Chapter 2

    I was shivering. Soaked from the rain that was still pouring down from the black sky, the water clung to my clothes preventing any chance of me warming up. The cold stones beneath me pressed into my skin. I could feel the dried blood encrusted on my skin. Slowly, I allowed my eyes to open and took in my surroundings.

    The street was still quiet in the dead of night. The houses were small and narrow, packed closely together in tight rows, smoke curled from the many chimney tops. I cowered into the wall at my back, shaking from cold. Closing my eyes I waited, though I did not know what for, I prayed I could think of something. I had no money to buy food or afford somewhere to stay. What hope was there for me? It was rash. I should have thought it through. It was such an opportunistic decision. Now I was cold and alone. I’d never felt so afraid. Ever.  

    “Hello, young lady.”

    I raised my eyes to the man standing over me, I couldn’t see much of him in the darkness and my swollen face from where Riley had beaten me meant it hurt to look up. Rain dripped from the edge of his hood and his trousers were splashed with mud. The white shirt that I could see under his cloak was creased and sticking to his skin. Brunette hair hung around his face and stubble lined his chin. Brown eyes stared down at me from under the hood.

    “Are you well?” He asked, his voice was neither rough nor musical or particularly deep. 

    “I…I…I…” I stuttered, the cold seeping through me causing my teeth to chatter.

    He knelt down next to me and I shrunk away from him, cowering with fear from this strange man. I hugged my knees to my chest, clutching my legs with numb hands. I didn’t know who he was. How could I trust him? I couldn’t trust anyone - that was my answer. They would be sure to catch me, if I did.  

    “You’re hurt,” he realised as he took in my bloodied and bruised face. “Who did this to you?”

    My lip quivered and I was unable to talk, frozen from fear and cold. He reached out and I shied away.

    “Don’t be afraid, I want to help you,” he insisted.

    In all my life no one had ever wanted to help me, except for Hettie. How did I know I could trust him? How did I know this stranger wouldn’t hurt me? I knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about me. But maybe this had been what I was hoping for, maybe my prayers had been answered and this man really was here to help me.

    This time when he reached out I didn’t move away. He placed a hand on my cheek; his palm was warm despite the rain and chilly air.

    “You’re so cold,” he murmured. Whether he was speaking to me or to himself I didn’t know.

    I started to speak but my words were lost in my throat. The events of that night had drained me so I felt like I could barely even sit up though sleep seemed a far away fantasy.

    “You need to get warm,” he said. “Can you walk?”

    I shook my head.

    “Then I’ll carry you,” he reached out to put his arms around me and I whimpered. “Come on, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, “please.”

    His face was soft and kind, and what other choice did I have than to let him help me? My decision made I crawled forward, allowing him to wrap his arms under my body and lift me up against his chest. He stood up, adjusting his hold so he held my steady.

    “It’s not far,” he told me.

    The man carried me through the streets for what seemed like hours, and I felt myself slowly being claimed by sleep the further we went. I began to relax, resting my head against his warm chest and finally allowed myself to drift to sleep in the cradle of his arms.

    When I once again opened my eyes I found myself inside, but I could still hear the rain thrumming down outside. A blazing fire warmed my cheeks and a blanket had been laid over me where I was lying on a wooden chair in front of a hearth.

    The room was small with a door in the wall opposite the fireplace; a small, wooden table had been pushed up against one wall.  The floor was of a grey stone and the walls painted an off-white colour. On the opposite side of the room to the chair I was lying on was another wooden chair. It was in this chair that the man sat, a dog curled at his feet with long, black and white fur.

    The man had removed his cloak which I could see hanging on a peg on the wall. Now that I could see him clearer I observed that he had quite a handsome face. He had a strong jaw and his chin was neither large nor small. His lips were pale and thin though not altogether unpleasant and his nose was straight but not large or ungainly. His eyes though were the thing that attracted me most. Their pleasant, brown depth was filled with a warmth of kindness.

    “Are you hungry?” he asked, finally.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I said: are you hungry?” he repeated.

    “Um… I suppose… I am… yes…”

    The man nodded and yanked open a cupboard and pulled something out, chucking it to me. I caught the object, which was a crusty white roll. It was dry, but not stale, and I ate it gladly.

