Nightmare on Fleet Street (Part 3)
Chapter 11
Toby quickly came to realize that he was standing in just the place Mr. Todd was throwing the body parts. Deciding to do his own body a favor, he moved around the muttering barber towards the other wall. Taking a calming breath from his gin-cloth, the boy took in the sight of a pile of bones. His stomach twisted, but he ignored it as he bent down to pick up a piece of cloth. It was ripped, and had a great deal of blood on it.
His mum dealt with this every day?
He dropped the cloth and turned his attention back to Mr. Todd. The barber had just finished throwing a large chunk of calf meat when he caught sight of the bones by Toby. The boy began to quiver at the intense look the barber had on his face.
Marching around the grinder and even forgetting to hold his bruised side, Sweeney went straight for the cloth scrap that Toby had dropped. Stepping hurriedly back from the man, the boy watched with interest as he bent to pick up the cloth. Painfully standing back up, Sweeney grimaced briefly before eagerly turning his attention back to the cloth.
Mrs. Lovett had attempted to sweeten his tea with honey that day, but only succeeded in leaving a foul taste in Sweeney’s mouth for the rest of it. He had bee in a slightly worse than normal mood because of it, and had been having a hard time keeping the glower off his face. A particular man had come in, prattling on about someone’s generosity and the good in the world.
If Sweeney recalled correctly, his razor nearly got stuck in the man’s throat from how deep he had forced it into his flesh.
Pushing aside the bloody technicality he tried to remember exactly who the man had said was being generous.
Toby wanted to flee as he witnessed the barber’s face contort into an expression of maddened rage and unmistakable blood lust. The syllable he growled out sent shivers crawling down the boy’s spine.
“Judge.”
--
“Do you.. do you know what he did? To get.. sent away?”
Forcing herself to listen to the girl, Mrs. Lovett debated on what to tell her. ‘Yes’ could lead down the long and tiresome road of exactly how she knew. After all, when one said ‘he was falsely accused’ a ‘how do you know’ would be sure to follow. Saying no could very well send the girl’s mind off in a million different directions, making her think badly on a man who was really quite fine.
“He was a good man.” She insisted, deciding to go with a third option.
Johanna frowned at the baker’s insistence, but didn’t question it. “How long did you know them?” She asked instead.
“They were looking for a place to stay, two weeks after they got married.” She refrained from mentioning she had spoken to them occasionally before. There was no point, people tended to run into one another at the market. Not that Mrs. Lovett would find herself following the very handsome Mr. Barker around, or anything.
“Were you good friends?”
“As much as we could be.. Wot with me Albert who ‘e was an ’im enamored ta Lucy..” Mrs. Lovett hurriedly stopped herself. Johanna was obviously inquiring about both her parents, not just her father. Looking at the girl nervously, she hoped her fatal error would go unnoticed. Expressing a desire for an affair with her father was perhaps not the best way to go about being friends. If their relationship was anything close to friendship.
Johanna, fortunately for Mrs. Lovett, was not too observant a character, and had been distracted by learning her mother’s name. “Lucy?” She whispered, almost completely forgetting what else had been said. “My father is.. Albert?’
The baker forced herself to laugh, relieved her proclamation was overlooked. “No. ‘E was my husband. Your father’s name was Benjamin.”
Old and forgotten memories suddenly flooded back to her the moment his name left her tongue. It had never even occurred to her to think on them after Sweeney had shown up. For a man so obsessed with his past, he rather didn’t like it when someone else brought it up.
“Benjamin and Lucy.” The girl played with the names, enjoying the sound.
“Barker.” Mrs. Lovett concluded for her. “Turpin ne’er…?”
Her expression went sour. “No.”
The baker sighed. “Sounds ‘bout right for someone like ‘im.”
Johanna took a quick breath before letting her questions spill out. “How did I end up with him? What happened to my mother after my father was sent away?”
Mrs. Lovett noted her shyness was about as fickle as her ability to pay attention. “I really shouldn’t be tellin’ ya these things luv.”
“Who will?” She pressed.
The child’s logic was impressive, but it still granted no response from the woman across from her.
--
Every nerve, perception and instinct inside of him was screaming at him to run. But shock or flat out denial kept Toby where he was. He was afraid of moving least he capture the murderous and wicked looking barber’s attention. Whoever this judge was, terrible things were sure to happen to him. The boy could only briefly wonder what could have caused this emotion from Mr. Todd when he finally managed to gasp.
A pair of oddly looking demonic eyes snapped to him.
“M-Mr. Todd s-sir..” He raised a shaky hand to point at the barber’s face.
Suddenly looking every inch a normal man (if Mr. Todd was ever really normal to begin with) he reached up to his own face with a slight look of curiosity. His fingers came in contact with a bit of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.
Cursing, he began to pull of his rather tattered shirt.
Toby was still frozen, completely unsure of how to react to this new situation. The boy bit his lip to stifle another gasp, holding the cloth closer to his face. A large grotesque looking bruise had formed all along Mr. Todd’s left side, and hardly noticeable in the dim light, was blood smeared across his shoulders and back from several seeping wounds.
Mr. Todd looked mildly irritated.
“Sir, ya should-” A lot growl informed Toby to stop talking, which he promptly complied too.
Sweeney pulled the filthy shirt back over his head, deciding he wanted something over nothing. “Gather what’s left of the gin.”
The boy hurriedly did as asked, moving to where he had set down the bottles. “Should I-”
“How much is left?”
Feeling too afraid to complain about being cut-off, Toby squinted at the bottles to try and see how much was in them. “Ones full.. ‘nother has a leak..” he hadn’t noticed that before, he looked nervously at the barber to see if he somehow disapproved. “An’ the others full.”
“Good.”
Toby stayed silent, watching Mr. Todd walk across the bake house.
“Coming?”
The boy jumped before scurrying over to the door. He had never seen so much blood in his life, not to mention minced corpses. He had never felt so confused, desperate and disgusted either. As a result his mind was becoming a rather difficult thing to hold onto; especially when his company was a man who appeared to be experiencing none of those emotions, despite the given situation.
