Chapter Text
''Will this warm me too?''
Her voice was soft.
I had not expected her to speak again, to yet be capable of it. Not by the way it had felt, her hands gripping my shoulders in all her might, then loosened into nothing.
I moved her, us, close to the fire regardless of how futile doing so would be.
She sighed weakly.
''This is better than the water.'' she admitted.
''Is it?''
''Yes, I believe so...'' she trailed off.
She thought I was not quite as cold and undesirable as the Thames.
She was too pale now. I rubbed her skin to bring back the blood I'd already stolen. Her face aghast as a spectre's staring into my own.
''I am ...frightened, madam. Of you. Still...'' she breathed deeply, but this world would no longer allow her to hold her grip on air. Not long now, her hold will not last much longer.
''At least...I am glad... I came...I am not alone.''
I was painfully aware that I was holding her as a lover, my arm supporting her, my hand holding her waist, grazing her ribs, as I never held anyone but in this, and this ... all too frequently.
''Lili, Lili, I need you to be brave, I need you to live.'' I raised my hand, willed my ring upon her although it pained her.
What little breath she had turned to sobbed screams. If magic could pull her through, then it would, it must!
I could not have another life fall from me. I should have had it in me to resist. The superhuman mind, not as strong as a human one. My degenarate state strayed too far from what it once was.
I would bind her to her mortal life if I could. But my nature never was of such and cannot be made into this. ''Lili...Lili...'' Her shift tugged defiantly back under my hands. The heartbeat faltering, with the playful ease of a leaf upon the wind. Unaware of how vital its role was in keeping her. Keeping her.
''Please, Lili!'' I screamed. I considered commanding. I could not be so cruel. I had done so in the past with others. It had not helped. Only worsened their suffering.
How hopeful 'The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar' had seemed to me, upon first reading. That story would seem hopeful, only to me.
''Sandor! I told you to phone the ambulance.''
He was watching as she lay dying,
as I wore the blood from my lips down with my words.
I, more composed when he was near, had my hand trail over her ribs, the other caught firmly in her hair, I gazed transfixed at her fine, fleeting, humanity.
He watched,
as if the sight of us were a balm.
She was a bright girl, a sweet girl, pretty, strong, full of promise to battle through her own days of making.
I admire them in the little time I know them. This makes it hurt more, and yet I do it more with every person I meet.
I put her down. What was left of her gently touched on the floor. While if I were to allow my emotion to ruin, I would put her down in an anger that dictate I threw her.
I stalked to the phone myself.
I had enough of leaving bodies behind in the streets where they used to be people. I've had enough of London.