Lanyon and Henry Ch. 04

In late July, I finally allowed Hyde to leave the house. I escorted him to the Hoary Goat, a disreputable tavern that he'd frequented in his earlier years. The inhabitants he'd once known were long gone, lost to drink or disease or violence. However, with a pocketful of Henry's pound notes, he soon found a new group of inebriates to join in his revels.

The tavern's libations were decidedly substandard--patrons had a choice of the harshest rotgut whiskey or the dregs of the local breweries. The patronage, too, left much to be desired, and I found myself cataloguing the wounds and illnesses displayed on their faces and bodies. Missing teeth, cauliflower ears, capillaries blasted from too much alcohol and too many fights. I saw evidence of cirrhosis, the pox, syphilis, and a host of skin ailments. Looking around the dark, smoke-filled room, I realized that this establishment, by itself, could fill an entire semester of classes on diagnosis and treatment for Bedford's students.

I could also feel their eyes on me. Just as I catalogued their ailments, they catalogued my privileges--the revealing clothing that Hyde had insisted I wear, my well-made shoes and bonnet, the small clutch I carried. My teeth and hair, which would fetch a steep price at a wigmaker's or dentist's. My body, which would turn a tidy profit in the City's flesh markets.

I shivered at their gaze.

Yet I never felt unsafe in Hyde's presence. He paraded me like a prized pony--or perhaps a particularly beloved sparrow. On his arm, I was an ornament, a bauble to show his success, his vigor, his wealth. I wondered what these men and women made of me. I knew they didn't see a college graduate, or a Baron's daughter, but what did they see? A high-priced courtesan? The disgraced daughter of some distinguished family?

But while they were seeing me, they were also seeing Hyde, a man who, on some base level, they recognized as being different from them. Stronger. More savage. When their eyes flicked from my face to his, I saw the greed transform to fear. Respect.

One man's face didn't change when he looked to Hyde. Sneering, he attempted to seize my arm. "This one's coming with me," he jeered, to the laughter of his companions. "She's no fit company for the likes of you!"

Hyde's grin widened and I realized that sexual intercourse might not be the only thing he'd missed while he was trapped inside my husband. "Of course, my good man!" he said, his voice soft and cajoling. "We don't want any trouble."

"There's a good lad," the man muttered, his eyes already seeking the exit. But he'd barely begun pulling me toward the door when Hyde shifted slightly. Well, all I saw was a slight twitch, but the next thing I knew, the man had released my arm and was clasping his throat. As he turned his wide eyes to Hyde, I could already see the blood spurting out between his fingers. I wondered for a moment if Hyde had somehow retained his host's knowledge of anatomy, for the knife he had grabbed off a nearby table had clearly found the man's carotid artery.

I was appalled... and inflamed. In a moment, I felt my own transformation from a daughter of the gentry and a lady of position into a scrap of meat being fought over by two wolves. I felt something primal, something vital and animalistic, open its eyes and growl inside me.

And then my companion, the wolf who had won, was tugging me toward the door. "Come, my sweet sparrow," he sang. "We have outgrown our welcome in this establishment for tonight." As we left, I glanced behind me. The man was laid out on the floor of the tavern. Someone was already removing his shoes.

When we got outside, Hyde hailed a hansom cab. Once we were inside, the animal within me demanded release. I threw my arms around Hyde, crushing my mouth to his. Pressing my body against his.

We barely made it home before I tore off his clothes.

*

The next day, as I disposed of Henry's ruined shirt, I realized how far I had fallen. A few short months earlier, I had been a researcher, bent on unlocking the secrets of Henry's astounding transformations. As for Hyde, he had been little more than a test subject, a laboratory rat that I was using to gather data.

But now, I had gone from being a reluctant object of seduction to an active participant in my own debasement. Hyde had become my lover.

This was no longer a business proposition, a tit-for-tat exchange of sex for samples. Last night, I had chosen him. I had taken the reins and demanded his assent. And I had no doubt that Hyde had noticed my transformation.

In the clear light of day, I knew that this had to end. Were it to continue, my marriage--my very self!--might not survive. I resolved to cease my interactions with Hyde.

*

My resolve lasted until September. The bruises and bites that Hyde had inflicted on my body faded, as did the aches and pains left behind by his rough use. A thin veneer of normalcy descended upon our household, but there was something missing, something lost. Henry remained distant, reminding me of the man he was before we banished Hyde, and I wondered if my dalliance had released something within him, if it had somehow turned him back into the isolated, lonely man I once knew. His eyes, which had been an open door to me over the last few years, slammed closed, and I felt the cold chasm yawing between us.

A chasm that I had created.

But Henry's was not the only absence I felt. Hyde had awakened something in me. Brought forth my own animal nature. I wondered if I had become like Henry, for--like him--I felt myself torn between my intellectual and fleshly desires. Between my own Apollonian and Dionysian spirits.

Hyde had unleashed the hungry woman within me, and she thrashed and fought and wailed in his absence. My breasts felt hard, my belly hungry. My lips wept with a need for deep, demanding kisses and bites. And, to add to my distress, my research was yielding no results. Whether because I was distracted by the ravenous Jezebel screaming inside me, or simply because none of my hammers had hit a pigeon, I found myself at an impasse--and nearly out of samples.