The high pitched squeal from the protesting hinges of the bake house door nearly made him drop the gin.
--
“Mrs. Lovett, please.”
“I’ve told ya enough.”
“I have a right to know!”
“Being forceful isn’t going to help ya any love.”
“Please.”
Nor will beggin’, the baker thought with irritation. Couldn’t the girl just go back to sewing and daydreaming? Now she was beginning to understand why Mr. T liked silence. She wasn’t this annoying, surely?
“…please?” Johanna’s pretty blue eyes were playing for all they had, trying to sway Mrs. Lovett.
“No.”
--
“Ya want to wot?!” Toby squeaked, eyes round with surprise and glued to Mr. Todd.
The barber was hardly paying attention to the boy, though. After being reminded of the judge, and coming to the conclusion he had Mrs. Lovett (though more out of biased feeling than fact), a thought had crawled into Sweeney’s mind and refused to leave.
People were ambling around the streets devouring one another. Who cared what happened?
Who cared if a judge was brutally murdered in his own home?
Sweeney could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of a no strings attached kill. At least, a relatively no-strings-attached kill. No doubt someone would eventually care to look into it.
But until then… and especially before! Besides, after he killed the judge he intended to be long gone.
“Sir!” Toby squeaked again, having received no response before. “’Ow can ya think ta-”
“They don’t like fire.” He growled through gritted teeth, annoyed at being spoke to when he wanted to think. “It’s a useful distraction.”
“But we could-”
Sweeney spun and grabbed the front of Toby’s shirt. “I’m burning the shop down whether or not you’re outside with me.”
The boy nodded his head.
--
“I knew she was familiar, but this is.. unacceptable.” Turpin growled.
The man who he was talking to only nodded his head.
“Could you..” he started to pace. “make it soluble.. Lace a drink with it? I need to get her away from Johanna.”
“I could.. try.”
“You’d damned well better, Mayhew! Who knows what filth she’s spewing at her?”
“What if you were to simply.. let me take her? Or why don’t you just take her away from Johanna?”
“She’s finicky enough as it is. If I start taking away what I let her have I’ll have more trouble, and why would I want that when it can be avoided?”
Mayhew nodded his head, running a hand through his hair and looking slightly sick.
“Well?” Turpin snapped.
The apothecary leapt up from his chair.
--
Toby knew better than to protest against Mr. Todd’s actions twice, but as the pile of things grew at the center of the room, he felt like screaming.
All creatures had vacated the shop and home, having ambled out onto the people infested streets. Quite a few were still actually on the stairs, pushing themselves against the barber shop door.
Stupid blighters, Toby thought angrily. He had to start scrubbing at tears when Mr. Todd started throwing books onto the pile of furniture.
Looking satisfied, the barber began to poor the gin over the pile of textiles, literature and scraped wood.
Toby thought about tackling Mr. Todd, demanding another way out. Another escape route. The man seemed set on burning everything down though, and as he lit a match Toby felt all rebellious thoughts vanish.
Fire from the match reflected in the barber’s eyes, eerily showing the same psychotic look he had had in the bake house.
No one could have made him touch Mr. Todd at that moment.
--
“Well?”
Turpin was most certainly a patient man. Mayhew gritted his teeth to keep himself from snapping. “I’m working.” Came out in a surprisingly calm tone. He was anything but at the moment.
“And?”
Did he have to loom?
“I’m working.” He repeated, some of his irritation leaking out.
The judge narrowed his eyes at Mayhew’s back before stomping out of the room.
Ungrateful brat, James thought, rolling his shoulders to ease their tension. They suddenly drooped and he set down the instruments he had been holding.
Why did she have to get sent for?
She was supposed to be safe in her shop. Well, Eleanor would actually be safe anywhere, but that was beside the point.
James pressed his fingers to his temple, ignoring the graying hair that fell in front of his eyes. They could have been far away…
--
The flame seemed to slow as it neared its intended fuel, and Toby could see the yellow tongue lean towards the gin coated curtain as if impatient to taste it. Toby thought time had stopped before he noticed it was just Mr. Todd. A little smile appeared on the man’s face as he stared at the tiny fire in his hand.
“Only partly singed when the chapel burned down.”
The boy registered the sudden appearance of greedy flames before he understood what Mr. Todd had said.
--
Chapter 12
Mayhew needed a plan, some type of stall or a tiny ruse to throw of Judge Turpin. Within the makeshift lab at the judge’s home, no plan along those lines seemed forthcoming.
He had come to Turpin with an arrogant confidence in his work. Would he notice if it suddenly vanished and problems arose? It was an unknown he didn’t want to risk her life on. He couldn’t risk anything that put her in possible danger, which immediately crushed the plan of going back to his shop (under the impression he ‘needed supplies’ so he could buy some more time). Though even traveling around London with an escort of infected had risks. The compound had spread quickly. Incredibly quickly.
His mind wandered briefly to ponder that unknown before snapping its focus back to his problem.
James needed to find a way to get Eleanor out of the judge’s clutches. It would probably be better if she didn’t know he was part of it, though he had intended to tell her. In a safe, preferably far away, obedient-man-eating-slave free environment.
Why were they eating people?
He shook his head. Focus. You can’t leave, Turpin might get annoyed and send the Beadle to stand over your shoulder if you take too long..
“Ger her out of that room!” He muttered to himself. Maybe he could send an invitation and discuss their predicament over tea… She probably wouldn’t believe it was him, and the judge seemed to want her dead the moment she was away from Johanna. After all, once the compound was in your system, you didn’t have much time left until the effects were irreversible.
If they even were, he had never had the chance to use the antidote..
“Focus!” He snapped to himself.
Was she going to look the same, after all those years? James couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about that.
--
“Mrs. Lovett, I can’t believe- I can’t-”
“Can’t what?”
“Please?”
Maybe if she threw-up again the girl would take it upon herself to shut-up. Mrs. Lovett gave the blonde the stink-eye before relaxing her features. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Can ya please stop pesterin’ me love?”
