it in surprise – like the last two people on the planet discovering there was a third.
“Come in!” Church bellowed.
The heavy oak door swung open, and the last two people I expected to see entered the office. It was Avery, and with her our brother Val, who was tall and smart in his black uniform. People were always amazed that we were related, as Val favoured his mother’s Japanese heritage more than his English. His indigo hair was slightly mussed – an oddity for him – and his Asian eyes the same green as mine, were rimmed with red.
One look at the pair of them and I knew something wasn’t right. They looked so… crushed.
“What is it?” I asked, rising to my feet. My chest felt tight, as though my heart hadn’t enough room to beat.
“It’s Dede,” Val said, his usually stoical expression marred by sorrow.
“What of her? Christ, Val, don’t lead with something like that and then make me wait.”
“She’s …” He stopped on a sob.
Avery put her arm around him as she stepped forward. She looked me dead in the eye – hers were as red as Val’s – and I knew then that I didn’t want to hear what they’d come all this way to tell me.
“No,” I said.
A tear trickled down Avery’s smooth cheek. “She’s dead, Xandy. She killed herself.”
A HOST OF FURIOUS FANCIES
I demanded to see the body.
Val tried to put his arms around me. “Xandy, you don’t want to do that.”
I pushed him away. “Yes I do. She’s not dead until I see for myself.” I stomped to the door of Church’s office. “I’m going to Bedlam.” All thoughts of my own fear disappeared, replaced with an odd sense of determined desperation.
Avery grabbed my arm. “Xandy, no. She … she set herself on fire.”
I froze, the tension of her hold threatening to pull my shoulder out of joint. “Dede wouldn’t do that.” I jerked my arm free. “She was afraid of fire.” And just how was that even possible? Where would she have got the tools necessary for such a macabre feat? Didn’t places like Bedlam take precautions to make sure its mad denizens didn’t give into the demons riding them?
The three of them – my siblings and Churchill – stared at me as though I were as delusional as Dede was accused of being.They looked as if they felt sorry for me that I couldn’t accept the death – and madness – of my youngest sister.
Did they not understand that no one with even a shred of their right mind would set themselves on fire? Then again, when you’re bred to be hard to kill, suicide options are limited.
I could accept it – if it were true. But it wasn’t. If Dede was dead I would know. When she was eight Dede became hung up on the idea of “blood sisters”. She had seen it on the box. I explained to her that we were already related, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to mix our blood. For some reason she was obsessed with it. I indulged her – even then I would do anything she asked – and allowed her to make a small cut on the pad of my right index finger. She did the same to herself and then we pressed the wounds together. Ever since she’d maintained that she felt closer to me because of that. Maybe it was bollocks, but it was sweet, and a part of me wanted to believe it.
If Dede was dead, I would feel it in my blood.
“Alexandra,” Church began in a tone that I suspected was supposed to be soothing, “the hospital wouldn’t have notified the family if it weren’t true.”
“Yeah?” I challenged. “No one notified me and I’m listed as her next of kin!” I turned to my siblings. Avery’s pink frock coat was buttoned up wrong, and one of her stockings had a tear. She had dressed in a hurry. “Now the two of you can either come with me or not, but I’m going to Bedlam.”
Avery looked horrified at the prospect – which was exactly why neither Dede, Val or myself had her listed as an emergency contact. Me, the one who had nightmares about Bedlam Asylum, I was going to walk
“Come in!” Church bellowed.
The heavy oak door swung open, and the last two people I expected to see entered the office. It was Avery, and with her our brother Val, who was tall and smart in his black uniform. People were always amazed that we were related, as Val favoured his mother’s Japanese heritage more than his English. His indigo hair was slightly mussed – an oddity for him – and his Asian eyes the same green as mine, were rimmed with red.
One look at the pair of them and I knew something wasn’t right. They looked so… crushed.
“What is it?” I asked, rising to my feet. My chest felt tight, as though my heart hadn’t enough room to beat.
“It’s Dede,” Val said, his usually stoical expression marred by sorrow.
“What of her? Christ, Val, don’t lead with something like that and then make me wait.”
“She’s …” He stopped on a sob.
Avery put her arm around him as she stepped forward. She looked me dead in the eye – hers were as red as Val’s – and I knew then that I didn’t want to hear what they’d come all this way to tell me.
“No,” I said.
A tear trickled down Avery’s smooth cheek. “She’s dead, Xandy. She killed herself.”
A HOST OF FURIOUS FANCIES
I demanded to see the body.
Val tried to put his arms around me. “Xandy, you don’t want to do that.”
I pushed him away. “Yes I do. She’s not dead until I see for myself.” I stomped to the door of Church’s office. “I’m going to Bedlam.” All thoughts of my own fear disappeared, replaced with an odd sense of determined desperation.
Avery grabbed my arm. “Xandy, no. She … she set herself on fire.”
I froze, the tension of her hold threatening to pull my shoulder out of joint. “Dede wouldn’t do that.” I jerked my arm free. “She was afraid of fire.” And just how was that even possible? Where would she have got the tools necessary for such a macabre feat? Didn’t places like Bedlam take precautions to make sure its mad denizens didn’t give into the demons riding them?
The three of them – my siblings and Churchill – stared at me as though I were as delusional as Dede was accused of being.They looked as if they felt sorry for me that I couldn’t accept the death – and madness – of my youngest sister.
Did they not understand that no one with even a shred of their right mind would set themselves on fire? Then again, when you’re bred to be hard to kill, suicide options are limited.
I could accept it – if it were true. But it wasn’t. If Dede was dead I would know. When she was eight Dede became hung up on the idea of “blood sisters”. She had seen it on the box. I explained to her that we were already related, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to mix our blood. For some reason she was obsessed with it. I indulged her – even then I would do anything she asked – and allowed her to make a small cut on the pad of my right index finger. She did the same to herself and then we pressed the wounds together. Ever since she’d maintained that she felt closer to me because of that. Maybe it was bollocks, but it was sweet, and a part of me wanted to believe it.
If Dede was dead, I would feel it in my blood.
“Alexandra,” Church began in a tone that I suspected was supposed to be soothing, “the hospital wouldn’t have notified the family if it weren’t true.”
“Yeah?” I challenged. “No one notified me and I’m listed as her next of kin!” I turned to my siblings. Avery’s pink frock coat was buttoned up wrong, and one of her stockings had a tear. She had dressed in a hurry. “Now the two of you can either come with me or not, but I’m going to Bedlam.”
Avery looked horrified at the prospect – which was exactly why neither Dede, Val or myself had her listed as an emergency contact. Me, the one who had nightmares about Bedlam Asylum, I was going to walk
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