    “Thank you,” I said, after a span of silence. “It is very kind of you.”  

    He seemed incredibly cold compared to the night before, at least I assumed it was the night before. There was something in his demeanour that had changed, he was more guarded.

    “What were you doing out there in the rain?” the man asked after a pause.

    “I… I don’t know…” I stuttered – it was the easiest reply. What could I say to him? I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth.

    He raised an eyebrow. “Do you not have a family to go to?”

    “No.”

    “A street girl, then?”

    “Not as such…”

    “Well what are you then? Do you have a name?”

     I could see the man was becoming frustrated and I fidgeted nervously. “I have no name. I have no home, no family. I do not live on the streets; at least I didn’t, until last night. I have no money. It was cold and raining, I was looking for shelter.”

    “I do not understand, to be truthful,” the man said, then frowned. “But you are weak and hurt, are you not?” He sighed, and shook his head. “I do not often offer charity, but I will allow you to stay here, for a few more hours, to recover your strength a little. Then you must find somewhere else to stay.”

    “Thank you, sir,” I replied, forcing back a smile. “It is very kind of you. I will be out of your way as soon as I am able.”

    The man nodded and coughed slightly. “Um… perhaps you would like to bathe?”

    “Bathe?”

    “Yes, have a bath,” the man said. “It should help you feel better.”

    “A bath?” I didn’t know what one was, I’d never come across the word.

    A smile crept onto his face. “You mean to say you’ve never had a bath?”

    I shook my head.

    “Well then,” he said, coming to his feet, “today is you’re lucky day.”

    I looked up at him. “It is?”

    “Yes,” he smiled. “Wait here, I need to go heat up the water.”

    He left the room and I was alone. It had been the first time I had seen him smile. It had not been a forced smile, and I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t as cold as I had first thought. Of course, he didn’t know the truth of where I really came from, or what I really was. Maybe he wouldn’t care? No. I couldn’t take the risk. I wasn’t going to have all this ripped away from me just because I was…different. I needed the chance to recover; I needed to take every generous gesture given to me.

    It was a while before the man returned and by then I was almost asleep again. He placed a hand on my arm and I opened my closing eyes.

    “It’s ready,” he said.

    I eased myself off the chair and placed my feet hesitantly on the floor. The man held my arm to keep me steady as I raised myself up and stood on my own two feet. I staggered and he put his arm around my waist, holding me up.

    “There is something I would like to know, sir,” I croaked.

    “I will do my best to answer,” he paused before adding. “But please, do not call me sir.”

    “What is your name?” I asked. “Then I won’t need to call you sir.”

    “Silas,” he told me.

    I allowed him to support me as we left the room and entered another of the same size which I assumed was the kitchen. There was an old stove and a roaring fire, pans were hung on the walls and there were was a cupboard, next to which was a small table. In front of the fire was a tin tub, large enough to fit a person in it, on top of a fraying rug. Water filled the tub and steam filled the room, making it hot.

    “This,” Silas said, “is a bath.”

    “Whatever is it used for?” I asked.

    He laughed, not a mocking laugh, but an amused laugh and I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

    “For washing,” he said, “but it’s also very good for relaxing.” 

    “Oh, I see,” I said.

    “I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “You don’t really want me here to see you undress, do you? There’s a towel by the bath so you can dry yourself off. When you get out I’ll take a look at those wounds that need dressing.”

    He was just about to leave when I spoke up. “Wait.”

    Silas turned back to face me, his hand on the doorknob.

    “Thank you,” I said, “it means a lot to me.”

    “It is nothing,” is all he said, and then he left the room.

    Being as careful as I could, I removed my clothes so as not to catch my wounds on the fabric and dropped them in a pile on the floor. I lifted my leg up over the side of the tin bath and slid into the water. Warmth enveloped me like a hot blanket, soaking into my skin and wetting my tangled hair.

    For the first time in my sorrowful life I felt relaxed and comfortable. Though I knew in my heart this wouldn’t last forever. The Master had told me about the classes, and how they lived, I assumed I must be in one of the poorer parts of London, though I couldn’t be sure. Silas wouldn’t be able to afford to look after me very long and soon I’d be out in the streets again anyway.