Johanna frowned thoughtfully. No one had ever acted around her the same way Mrs. Lovett was. She rather liked the change in attitude, though in regards to the remarks being made about her character… well she didn’t like it that much. Which she supposed was actually part of the reason she liked the woman. She didn’t dislike her in the way she did Turpin or Bamford. They were just disgusting, and seemed to be made for being disliked. Mrs. Lovett, by no means, seemed the type made for rude thoughts. Johanna supposed it was the woman’s insanity. She could irritate you, but you could never dislike her for it.
As most of her time had been spent staring at people out of a rather large window, she had developed a strange knowledge of how people reacted around one another. Well, how they responded physically. She could never actually hear that well from her room…
She had seen women scold their children for doing something wrong, but cuff men about the heads for much the same offenses.
Mrs. Lovett was simply a different form of irritation.
“Love, are you alright?”
The girl jumped at the voice. “Oh, I must have..”
“Gone off?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Lovett quickly decided that endless chatter was better than that oddly glazed look her eyes had possessed when she had been thinking. At least, it had been odd when her eyes were still directed at her, but not looking.
It was down right creepy. She fidgeted in her chair when the blonde started to un-focus again. Perhaps she and her father had more in common than the baker originally thought.
Mrs. Lovett gave a light cough to bring back the child’s attention. “Your father..”
--
Sweeney kept himself pressed to the ground, grinning like the mad-man most people would think he was. Well, every person who knew they were going to die by him probably thought he was mad. That counted, right?
“Sir?” Toby coughed; the room was filling with smoke.
They had raided the cabinet and taken the remaining bottles of gin (one was split between them, though it disappeared after a few swigs) and left flammable trails to various rooms from the starting fire. Sweeney insisted on waiting for the flames to spread and to wait until the creatures noticed the smoke.
He supposed Toby was afraid he was going to wait until the building collapsed around them. Truth be told Sweeney rather liked the sound and smells the collapsing home and shop were making.
“Sir!” The boy coughed again.
“Head for the door.” He snapped, Toby was more than happy to comply.
The creatures had sluggishly made their way off the patio and cleared the area in front of the shop as well, though they didn’t travel too far past that. A number were still on the stairs that lead to the barber shop, though that may have been because they didn’t want to walk past the orange tinted windows.
Once out of the burning building Toby had hurried over to collect another chair for bashing, while Sweeney rested his aching body against the warm, smoky glass, or the pie shop door.
“And what would you say about me now, my pet?” He mumbled to himself.
--
“Mayhew!”
The apothecary seemed to jump out of his skin.
“Do you have something ready to serve to her?” Turpin growled.
“Well-”
“Well? You’d better hurry. I heard giggling!”
“Erh..” A confused expression spread across his face. “Giggling?”
“Yes!”
“They could have been talking about anything.” He stated, not sure why laughter was such a problem. It rather relieved him, informing him she was just sitting their in stuffy silence.
“Exactly!” The man fumed.
--
“An’ then, your father comes runnin’ down the stairs, all frightened like! ‘Mrs. Lovett!’ ‘E screams, barging into me shop. ‘Mrs. Lovett!’ An’ I was just standin’ there, rollin’ some pasty when ‘e came in. I felt genuinely scared! ‘Wot is it?’ I asked ‘im. ‘Lucy’s seen a rat, an’ she wont come off the wardrobe!’”
Johanna giggled at Mrs. Lovett’s story, happy to be hearing something, even though it wasn’t what she wanted. An odd nostalgic look appeared in the baker’s eye as she told the story, and when she spoke it was almost as if she was proud to be telling it. Johanna supposed one had to hold onto something, even if it was silly stories.
“’Tha’s it?’ I asked ‘im, feelin’ a fool fer gettin’ worked up. Oh but it wasn’ the worst of it!” A genuine grin appeared on Mrs. Lovett’s face. “’E gets all pale like and starts whisperin’. ‘I don’ think she can get down!’ Ha! After she got up, she can’t get down? ‘Ow silly is that? An’ she couldn’ jump neither, ‘fraid of hurtin’ ‘erself or Benjamin! So I went up there to ‘elp ‘im coax her down, not really believin’ it ta begin with. But sure enough, tha’s where she was. Never even quite sure on ‘ow she got up!”
“How did you help her down?” Johanna asked, taking the opportunity as Mrs. Lovett had stopped to catch her breath.
“Well, first I went about lookin’ fer the rat. I couldn’t find even a trace of it, but she insisted it was there. O’ course, Benjamin’s runnin’ about the room all frantic like, jus’ askin’ ‘er to jump. I thought ‘e might stir the thing up, if there was one.”
“And?”
“It was a ‘airbrush.”
“No!”
Mrs. Lovett nodded her head, letting out a laugh. “It was! They were both so embarrassed! Couldn’ look me strait in the eye fer days.”
“But how did you get her down?” Johanna asked, trying not to laugh at her parents.
“Fetched a stool, Benjamin ‘eld her ‘and all the way down.” Her laughter faded, but the smile still remained on her face.
--
“The next time you ask if I am alright, you wont be,” Sweeney snarled, keeping his anger narrowed eyes off his companion.
Toby’s knuckled turned white from how strongly he held his new chair. He wanted to throw it at the barber, even if it would do the both of them more harm then good. The man was pushing himself, had pushed himself, beyond the brink of what was normal. Even though it was dusk there was considerably more light outside then there had been in, and his filthy bedraggled appearance was made all too clear. He was holding his bruised side and moving nearly as slow as the creatures they were attempting to get away from.
The boy had vocalized his concerns, but by his second attempt the low grunt responses turned into a splatter of blood as one of the barber’s razors cut across a monster. He learned to quickly get over it, or be left behind in the blood soaked streets.
Even with what remained of the pie shop still just around the corner London was a sorry sight. Toby hoped they might find someone else who managed to survive, or perhaps a force helping to control things. The only signs of life he detected were hastily boarded doors, which appeared to have been torn open.
“Sir..” he felt the cold eyes on him and hurried to continue. “Ain’t it odd they got into e’ery buildin’ ‘cept your shop?”
Mr. Todd appeared satisfied with the question, but still didn’t answer.
