Chapter Six

For a moment silence rang in the cold, empty halls. Lawrence was left alone to tend his thoughts in quiet contemplation. An opportunity seldom seen.

Soothing quiet.

For a moment he stood, the peaceful hush washing over him like a wave. Schatten, much like Lawrence, was quiet unless riled. He left the confines of their home far more often but always slipped back in without a sound, creating not a ripple in Lawrence’s meditative thoughts.

Theodore, to the contrary, was loud and rambunctious. The stereotypical Texan straight down to his boots despite being in a foreign land and a hundred years past his birth.

What one does when alone, Lawrence thought, was a reflection on their character. Schatten explained that he would walk around the city for hours until he found a good spot to sit. Once there he would wait, wait until he was done. Recently, he had taken to staring into the bay, leaning against the rail or from across the street, the harsh brick pressing against his back.

Theodore was simple. He did not enjoy leaving the relative comfort of their home, thus spent his time cleaning his boots among other things. There was never a spot of dirt on those boots, every scuff worked out with tender care. Working allowed him to relax and since he no longer had cattle, his leather boots would have to do.

Carefully Lawrence knelt in front of a cupboard, opening it quickly. His fingers worked across the paper covers, they knew their job well. Pulling out a random record Lawrence delicately placed it atop the turn table, starting it with only a moments pause. His two companions were under the impression his collection was comprised purely of classical composers; Bach, Mozart, Debussy and Mendelssohn to name a few.

When the lively music started to play a smile crept onto Lawrence’s face, smooth jazz. Soon Lawrence was reduced to sways and then to dancing, a book in his hand. “I have an urge, immensely intense. I’m on the verge of jumping the fence…”

Suddenly the door slammed, freezing Lawrence in his tracks. “Theodore?” He called, he had not expected him back so soon. When the Texan did leave he usually left for hours. Had he really heard the door? Theodore usually called back, making his presence known.

Lifting the needle off the record carefully, Lawrence paused, taking in a lung full of air slowly. The fresh scent of blood had seeped into the atmosphere, the iron tang coating the warmth. “Theodore?!” It didn’t smell like Theodore’s blood, had something happened? Had he slipped?

“Lawrence! Help me!” Schatten rounded the corner, carrying the limp form of Myrna Aorlich, blood dripping down the side of her face and along her neck. “Help me, you were a doctor!”

For a moment Lawrence stood frozen, looking over the wound from his distance. “Put her on the table.” He instructed, letting the needle fall as he rushed to get what he needed. From down the hall the sound of books hitting the floor echoed off the walls, just as he returned Schatten moved a glass vase off the table, Myrna’s form now alone on the table. “Get me hot water and a clean towel.” With that Schatten was gone, scurrying off. Lawrence could work.

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Myrna groaned lightly, pain washed over her in waves. Slowly she turned her head, she needed to get up. A cold hand grabbed her jaw, turning her head back to it’s original position. “Stay still.” A voice prompted gently. “You hurt your head, I need to stop the bleeding.” The voice was unfamiliar but soothing, seeping calm even though tension lay as an undertone.

Briefly Myrna opened her eyes a crack. A man sat next to her, pale with sharp features. Golden green eyes behind a pair of glasses were fixed on the side of her head and pale blonde hair lay atop his head, jutting out in layers. It was cropped short, his bangs combed to the side. Still it fell in front of his face, resting on the frame of his glasses.

“Relax… I’ve been a doctor for more than two hundred years.” Slowly Myrna’s eyes closed, the heavy weight of sleep pulling her down.

Soon Myrna found herself standing in a room, faces lining the walls. In the center of the room were beakers and test tubes, science equipment filling the table. Another, directly across from the table covered in glass, was an identical one covered in books and papers. On one corner lay the same book she had found in her house, next to it a music box.

A door appeared suddenly, black in the darkness of the room. A figure stepped out from behind the door, jagged and hunched, undefined but for it’s yellow eyes piercing the blackness. Stepping fully into the room, the figure seemed to split. Dividing like a cell, one staying in place as calm as a cat. The second dived for her, attacking.

The clawed hand passed through Myrna in an instant, a hot shiver running down her spine as she split too. The new her was sent into the table covered with books, knocking it over. For a moment the room shifted and when Myrna looked again, the new her appeared just as the woman she had seen in the book still hidden in the library. “—“ The woman’s mouth moved as if she was speaking, but Myrna couldn’t hear her. The second figure, still calm, walked toward her slowly.

She couldn’t move, was frozen in place- but not by fear. The figure put a hand to the side of his head and Myrna followed suit, she couldn’t stop herself. A hot fluid coated her fingers and when she lowered her hand it was covered in blood. After a moment the warm red liquid bubbled and shifted, gathering into tiny shapes. Within seconds her cupped hands were covered in small white mice.

Their white coats were speckled in blood, their faces contorted in pain. They had killed each other, died a painful death. Screaming, Myrna let the mice fall but as they neared the floor they decomposed, when they clattered to the stone a mere pile of bones marked their existence.

Responding to the hollow rattle, the music box started to play, the eerie music echoing off the walls.

And then it was gone.

Myrna jolted up suddenly, panting. Quickly she put a hand to her head, a rough bandage was wrapped around it, pressing gauze to her flesh. Had the blonde man bandaged her? Where was she?

Carefully she looked around. A few candles provided a soft light that washed over the large room. It was furnished with well maintained antiques, shelves were lined with books and large windows were covered with thick curtains. A few books were haphazardly spilled on the floor around her as she lay on a table, a pillow placed under her head and a blanket draped over her.

Slowly swinging her legs over the side, Myrna stood carefully. This looked like a home of some sort, but it was much too big. Noticing the cabinet by the wall Myrna crossed the room. A turn table sat open, a record sitting placidly atop it as if begging to be played.

Pausing only a moment, Myrna grabbed the needle, placing it atop the record delicately and starting the machine. From the speakers a smooth, up-beat melody played, “I have an urge, immensely intense. I’m on the verge of jumping the fence. Over the leap to begin with there’s cheap consequences come at my expense….”

“Myrna? Vat are you doing avake? How are you feeling?” Schatten rounded the corner quickly, responding to the sound of music. The blonde man was quick on his heels.

“I’m fine. What happened? Where am I?” Again Myrna looked around the room, it was so strange.

“You hurt your head. Ve thought best to bring you here.” After a moment Schatten turned to the man behind him, confusion crossing his features. “Lawrence, since ven did you ‘ave jazz?”

“Some say the grass grows greener on the other side. They all desire, what they can’t acquire….”