The crowd pushed forward.
“Oh, what’s that?” the man shouted, cupping a slender hand at his ear, and looking towards the wagon. “My assistant tells me it’s time for another of our entertainments.”
A roar of applause and verbal encouragements sounded all around Malise.
Alice exclaimed, “Let’s get closer to the stage where we can see.”
With her arm still through Malise’s, she pulled her forward. They lost the other nurses somewhere in the press of bodies. Soon, they stood at the edge of the stage. Others, also trying to get closer, pushed and elbowed them from the side and from behind.
“All I need is another pretty girl to do the honours. This time, instead of one of my assistants, let us call someone out of the crowd.” The tall blond man surveyed the multitude.
Young women surged forward, raising their hands to him. “Me. Me, please.”
“You? Or you?” he teased them, his handsome lips curling into a broader smile. “No. . I think. . you.”
Malise’s eyes widened on the tip of his finger, which was undeniably pointed at her.
“Go on, Malise! It will be fun.”
“I really don’t wish to—”
Arms grasped her elbows and her waist, lifting her on to the stage.
The man’s face appeared very close to hers. His hand pressed against her lower back. “Welcome to my show. I am Dr Ether.”
Her pulse beat a frenzy. She whispered, “Really, I decline. I’ve never been one for dramatics.”
He stroked a hand down her cheek, his smile widening. “Never fear, the part is small and involves no dialogue.”
“No, truly—”
Dr Ether disappeared and his assistants surrounded her, jostling her to the far edge of the stage, laughing and cajoling and praising how daring she was. Behind her, something weighty and creaky rolled against the wood, as if on wheels. The cold firmness of wood pressed against her back, and leather straps circled her wrists and ankles. She struggled but it was too late. The girls danced away, leaving her strapped to a large circular panel. They clapped their hands and encouraged the crowd to do the same.
Dr Ether approached again. Her gaze fell to his sides, where he clenched a cluster of gleaming, foot-long blades in one hand. “I think everyone has a bit of actor in them. All it takes is getting oneself into the right frame of mind.” He spoke to her softly, as if oblivious of their audience. “Take the emotion of fear, for example. Even if one is on stage and with full realization there is no danger to one’s person, the successful actor must put themselves into a believing state of mind.”
He tossed one of the blades from his crowded left hand to the palm of the empty right.
Her pulse staggered. “Sir, truly, I don’t wish to participate—”
“Shhhhh,” he soothed. “You must forget the existence of the audience. And the stage, and the curtains, and the ropes and pulleys, and the orchestra. . and convince yourself to believe you just might be a breath. . away. . from death.”
He bent and with a growl of effort, slammed the tip of the blade between her ankles. She shrieked. The blade pierced through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, into the wood panel.
“For your modesty,” he growled, low in his throat. “Your skirts around your head would no doubt incite the crowd into a frenzy but that’s not at all the effect we’re going for.”
She recognized something in the gleam of his eyes and hidden in his handsome smile. A potential for cruelty.
He backed away, three remaining blades in hand. Reaching the far end of the stage, he offered her a dramatic, assessing glance. “Too easy. That is too easy, what do you say my friends?”
The shouts from the crowd filled the alleyway, deafening in their intensity.
“Too easy.”
“Spin the wheel.”
“What was that?” he asked. “Spin the wheel?”
A unified chant emerged. “Spin. . the. . wheel. Spin. . the. . wheel.”
“No!” shouted Malise but her protests were drowned by the enormity of the sound.
He grinned at his adoring audience. “If you insist.”
A young woman appeared beside her, someone familiar. One of the new nurses. The one named Jane. Only Jane had shed her coat. Her hair shimmered in long curls around her shoulders and her lips had been painted bright scarlet.
“Spin. . the. . wheel.”
“Jane?” Malise gasped, now not just frightened but panicked.
“I’m sorry but do I know you?” laughed Jane, a stack of golden bracelets jangling on her arms. Her hands gripped the wooden handle above Malise’s head and with a lusty shout she pulled. Everything moved. Spun.
THUNK.
Malise struggled against the force of movement, bent her neck to see. A blade jutted out, a half inch from her right side.
“No more!” she screamed, her hair loosening, and swinging about her face.
THUNK.
She froze. That one, just beside her ear.
A sudden roar filled the alley. A flash of light blinded her and heat scorched her skin.
“Seether!” a voice bellowed.
THUNK.
Midnight
“Bloody hell,” cursed Dominic. “Your hair.”
Nurse Bristol pushed up, and rubbed her eyes. She lay half-sprawled on the grass, her bodice torn and her undershirt parted, which bared the lovely swell of her breasts. Her hair, now streaked with silver moonlight, fell in soft disarray over her shoulders. After Ether and all of his new followers had disappeared, screaming, growling and hissing into the night, Dominic had brought her here to this empty field.
Recognizing him, her eyes widened. “You.”
His mouth went dry. God, had he done the right thing? He threw the now-empty ampoule into the darkness.
“Why is my bodice wet?” She paused. “Ugh. That’s. . blood.”
He nodded. “Yours, Nurse Bristol.”
“Malise. Call me Malise.” She searched her body. “But I’m not hurt.”
“You were, though.” He reached out and with his fingertips, touched her bare skin at the centre of her chest. “Here. The knife went in here.”
She pressed her hand over his, holding his palm against the swell of her breast. She appeared interested. Not at all shocked.
“That makes no sense. But. . I believe you. I feel so different. Unafraid. You don’t know how that feels,” she whispered, her lips slowly forming a smile. If he’d found her beautiful before, she was that, tenfold, now. “I am oddly unconcerned that apparently something momentous has happened to me that I can’t explain. Would it have anything to do with the awful taste in my mouth?”
St Vinet lifted the empty ampoule. “It was meant for them. There was enough for everyone in the crowd who drank or ingested Ether’s false elixirs.”
“Those things never work. He’s a liar, only taking advantage of their hopes and stealing their money.”
“Oh, but his elixirs do work. Only they don’t heal. They enslave.” He pushed himself up from the ground.
She, too, stood, brushing the grass from her rumpled skirts. “Like opium turns people into addicts?”
“Much, much worse, Malise. His victims are transformed into Seethers, who then grow ravenous for the emotion of misery. They prey upon weaker mortals. They exploit and kill, in terrible ways.”
“But I didn’t drink any of his elixirs” she said softly.
“I didn’t even consider that. I just. . couldn’t let you die and hoped this might heal you somehow. Things went further than I expected. You are more than healed now. You are. .”
He closed his mouth.