The boy bit his lip, casting anxious glances everywhere. “’Ow much farther?”
--
Chapter 13
All forms of communication pathetically dwindled to nothing as Toby and Sweeney continued their trek. The boy began to wonder if Mr. Todd even knew where they were going, after all, his head could be just as injured as the rest of his body. But as they reached another street corner, the man made a decisive turn, then stopped.
Toby assumed they either finally made it to their destination, or they were lost.
--
“You’re done aren’t you? You’re just dawdling to make me out as a fool! Where is it?”
Mayhew began to seriously wonder if the judge had snapped under the stress of the long day.
“She’s in there with my Johanna..”
He sighed, the man wasn’t crazy. At least, not in the way Mayhew hoped. He was simply incredibly possessive of his ward.
“I have something.” He finally cut it, getting a little fed-up with the man’s ranting.
“Give it here!”
“May I suggest something?”
“What?”
“Have them come down to the parlor.” This was it.. his stupid, ingenious plan.
“Why?” Turpin huffed, acting like a three year old.
“So you can lace her drink without accidentally poisoning Johanna.”
“Bamford!” He shouted, nearly making Mayhew jump.
“Yes milord?” The man appeared as if out of thin air.
“Fetch Johanna and her.. guest. We’ll be having a meeting in the parlor.”
The beadle nodded his head and disappeared soundlessly. James always found it rather creepy a man of his size could slip around unnoticed.
Turpin held out his hand, and when all Mayhew did was stare at it, he cocked an eyebrow and hissed “well?”
It felt as if the room suddenly dropped in temperature as he handed over the phial.
--
“Just down this street..” The barber’s pace quickened, as if to make up for the time spent standing still.
Toby knew better than to assume Mr. Todd was talking to him, so instead he cast the barber what was surely the millionth uneasy glance that day. The delighted and crazed look in the man’s eye seemed to grow sharper at every step they took.
The pair suddenly halted.
“I suppose tha’s the place.” Toby grumbled, staring uneasily at the crowd of drooling Londoners that were positioned around the gate.
--
Mrs. Lovett did not particularly want to leave the security of Johanna’s room; if a place in the home was even secure, but she felt she had little choice when the beadle came to inform them they were invited downstairs.
Invited in her own home, really! Johanna didn’t seem to find it that odd though. In fact, she forced a smile for the beadle and said they would be down in just a moment. He tipped his heat but waited at the doorway anyway. Both woman took this as a sign they were to hurry.
Immediately feeling suspicious, Mrs. Lovett kept a tight hold on her rolling pin.
--
Turpin brushed at a patch of powder on his vest, starting to frown when it didn’t disappear. He growled and began to vigorously rub at the spot until the sound of a clearing throat brought him back to reality.
“What is it?” He snapped.
“They’re on the stairs.” Mayhew walked past him and into the study. He didn’t want her to see him just yet, but he needed to be closer than his makeshift lab. Luckily Turpin didn’t question his actions.
--
“I think we can jus’ walk past ‘em sir.”
The scowl remained fixed on Sweeney’s face.
“They ain’t doin’ nothin’.” Toby continued. “More than they normally don’t do.”
As the barber’s silence continued the boy grew nervous.
Without a word he started to walk (or really limp) towards the door of the house. Toby didn’t see a flicker of fear or hesitation in the man’s eyes as he neared the horde, so he hurried after him. They didn’t move as they walked past them, in fact, they seemed completely unaware that they were there.
Sweeney’s smirk had turned into a grin by the time they reached the door. It was unlocked.
--
“So nice of ya ta ‘ave us down.” Mrs. Lovett drawled, feeling immediately angered just by being in the judge’s presence. She also felt slightly frightened, but tired her best to make sure that it didn’t show through.
A forced smile twitched at the corner of the man’s mouth.
Johanna looked between the two before hurriedly taking Mrs. Lovett’s arm and guiding her to a chair. She took the one next to it, feeling oddly nervous as she did so. Perhaps it was the glare that Turpin had fixed on Mrs. Lovett, or the one she was sending back at him. But it could have been something else.
“Is there a reason you wanted us sir?” She asked politely, not knowing quite knowing which of the two adults seemed more intent on killing the other with their eyes.
“Tea.” He choked out, dragging his eyes to the table.
“Ya bloody well called us down for tea? We coulda done fine in her room!”
“Silence!” Turpin snarled, quickly losing all pretense of being polite.
--
Eleanor, Mayhew thought with a smile; head pressed against the study door. Her temper could always runaway with her. He quickly wiped the smile off his face as the shouting continued. James had planned on calmly walking into the parlor (eventually) and hopefully manage to prevent her from consuming any laced tea which the judge offered her. He had, unfortunately, been holding a phial of the stuff when the judge stormed in.
James winced at the loud shouts coming through the door, suddenly doubting Eleanor would ever even drink any tea.
--
“-you bitch!”
“Oh! ‘Ow dare ya!”
Having vacated her chair almost right after she sat in it, Mrs. Lovett was now standing next to the coffee table, the judge just across from her.
“How dare I what?” He snarled.
As if to prove some point Mrs. Lovett brought up her rolling pin and swung at Turpin. He caught her arm and pulled her forward, forcing her face to be inches from his.
“Don’t try that in my house again.”
Furious, Mrs. Lovett pulled herself out of his grip and swung again.
This time she caught him in the side of the head, sending him to the floor in a crumbled heap.
“Ha!” She practically screeched, pointing her rolling pin at him. “Try what?!”
The study door burst open, and her attention immediately transferred to it. “Eleanor!” James gasped, gawping at the scene. The beadle was staring at the crazed looking baker in shock, Johanna remained in her chair attempting not to look at anything, and the judge, well; the judge was still on the ground.
“James?” Her voice had turned calm, and she simply stared at him.
--
Considering the first door he attempted to open was full of frightened maids, Sweeney decided he needed a better means of locating Mrs. Lovett, or the judge.
What sounded like shouting suddenly echoed down the hall, causing Toby to go rigid.
Sweeney figured who ever was on the other side of the door was who he was looking for.
Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8
Toby quickly came to realize that he was standing in just the place Mr. Todd was throwing the body parts. Deciding to do his own body a favor, he moved around the muttering barber towards the other wall. Taking a calming breath from his gin-cloth, the boy took in the sight of a pile of bones. His stomach twisted, but he ignored it as he bent down to pick up a piece of cloth. It was ripped, and had a great deal of blood on it.
His mum dealt with this every day?
He dropped the cloth and turned his attention back to Mr. Todd. The barber had just finished throwing a large chunk of calf meat when he caught sight of the bones by Toby. The boy began to quiver at the intense look the barber had on his face.
Marching around the grinder and even forgetting to hold his bruised side, Sweeney went straight for the cloth scrap that Toby had dropped. Stepping hurriedly back from the man, the boy watched with interest as he bent to pick up the cloth. Painfully standing back up, Sweeney grimaced briefly before eagerly turning his attention back to the cloth.
Mrs. Lovett had attempted to sweeten his tea with honey that day, but only succeeded in leaving a foul taste in Sweeney’s mouth for the rest of it. He had bee in a slightly worse than normal mood because of it, and had been having a hard time keeping the glower off his face. A particular man had come in, prattling on about someone’s generosity and the good in the world.
If Sweeney recalled correctly, his razor nearly got stuck in the man’s throat from how deep he had forced it into his flesh.
Pushing aside the bloody technicality he tried to remember exactly who the man had said was being generous.
Toby wanted to flee as he witnessed the barber’s face contort into an expression of maddened rage and unmistakable blood lust. The syllable he growled out sent shivers crawling down the boy’s spine.
“Judge.”
--
“Do you.. do you know what he did? To get.. sent away?”
Forcing herself to listen to the girl, Mrs. Lovett debated on what to tell her. ‘Yes’ could lead down the long and tiresome road of exactly how she knew. After all, when one said ‘he was falsely accused’ a ‘how do you know’ would be sure to follow. Saying no could very well send the girl’s mind off in a million different directions, making her think badly on a man who was really quite fine.
“He was a good man.” She insisted, deciding to go with a third option.
Johanna frowned at the baker’s insistence, but didn’t question it. “How long did you know them?” She asked instead.
“They were looking for a place to stay, two weeks after they got married.” She refrained from mentioning she had spoken to them occasionally before. There was no point, people tended to run into one another at the market. Not that Mrs. Lovett would find herself following the very handsome Mr. Barker around, or anything.
“Were you good friends?”
“As much as we could be.. Wot with me Albert who ‘e was an ’im enamored ta Lucy..” Mrs. Lovett hurriedly stopped herself. Johanna was obviously inquiring about both her parents, not just her father. Looking at the girl nervously, she hoped her fatal error would go unnoticed. Expressing a desire for an affair with her father was perhaps not the best way to go about being friends. If their relationship was anything close to friendship.
Johanna, fortunately for Mrs. Lovett, was not too observant a character, and had been distracted by learning her mother’s name. “Lucy?” She whispered, almost completely forgetting what else had been said. “My father is.. Albert?’
The baker forced herself to laugh, relieved her proclamation was overlooked. “No. ‘E was my husband. Your father’s name was Benjamin.”
Old and forgotten memories suddenly flooded back to her the moment his name left her tongue. It had never even occurred to her to think on them after Sweeney had shown up. For a man so obsessed with his past, he rather didn’t like it when someone else brought it up.
“Benjamin and Lucy.” The girl played with the names, enjoying the sound.
“Barker.” Mrs. Lovett concluded for her. “Turpin ne’er…?”
Her expression went sour. “No.”
The baker sighed. “Sounds ‘bout right for someone like ‘im.”
Johanna took a quick breath before letting her questions spill out. “How did I end up with him? What happened to my mother after my father was sent away?”
Mrs. Lovett noted her shyness was about as fickle as her ability to pay attention. “I really shouldn’t be tellin’ ya these things luv.”
“Who will?” She pressed.
The child’s logic was impressive, but it still granted no response from the woman across from her.
--
Every nerve, perception and instinct inside of him was screaming at him to run. But shock or flat out denial kept Toby where he was. He was afraid of moving least he capture the murderous and wicked looking barber’s attention. Whoever this judge was, terrible things were sure to happen to him. The boy could only briefly wonder what could have caused this emotion from Mr. Todd when he finally managed to gasp.
A pair of oddly looking demonic eyes snapped to him.
“M-Mr. Todd s-sir..” He raised a shaky hand to point at the barber’s face.
Suddenly looking every inch a normal man (if Mr. Todd was ever really normal to begin with) he reached up to his own face with a slight look of curiosity. His fingers came in contact with a bit of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.
Cursing, he began to pull of his rather tattered shirt.
Toby was still frozen, completely unsure of how to react to this new situation. The boy bit his lip to stifle another gasp, holding the cloth closer to his face. A large grotesque looking bruise had formed all along Mr. Todd’s left side, and hardly noticeable in the dim light, was blood smeared across his shoulders and back from several seeping wounds.
Mr. Todd looked mildly irritated.
“Sir, ya should-” A lot growl informed Toby to stop talking, which he promptly complied too.
Sweeney pulled the filthy shirt back over his head, deciding he wanted something over nothing. “Gather what’s left of the gin.”
The boy hurriedly did as asked, moving to where he had set down the bottles. “Should I-”
“How much is left?”
Feeling too afraid to complain about being cut-off, Toby squinted at the bottles to try and see how much was in them. “Ones full.. ‘nother has a leak..” he hadn’t noticed that before, he looked nervously at the barber to see if he somehow disapproved. “An’ the others full.”
“Good.”
Toby stayed silent, watching Mr. Todd walk across the bake house.
“Coming?”
The boy jumped before scurrying over to the door. He had never seen so much blood in his life, not to mention minced corpses. He had never felt so confused, desperate and disgusted either. As a result his mind was becoming a rather difficult thing to hold onto; especially when his company was a man who appeared to be experiencing none of those emotions, despite the given situation.