    How long could I hide the fact that I was different? Reaching round I felt the skin on my back, something I had done frequently and always felt shocked upon finding that there was not skin there, but scales, even though I knew they were there. I didn’t know how they got there; I always thought it was because I was a creature, but for some reason I felt doubt crawling into the edges of my mind.

    Then there were my enhancements as the Master called them. How long could I hide the fact that I was stronger than any normal human being and my super fast reflexes? I couldn’t hide forever. What I feared most was that whoever found me would take me back to the Master, and back to Riley.

    I shuddered at the thought. I never wanted to return to that place, ever.

    Absent-mindedly I fingered the necklace that hung around my neck, feeling its metallic surface and running my fingertips along the chain. I wondered if the Master would notice that it was missing. I knew I should not have taken it, that was wrong and a bad thing to do, but I felt like it was calling to me, asking me to take it. I shook the thought from my mind - that was childish thinking. 

    Deciding it was time to get out of the bath, seeing as the water was turning cold, I sighed, standing on wobbly feet and stepping out the tin tub. I gripped the edge to keep my balance before staggering over to the mirror I’d seen when we entered.

    It was dirty and cracked but it would do. I wanted to see my reflection, something I had never done before. As I looked into the surface I saw myself looking back at me, though I was the one person I had never seen.

    My skin was pale from being underground so long and my lips were dry and cracked. Bright, frightened eyes stared back at me, green in colour and flecked with pale blue. My dark hair hung around my face in wet strands, long and untamed since it hadn’t been cut in months.

    My appearance was something I hadn’t really wondered about before, but now I had seen myself it felt so obvious. I felt almost silly not having known what I even looked like before now.

    Taking a deep breath I turned so my back was to the mirror and looked over my shoulder, letting out a small gasp. I had envisioned the scales as being green and ugly like the pictures of lizards I had seen in the Masters’ books, but they were not so. They had the appearance of scales, but looked as if made from the membrane of butterfly wings. The scales were pale and transparent, whitish in colour but also yellow and pink at different angles. They ran in a long strip along my spine, from the top of my neck to my lower back.

    My thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the door.

    “Just making sure you’re alright,” Silas said from the other side.

    “Everything’s fine, I’m just dressing,” I replied, struggling into my damp and dirty dress.

    “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said.

    “You can come in,” I told him as I sunk to the floor, my legs giving way beneath me. I felt light-headed from hunger and my many bruises ached when I moved.

    Silas stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He was carrying a pale of water and two cloths which he set down on the floor next to me before sitting down.

    “Do you feel any better now?” he asked.

    “A little,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face.

    I hoped he would smile back, but he did not, and I felt foolish for thinking it. “Let’s take a look at these wounds.”

    First he attended my face and head wounds, cleaning a cut on the side of my head with one of the cloths and some water. The water was cold and its touch stung but I gritted my teeth and dealt with the pain. Once that was done he moved onto the scrape along my arm from when Riley had dragged me across the floor.

    “How did you get all these?” Silas asked as he wiped the wound clean.  

    I looked away. This was it. He was going to send me back there as soon as he found out. What should I do?

    Suddenly his tone turned darker. “Someone did this to you, didn’t they?”

    I said nothing, afraid to meet his gaze.

    “Tell me who,” he ordered.

    “It does not matter. I will never return. The past is behind me.” Tears fell silently down my pale cheeks and I sniffed absently. Silas pressed a hand on my cheek and turned me to face him, his eyes were soft and full of concern. He frowned at my tears, brushing them away with his thumb.

    “Don’t send me back there,” I begged, my voice barely a whisper.

    “I’m not sending you anywhere,” he assured me, “I promise.”

    I really believed he was telling the honest truth, he wouldn’t send me back; he didn’t have a reason to. Maybe I could trust him. Caution warned me against trusting anyone, but my instincts told me different about him.

    “You’re safe with me,” he said.

    Once Silas had finished cleaning my wounds he took the bucket and bloodied cloths out and returned a few minutes later.

    “I think you could do with some new clothes,” Silas said, as he knelt down next to me. “Come on, you can borrow some of mine for now until we can get you some of your own.”

    Just as he was reaching round to put his arm around me, he stopped and sucked in a gasp of air. I knew what he had seen. Through the rip in the back of my dress: he’d seen my scales.