in this new arrival. She clasped her hands tightly behind her. Her spine felt as stiff as a dried splint and her shoulders were tight and rigid as she forced herself upright.
“Who are you? What’s your name?” she asked in a low voice. “You’re one of Miss Walters‘ girls?”
“Miss Kelly, but they like to call me Marie Jeanette,” the girl answered, her eyes drifting to the floor. “They say it makes me sound sophisticated, and the gentlemen pay more for a sophisticated girl. Really, I’m just plain old Mary Jane. I work here, yes, miss. It ain’t as if a girl like me has much choice to do otherwise, but I ain’t one of them… them things.”
“Listen to me, miss, you ain’t safe here,” Miss Kelly added urgently, looking back up into Miss Nightingale’s eyes. “I ain’t like the rest of ‘em. I’ve seen enough blood to last me ten lifetimes, and I don’t fancy yours on my conscience.”
“Very well, Miss Kelly,” Miss Nightingale said, taking a deep breath. “If you truly wish to help me, I need you to tell me where they’ve taken Mr Dickens?”
Miss Kelly’s feet shifted, her shoulders visibly quivering under her robe. “The gentleman in the fancy purple suit and flash waistcoat?” she asked quietly. “If he’s with Miss Miao, she’ll have taken him back to her private chambers.”
“Then you need to take me there.” Miss Nightingale’s voice became taut, her tone clipped.
“If Miss Miao’s got her claws into him proper, miss, there ain’t much anyone can do for him.”
“Then we had better hurry then, hadn’t we, Miss Kelly!” she said sharply, her composure finally cracking.
****
Through the perfumed haze, Charles – if that was indeed his name – followed the languid form of Miao. The gentle sway of her hips was a mesmerising rhythm as she glided along. The diaphanous silk of her robe shimmered around her like a faint haze, a soft whisper against her skin. All around him, a kaleidoscope of colours swirled – fiery reds, vibrant greens and deep blues. All intertwining and mingling into a dazzling, hypnotic dance of light.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, my darling?” the sweet music of her voice caressed his ears, soft as a handkerchief of the finest silk. “But this is just the beginning of the wonders and beauties we’ll share together.”
He parted his lips to answer, but the shape, the sounds slipped through his mind.
Thoughts and images formed and then evaporated. Vanishing before he could grasp them, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. Shapes without names, words without meaning.
Visions drifted before his eyes, cold desaturated images of memories. Memories of the past, the present and the future came and went as if the very fabric of time itself twisted around him before that too faded into nothing.
There was nothing, the universe was nothing but an infinite, empty void.
There was only Charles and Miao.
“Come, my sweet,” her voice beckoned him forward.
The vortex began to pulse and the vibrant, shifting colours parted. A brilliant, searing beam of pure blue light slashed down from above, gradually widening.
Dazzled, he blinked his eyes against the brilliant glare. Moments later, the light receded, and where it had been, now stood an opening into a room.
At least he thought it was called a room.
Following Miao, he stepped through the crackling hiss of the portal and into a vast, round chamber. Beneath his feet was a floor of hard, pale blue stone, inlaid with gold bejewelled fish that glinted and shimmered, swimming lazily across its surface. Surrounding him, deep red walls rose a hundred feet into the sky. Overhead, thousands of twinkling stars streaked past, spinning in their annual cycles, as if time hurtled by at the most unnatural rate – years flashing before his eyes in mere seconds.
Her hand closed around his. Her soft fur was warm against his palm, but beneath, retracted claws pricked with a delicious sharpness against his fingers.
“Come,” she said, her voice like a silken breath against his ear. “Sit with me.”
She led him to a pile of cushions in the centre of the chamber. Together they sank down, the soft, luxurious velvet engulfing them. The radiant warmth of her body, pressed closely to his enveloped him.
“You are lucky, Mr Dickens,” she breathed softly. “Few men get to experience what we’re going to share with you.”
Her hand settled softly on his knee, her beautiful emerald eyes fixing on his, locking him once more into that mesmerising spell.
“Are you ready, Mr Dickens?” she whispered, unblinking. “Are you ready to give yourself over to me completely?”
Her touch was hot, its heat radiating through his fine woollen trousers. The smell of her heady perfume flooded his senses. Of course he would give himself over to her. Was there anything else in the entire world that mattered more?
A faint whisper stirred in the back of his mind, a forgotten memory. Was he supposed to be doing something? Looking for someone? A name flickered in his thoughts like the flame of a candle dancing in the wind. Florence? For a moment he had it, then the candle flame flickered one last time and was gone. Snuffed out by the radiance of Miao’s smile, her intoxicating scent, and the sweet delights that she offered him.
There was no one else. There was only Miao.
The stars above flashed past, all the colours of the cosmos blurring and blending together. The fish sparked, their diamonds, rubies and emeralds glinting magically under the ethereal starlight.