The high pitched squeal from the protesting hinges of the bake house door nearly made him drop the gin.
--
“Mrs. Lovett, please.”
“I’ve told ya enough.”
“I have a right to know!”
“Being forceful isn’t going to help ya any love.”
“Please.”
Nor will beggin’, the baker thought with irritation. Couldn’t the girl just go back to sewing and daydreaming? Now she was beginning to understand why Mr. T liked silence. She wasn’t this annoying, surely?
“…please?” Johanna’s pretty blue eyes were playing for all they had, trying to sway Mrs. Lovett.
“No.”
--
“Ya want to wot?!” Toby squeaked, eyes round with surprise and glued to Mr. Todd.
The barber was hardly paying attention to the boy, though. After being reminded of the judge, and coming to the conclusion he had Mrs. Lovett (though more out of biased feeling than fact), a thought had crawled into Sweeney’s mind and refused to leave.
People were ambling around the streets devouring one another. Who cared what happened?
Who cared if a judge was brutally murdered in his own home?
Sweeney could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of a no strings attached kill. At least, a relatively no-strings-attached kill. No doubt someone would eventually care to look into it.
But until then… and especially before! Besides, after he killed the judge he intended to be long gone.
“Sir!” Toby squeaked again, having received no response before. “’Ow can ya think ta-”
“They don’t like fire.” He growled through gritted teeth, annoyed at being spoke to when he wanted to think. “It’s a useful distraction.”
“But we could-”
Sweeney spun and grabbed the front of Toby’s shirt. “I’m burning the shop down whether or not you’re outside with me.”
The boy nodded his head.
--
“I knew she was familiar, but this is.. unacceptable.” Turpin growled.
The man who he was talking to only nodded his head.
“Could you..” he started to pace. “make it soluble.. Lace a drink with it? I need to get her away from Johanna.”
“I could.. try.”
“You’d damned well better, Mayhew! Who knows what filth she’s spewing at her?”
“What if you were to simply.. let me take her? Or why don’t you just take her away from Johanna?”
“She’s finicky enough as it is. If I start taking away what I let her have I’ll have more trouble, and why would I want that when it can be avoided?”
Mayhew nodded his head, running a hand through his hair and looking slightly sick.
“Well?” Turpin snapped.
The apothecary leapt up from his chair.
--
Toby knew better than to protest against Mr. Todd’s actions twice, but as the pile of things grew at the center of the room, he felt like screaming.
All creatures had vacated the shop and home, having ambled out onto the people infested streets. Quite a few were still actually on the stairs, pushing themselves against the barber shop door.
Stupid blighters, Toby thought angrily. He had to start scrubbing at tears when Mr. Todd started throwing books onto the pile of furniture.
Looking satisfied, the barber began to poor the gin over the pile of textiles, literature and scraped wood.
Toby thought about tackling Mr. Todd, demanding another way out. Another escape route. The man seemed set on burning everything down though, and as he lit a match Toby felt all rebellious thoughts vanish.
Fire from the match reflected in the barber’s eyes, eerily showing the same psychotic look he had had in the bake house.
No one could have made him touch Mr. Todd at that moment.
--
“Well?”
Turpin was most certainly a patient man. Mayhew gritted his teeth to keep himself from snapping. “I’m working.” Came out in a surprisingly calm tone. He was anything but at the moment.
“And?”
Did he have to loom?
“I’m working.” He repeated, some of his irritation leaking out.
The judge narrowed his eyes at Mayhew’s back before stomping out of the room.
Ungrateful brat, James thought, rolling his shoulders to ease their tension. They suddenly drooped and he set down the instruments he had been holding.
Why did she have to get sent for?
She was supposed to be safe in her shop. Well, Eleanor would actually be safe anywhere, but that was beside the point.
James pressed his fingers to his temple, ignoring the graying hair that fell in front of his eyes. They could have been far away…
--
The flame seemed to slow as it neared its intended fuel, and Toby could see the yellow tongue lean towards the gin coated curtain as if impatient to taste it. Toby thought time had stopped before he noticed it was just Mr. Todd. A little smile appeared on the man’s face as he stared at the tiny fire in his hand.
“Only partly singed when the chapel burned down.”
The boy registered the sudden appearance of greedy flames before he understood what Mr. Todd had said.
--
Chapter 12
Mayhew needed a plan, some type of stall or a tiny ruse to throw of Judge Turpin. Within the makeshift lab at the judge’s home, no plan along those lines seemed forthcoming.
He had come to Turpin with an arrogant confidence in his work. Would he notice if it suddenly vanished and problems arose? It was an unknown he didn’t want to risk her life on. He couldn’t risk anything that put her in possible danger, which immediately crushed the plan of going back to his shop (under the impression he ‘needed supplies’ so he could buy some more time). Though even traveling around London with an escort of infected had risks. The compound had spread quickly. Incredibly quickly.
His mind wandered briefly to ponder that unknown before snapping its focus back to his problem.
James needed to find a way to get Eleanor out of the judge’s clutches. It would probably be better if she didn’t know he was part of it, though he had intended to tell her. In a safe, preferably far away, obedient-man-eating-slave free environment.
Why were they eating people?
He shook his head. Focus. You can’t leave, Turpin might get annoyed and send the Beadle to stand over your shoulder if you take too long..
“Ger her out of that room!” He muttered to himself. Maybe he could send an invitation and discuss their predicament over tea… She probably wouldn’t believe it was him, and the judge seemed to want her dead the moment she was away from Johanna. After all, once the compound was in your system, you didn’t have much time left until the effects were irreversible.
If they even were, he had never had the chance to use the antidote..
“Focus!” He snapped to himself.
Was she going to look the same, after all those years? James couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about that.
--
“Mrs. Lovett, I can’t believe- I can’t-”
“Can’t what?”
“Please?”
Maybe if she threw-up again the girl would take it upon herself to shut-up. Mrs. Lovett gave the blonde the stink-eye before relaxing her features. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Can ya please stop pesterin’ me love?”
