Trust me. This is edited. It'll show later on.
1
London-1806
It wasn’t just the pain Charlotte Tucker felt, it was the hallucinations. Sometimes, she’d envision she was home, sitting in front of the fire on a late Christmas Eve. Sometimes, she’d see herself falling off the bridge and into the Thames River. Sometimes she’d see nothing at all. That was what scared her the most.
She had only been fifteen when she had been taken from her London home. It had been two long years, but she stopped keeping track after three weeks. He opened the door to her room and crossed over to the ornate bed she was tied to. The rope cut into her wrists as she struggled, they were at the fraying point.
“Open up.” he said, keeping his voice cool and mild. Charlotte stopped moving and obediently opened her mouth, allowing the man to pour the vial of slimy, clear liquid down her throat. The man smiled cruelly. He had her trained perfectly. He had chosen
She began to scream as loud as she could. The visions were in her head, bugs crawling over every inch of her body. She broke the rope at her wrists, leaving them with bracelets of blood. She began to claw her arms with her untrimmed nails, drawing blood.
“No,” She howled, “no. Mother, NO!” the man sat down in the wooden chair, crossed his arms and smiled. He had waited for this moment. The moment when one of the last Innocent would die.
****
The screams could be heard through all of London. Well, not exactly, but Nathaniel Malone was on the roof of the house that held Charlotte Tucker. He pushed up his white shirtsleeves, revealing the Preliator sign on his left forearm. The black circle with an ‘X’ through it shined in the moonlight. That was it. He needed to save that girl.
Mihaela Vladimirescu sat next to him, wearing a long black dress ad black boots. Her dark red hair was pulled from her eyes, making her face seem sharp and flat in the moonlight.
“I think she may be in there.” Nate said, pulling a thin blade from his belt. Mihaela rolled her big brown eyes, “I think you may be right,” she said in her thick, Romanian accent.
“So, how do we get in?” Nate asked. The moon washed color into his black hair. His green eyes seemed to glimmer as his mind whirred, “we break in.” he answered his own question.
****
The man smiled as Charlotte continued to scream. The bugs kept crawling over her, there was no end to the torture. The she stopped, and an eerie silence fell. His smile fell. He took comfort in hearing the screams.
The blood dripped from her arms to the white sheets. She lay still and breathless on the bed as Nate broke the window with his feet. He climbed in, Mihaela after him. The man smoothed his hair from his face, eyeing the intruders.
“What do you want?” he asked with a very good, but still fake, American accent. Nate gritted his teeth and lifted his blade. Mihaela ran to Charlottes’ side, and began muttering words under her breath.
The man sized Nate up, noticing the glinting blade and the sharpness in his usually mischievous brown eyes. The man laughed, ringing over Charlotte’s screams.
“Take her.” He said, his thin smile remaining on his face. Nate shivered. The mans’ pale eyes held no emotion, and that scared him, though Nate would never admit it, “she’ll be dead within the hour without the antidote.” the man said and leaped from the window. Nate watched as he landed on the streets below.
“Lets get her out of here.” He ordered. Mihaela sighed and pulled her wand from her boot.
“I can’t move her. Go look for an antidote. You’re looking for something that might smell like lavender or sage or,” Mihaela paused, thinking, “you stay with Charlotte, I’ll go look.” Nate nodded, and kneeled next to Mihaela. He grasped Charlotte’s hand, and stared into her pale, now silent face. She was too important to loose.
