Vagrants of London

“Til, Til.” Oliver whispered frantically from across the street.

“What?” I replied from my street corner. My misty breath was

caught up with the chilling night air and carried away somewhere

unbeknownst to me. “Get over here!’ Oliver’s usually laughing voice

had become more desperate.

“I’m coming.” Again the icy wind captured my breath and whisked it

away. I knew Oliver was becoming impatient with me, however I was

finding it more difficult to carry out our plan than I had anticipated.

Suddenly a cold gust of bone chilling air blew through Ten downing

Street carrying with it the screams of Dowager’s Orphanage and its

unfortunate occupants. The disturbing sound sent shivers down my

spine, the hairs on my neck stood straight up as a dog’s.

“Tildon, hurry, before we’re caught-or worse.” The unnatural sounds

coming from the orphanage brought an ill omen with it, I was certain.

I sprinted down the street, afraid to flight but ashamed to run. The

Dark revenants of London’s midnight were all but upon me as I

rounded the street corner- and collided with Oliver.


“Are you daft?!” Oliver angrily inquired after gathering himself from

the rancid alley floor and brushed himself off. “I thought you were

an eidolon or something of the sort.” The older boys tone suggested

no empathy, as it rarely did. After he took me off the streets and

rescued me from the harsh life of a vagabond, I quickly became

accustomed to his strange ways.

“I’m sorry”- “Don’t be, just don’t do it again.” His chiding voice

reminded me of the reason we had come here, despite so many

risks.


As we came in sight of the Grande Mistress’s estate I realized the

full gravity of our situation. The great mansion rose up out of the

darkness to stand, imposing upon the lush, green acres on which

occupied. An array of Illuminated glass windows, lighted from

the inside gave the aura of nobility to the entirety of the hall. As if

to spite the bright windows, the rest of the manor stood in caliginous

gloom, the orphic surroundings a preceding to the coming events.



Ch.#2

As we neared the gates of the Dame’s manor, my thoughts strayed

To my former life, perhaps I was better suited to the fate of a street

Rogue. Stop, Tildon, I thought, Oliver didn’t take you off the streets

so you could become a coward in the face of slight danger. I

struggled to keep up with the older boy’s long stride, yet Oliver was

uneasy, even nervous, unusual to say the least. The waxing moon

hung in the darkness, a livid reminder of the task before us. Her

baleful face bright and full against a star glazed sky.

The long walkway leading up to the main gate was decorated with

Marble stones, their glossy surfaces reflecting the sky above.

Suddenly, a tall gate rose from out of the gloom, sinister spikes

Protruding from it’s top, high above my head. Its great mass

Intimidating in the murk of the night. The width must have spanned

Eighty feet, it’s height fifty feet or more. We came to and abrupt stop

Not an arms width from the gate. “That was strange.” Oliver’s

Voice came from a few feet away. I stood in place, dumbly

Gawking up at the enormous columns of solid black steel, rising

Up from the darkness. “Don’t just stand there, help me get over this.”

Oliver’s voice came again, I wondered why I couldn’t see him.

“Oliver, where are you?” I questioned, my voice floating into the

surrounding darkness.

“Over here, on the left side of the gate.” He replied. I carefully

walked to the left side and there was Oliver, making a feeble attempt

to scale our present nemesis. I let out an audible sigh of relief and

boosted Oliver up, despite my present doubts about his ability to

climb up and over the huge steel entryway.
Ch. #3

“Oomph!” Oliver’s frustrated grunt came from the ground at my feet, his bruised body rolled over on its back. I had no trouble envisioning the defeated expression that was no doubt taking occupancy over his young face, in spite of the surrounding gloom.
My older companion rose to his feet, an obscured figure in the encompassing murk of the night. “Help me, Til. We’ve got to find a w-. His words were cut short by the ominous creaking of the opening gate. A horrendous wining sound enveloped us, sending my hands shooting up to my ears with lighting speed. “Aaaaaah!” My voice sounded frail in comparison with that of the gate’s. Suddenly a flying globe of blue light swept through the air before us, then as quickly as it had appeared, vanished from sight. The force of the explosion of light, if it could be called that, had knocked me and Oliver to the cold ground. “Til, g-get up, c-come see this.” Came Oliver’s trembling voice. I rose to my feet, my head burning from the impact of the ground smashing into my skull. Heart pounding, I turned to gaze upon a necropolis of half buried bones, their livid shapes protruding from the sordid ground. I stood stock still, horrified by the scene before me. This time Oliver offered no words of encouragement, instead following my example. A sudden scream pierced the thick air, encircling us in its shrill, alarmed voice. “Meow.” A slight, white cat crossed the stone path immediately in front of me, captivating my attention. It slid in between my feet, purring with pleasure. She seemed to be concealing some unavowed secret behind her wane coat, perhaps- no it couldn’t be so. Yet it was. The feline, which had so alluringly held my attention, was beckoning. Her willowy tale was wagging back and forth, towards the Enchantress’s mansion. “Oliver, are you seeing this?” I questioned, turning toward my equally bewitched companion, who at the moment was gazing at the cat, flitting in and out of my legs. “Yeah, what’s it doing, why is it moving its tale that way?” He replied, his attention still captured. I looked down, the cat lifted its delicate head upwards, her refined features prominent even in the darkness of the night. I was alarmed at the revelation before me. Bright green eyes?stared up at me, a deep intelligence clearly visible underneath the glossy sheen of light that illuminated her sardonic eyes.

Ch# 4 Our new companion seemed to spite everything around her; the impeding gloom that hung as stale breath in the air constantly surrounding, the wisps of steamy fog arising from the ground, curling against age old gravestones. She sauntered up and down the path, in between our legs, in a strange, leisurely manner; her nonchalant attitude soon became a small comfort in light of the situation. The enclosing stone wall encircling the graveyard we were currently walking through gave no reassurance; Oliver and I certain by now we would face a horrific fate at the hands of the lamia we had come to meet. Our escort seemed to be biding her time; I wondered what was going on in that fiendish mind of hers, my own on its edge, waiting expectantly for some demonic figure to emanate out of the eerie obscurity that was our circumstance.