Johanna frowned thoughtfully. No one had ever acted around her the same way Mrs. Lovett was. She rather liked the change in attitude, though in regards to the remarks being made about her character… well she didn’t like it that much. Which she supposed was actually part of the reason she liked the woman. She didn’t dislike her in the way she did Turpin or Bamford. They were just disgusting, and seemed to be made for being disliked. Mrs. Lovett, by no means, seemed the type made for rude thoughts. Johanna supposed it was the woman’s insanity. She could irritate you, but you could never dislike her for it.
As most of her time had been spent staring at people out of a rather large window, she had developed a strange knowledge of how people reacted around one another. Well, how they responded physically. She could never actually hear that well from her room…
She had seen women scold their children for doing something wrong, but cuff men about the heads for much the same offenses.
Mrs. Lovett was simply a different form of irritation.
“Love, are you alright?”
The girl jumped at the voice. “Oh, I must have..”
“Gone off?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Lovett quickly decided that endless chatter was better than that oddly glazed look her eyes had possessed when she had been thinking. At least, it had been odd when her eyes were still directed at her, but not looking.
It was down right creepy. She fidgeted in her chair when the blonde started to un-focus again. Perhaps she and her father had more in common than the baker originally thought.
Mrs. Lovett gave a light cough to bring back the child’s attention. “Your father..”
--
Sweeney kept himself pressed to the ground, grinning like the mad-man most people would think he was. Well, every person who knew they were going to die by him probably thought he was mad. That counted, right?
“Sir?” Toby coughed; the room was filling with smoke.
They had raided the cabinet and taken the remaining bottles of gin (one was split between them, though it disappeared after a few swigs) and left flammable trails to various rooms from the starting fire. Sweeney insisted on waiting for the flames to spread and to wait until the creatures noticed the smoke.
He supposed Toby was afraid he was going to wait until the building collapsed around them. Truth be told Sweeney rather liked the sound and smells the collapsing home and shop were making.
“Sir!” The boy coughed again.
“Head for the door.” He snapped, Toby was more than happy to comply.
The creatures had sluggishly made their way off the patio and cleared the area in front of the shop as well, though they didn’t travel too far past that. A number were still on the stairs that lead to the barber shop, though that may have been because they didn’t want to walk past the orange tinted windows.
Once out of the burning building Toby had hurried over to collect another chair for bashing, while Sweeney rested his aching body against the warm, smoky glass, or the pie shop door.
“And what would you say about me now, my pet?” He mumbled to himself.
--
“Mayhew!”
The apothecary seemed to jump out of his skin.
“Do you have something ready to serve to her?” Turpin growled.
“Well-”
“Well? You’d better hurry. I heard giggling!”
“Erh..” A confused expression spread across his face. “Giggling?”
“Yes!”
“They could have been talking about anything.” He stated, not sure why laughter was such a problem. It rather relieved him, informing him she was just sitting their in stuffy silence.
“Exactly!” The man fumed.
--
“An’ then, your father comes runnin’ down the stairs, all frightened like! ‘Mrs. Lovett!’ ‘E screams, barging into me shop. ‘Mrs. Lovett!’ An’ I was just standin’ there, rollin’ some pasty when ‘e came in. I felt genuinely scared! ‘Wot is it?’ I asked ‘im. ‘Lucy’s seen a rat, an’ she wont come off the wardrobe!’”
Johanna giggled at Mrs. Lovett’s story, happy to be hearing something, even though it wasn’t what she wanted. An odd nostalgic look appeared in the baker’s eye as she told the story, and when she spoke it was almost as if she was proud to be telling it. Johanna supposed one had to hold onto something, even if it was silly stories.
“’Tha’s it?’ I asked ‘im, feelin’ a fool fer gettin’ worked up. Oh but it wasn’ the worst of it!” A genuine grin appeared on Mrs. Lovett’s face. “’E gets all pale like and starts whisperin’. ‘I don’ think she can get down!’ Ha! After she got up, she can’t get down? ‘Ow silly is that? An’ she couldn’ jump neither, ‘fraid of hurtin’ ‘erself or Benjamin! So I went up there to ‘elp ‘im coax her down, not really believin’ it ta begin with. But sure enough, tha’s where she was. Never even quite sure on ‘ow she got up!”
“How did you help her down?” Johanna asked, taking the opportunity as Mrs. Lovett had stopped to catch her breath.
“Well, first I went about lookin’ fer the rat. I couldn’t find even a trace of it, but she insisted it was there. O’ course, Benjamin’s runnin’ about the room all frantic like, jus’ askin’ ‘er to jump. I thought ‘e might stir the thing up, if there was one.”
“And?”
“It was a ‘airbrush.”
“No!”
Mrs. Lovett nodded her head, letting out a laugh. “It was! They were both so embarrassed! Couldn’ look me strait in the eye fer days.”
“But how did you get her down?” Johanna asked, trying not to laugh at her parents.
“Fetched a stool, Benjamin ‘eld her ‘and all the way down.” Her laughter faded, but the smile still remained on her face.
--
“The next time you ask if I am alright, you wont be,” Sweeney snarled, keeping his anger narrowed eyes off his companion.
Toby’s knuckled turned white from how strongly he held his new chair. He wanted to throw it at the barber, even if it would do the both of them more harm then good. The man was pushing himself, had pushed himself, beyond the brink of what was normal. Even though it was dusk there was considerably more light outside then there had been in, and his filthy bedraggled appearance was made all too clear. He was holding his bruised side and moving nearly as slow as the creatures they were attempting to get away from.
The boy had vocalized his concerns, but by his second attempt the low grunt responses turned into a splatter of blood as one of the barber’s razors cut across a monster. He learned to quickly get over it, or be left behind in the blood soaked streets.
Even with what remained of the pie shop still just around the corner London was a sorry sight. Toby hoped they might find someone else who managed to survive, or perhaps a force helping to control things. The only signs of life he detected were hastily boarded doors, which appeared to have been torn open.
“Sir..” he felt the cold eyes on him and hurried to continue. “Ain’t it odd they got into e’ery buildin’ ‘cept your shop?”
Mr. Todd appeared satisfied with the question, but still didn’t answer.
The boy bit his lip, casting anxious glances everywhere. “’Ow much farther?”
--
Chapter 13
All forms of communication pathetically dwindled to nothing as Toby and Sweeney continued their trek. The boy began to wonder if Mr. Todd even knew where they were going, after all, his head could be just as injured as the rest of his body. But as they reached another street corner, the man made a decisive turn, then stopped.
Toby assumed they either finally made it to their destination, or they were lost.
--
“You’re done aren’t you? You’re just dawdling to make me out as a fool! Where is it?”
Mayhew began to seriously wonder if the judge had snapped under the stress of the long day.
“She’s in there with my Johanna..”
He sighed, the man wasn’t crazy. At least, not in the way Mayhew hoped. He was simply incredibly possessive of his ward.
“I have something.” He finally cut it, getting a little fed-up with the man’s ranting.
“Give it here!”
“May I suggest something?”
“What?”
“Have them come down to the parlor.” This was it.. his stupid, ingenious plan.
“Why?” Turpin huffed, acting like a three year old.
“So you can lace her drink without accidentally poisoning Johanna.”
“Bamford!” He shouted, nearly making Mayhew jump.
“Yes milord?” The man appeared as if out of thin air.
“Fetch Johanna and her.. guest. We’ll be having a meeting in the parlor.”
The beadle nodded his head and disappeared soundlessly. James always found it rather creepy a man of his size could slip around unnoticed.
Turpin held out his hand, and when all Mayhew did was stare at it, he cocked an eyebrow and hissed “well?”
It felt as if the room suddenly dropped in temperature as he handed over the phial.
--
“Just down this street..” The barber’s pace quickened, as if to make up for the time spent standing still.
Toby knew better than to assume Mr. Todd was talking to him, so instead he cast the barber what was surely the millionth uneasy glance that day. The delighted and crazed look in the man’s eye seemed to grow sharper at every step they took.
The pair suddenly halted.
“I suppose tha’s the place.” Toby grumbled, staring uneasily at the crowd of drooling Londoners that were positioned around the gate.
--
Mrs. Lovett did not particularly want to leave the security of Johanna’s room; if a place in the home was even secure, but she felt she had little choice when the beadle came to inform them they were invited downstairs.
Invited in her own home, really! Johanna didn’t seem to find it that odd though. In fact, she forced a smile for the beadle and said they would be down in just a moment. He tipped his heat but waited at the doorway anyway. Both woman took this as a sign they were to hurry.
Immediately feeling suspicious, Mrs. Lovett kept a tight hold on her rolling pin.
--
Turpin brushed at a patch of powder on his vest, starting to frown when it didn’t disappear. He growled and began to vigorously rub at the spot until the sound of a clearing throat brought him back to reality.
“What is it?” He snapped.
“They’re on the stairs.” Mayhew walked past him and into the study. He didn’t want her to see him just yet, but he needed to be closer than his makeshift lab. Luckily Turpin didn’t question his actions.
--
“I think we can jus’ walk past ‘em sir.”
The scowl remained fixed on Sweeney’s face.
“They ain’t doin’ nothin’.” Toby continued. “More than they normally don’t do.”
As the barber’s silence continued the boy grew nervous.
Without a word he started to walk (or really limp) towards the door of the house. Toby didn’t see a flicker of fear or hesitation in the man’s eyes as he neared the horde, so he hurried after him. They didn’t move as they walked past them, in fact, they seemed completely unaware that they were there.
Sweeney’s smirk had turned into a grin by the time they reached the door. It was unlocked.
--
“So nice of ya ta ‘ave us down.” Mrs. Lovett drawled, feeling immediately angered just by being in the judge’s presence. She also felt slightly frightened, but tired her best to make sure that it didn’t show through.
A forced smile twitched at the corner of the man’s mouth.
Johanna looked between the two before hurriedly taking Mrs. Lovett’s arm and guiding her to a chair. She took the one next to it, feeling oddly nervous as she did so. Perhaps it was the glare that Turpin had fixed on Mrs. Lovett, or the one she was sending back at him. But it could have been something else.
“Is there a reason you wanted us sir?” She asked politely, not knowing quite knowing which of the two adults seemed more intent on killing the other with their eyes.
“Tea.” He choked out, dragging his eyes to the table.
“Ya bloody well called us down for tea? We coulda done fine in her room!”
“Silence!” Turpin snarled, quickly losing all pretense of being polite.
--
Eleanor, Mayhew thought with a smile; head pressed against the study door. Her temper could always runaway with her. He quickly wiped the smile off his face as the shouting continued. James had planned on calmly walking into the parlor (eventually) and hopefully manage to prevent her from consuming any laced tea which the judge offered her. He had, unfortunately, been holding a phial of the stuff when the judge stormed in.
James winced at the loud shouts coming through the door, suddenly doubting Eleanor would ever even drink any tea.
--
“-you bitch!”
“Oh! ‘Ow dare ya!”
Having vacated her chair almost right after she sat in it, Mrs. Lovett was now standing next to the coffee table, the judge just across from her.
“How dare I what?” He snarled.
As if to prove some point Mrs. Lovett brought up her rolling pin and swung at Turpin. He caught her arm and pulled her forward, forcing her face to be inches from his.
“Don’t try that in my house again.”
Furious, Mrs. Lovett pulled herself out of his grip and swung again.
This time she caught him in the side of the head, sending him to the floor in a crumbled heap.
“Ha!” She practically screeched, pointing her rolling pin at him. “Try what?!”
The study door burst open, and her attention immediately transferred to it. “Eleanor!” James gasped, gawping at the scene. The beadle was staring at the crazed looking baker in shock, Johanna remained in her chair attempting not to look at anything, and the judge, well; the judge was still on the ground.
“James?” Her voice had turned calm, and she simply stared at him.
--
Considering the first door he attempted to open was full of frightened maids, Sweeney decided he needed a better means of locating Mrs. Lovett, or the judge.
What sounded like shouting suddenly echoed down the hall, causing Toby to go rigid.
Sweeney figured who ever was on the other side of the door was who he was looking for.
Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8