When I reawakened Hyde in early September, it was with the full knowledge that I was not only restarting my experiments, but also submitting to his will. And, more crucially, to my own desperate desires. Our first night together was pain and bliss and I almost forgot to take my samples. Almost.

By our second night together, I was fully committed to my course of action. I didn't know how long I would continue to pursue this ill-omened quest, but I resolved that, while I was exploring the secrets of Hyde's transformation, I would also be plundering the mysteries of my own vicious cravings. When I awakened him that night, I was already in the position he preferred: Naked, on my knees, hands behind my back.

He grinned, stood, and unbuttoned his trousers. I didn't hold back.

Later, we returned to one of his old haunts. He seemed especially jaunty that evening, even more eager than usual to display me to his comrades. He set me beside him at a long table, filled with men. Our first round of beers had barely arrived before his hand was drifting up my skirt. I tried to remain still and silent as his fingers found my garden, but as his digit entered me, I couldn't restrain myself and a moan slipped out. I noticed some of his comrades passing knowing glances to each other and felt my face growing red. His finger curled inside me, touching an especially sensitive spot, as his palm caressed my nubbin. It was barely a moment before my clasm hit and my body seized. I held myself still, hands at my sides, as the tempest tore through me. Finally, he withdrew his hand.

Quietly, I sipped my beer as my heart slowed and my thoughts returned. I noticed that Hyde was speaking to the other men at our table in low voices. They seemed to be agreeing on something. I looked at him.

"Ah, there's my sweet sparrow," he cooed. "Are you back with us?" The men guffawed and my face reddened again.

"Y-Yes... I'm quite... fine," I said. "Thank you." My response seemed quite amusing to Hyde's companions.

"Good. Good," he said, when his companions' laughter died down. "I'm going to slip outside for a moment."

A terror gripped me. "What?" I asked. "I-I'll gather my things."

"No need, Sweet Sparrow," he said. "Tom will take care of you."

I glanced at Tom, the red-faced man across the table. His grin widened, and I felt something cold within me. "No, Mr. Hyde," I said. "He most certainly will not!"

Hyde grabbed my hand. "Who do you belong to, Mrs. Jekyll?"

"You, sir."

"Very good," he crooned. His grip was like iron. "Very good. As one of my possessions, I choose what you do and who you do it with. If I choose to give you to someone else, you will go."

"I will not!" I hissed. I snatched a knife from the tabletop and pointed it at his leg, careful to avoid the femoral artery. "My body belongs to my husband, r-regardless of his form. I will not share it with anyone else."

"And what do you plan to do with that, Sweet Sparrow?"

I poked him, embedding the tip of the knife in his flesh. He didn't even flinch. I twisted my hand. "Am I making my point, Mr. Hyde?" I held his gaze. "I will not be shared."

I expected anger, fury. Instead, his grin widened and his dusty eyes glittered. He glanced up at the other men at the table. "Sorry Tom, it looks like the lady won't be joining you tonight."

Tom's face colored. "But you said-"

"I know what I said, Tom," Hyde said in a light tone. "Now I'm saying something different. Would you like discuss it further outside? Or would you prefer to concede the point?"

Tom's face paled. "Um, yeah, right, Mr. Hyde. Plans change."

I withdrew the knife and Hyde smiled at me. He looked oddly... proud, even as he ran his fingers through my hair and seized it in his fist. "Are you ready to adjourn for the evening, my Sparrow?" he growled. "As convivial as these surroundings are, the night is still young."

"Yes, Mr. Hyde," I hissed. "I think I'm ready to leave."

When we departed the tavern, he steered me to the left, where a dark alley yawned between the tavern and the pawnbroker next door. I heard groans from the darkness. Someone wounded? A prostitute plying her trade? I couldn't tell, and I didn't have very much time to ponder the question, as Hyde turned me so I was facing away from him. "Put your hands on the wall," he growled. "Now!"

I did, and I felt him hoist up my skirt. A moment later, he was inside me. Stretching, filling me. "Yesss," I gasped. "Oh, god, yes!" My skin felt like it was aflame. Like it was glowing.

He clutched my buttocks and thrust himself in and out of me. I pushed back from the wall, half afraid that he was going to push me through it. "Yess!" I cried.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled.

"You! I'm yours!"

"Mine or Jekyll's?"

"Yours! Only yours!"

I felt him explode within me as a spasm clasped my body. My senses fled.

*

Henry was staring at me across the dinner table. I felt overheated, and sweat poured down my forehead. My vitals were churning, my abdominal muscles cramped stretched tight. This was no simple upset stomach. I felt my arms, my legs, my chest seizing. "H-Henry?" I sobbed. "Wh-what's happening to me?"

My husband's face was closed. A wall, cold and forbidding. "It would appear that you ate something you disagreed with, my dear. I'm sure it will pass."

"H-Henry, what did you give me?" Tears pushed out of my eyes. It felt like my skin was burning. Tearing.

"Some things that you are familiar with, my dear. Datura, belladonna, liberty caps." He smiled. It was cold. "Perhaps a hint of strychnine. I have it on good word that you welcome a touch of pain."

"Dear God, Henry!" I gasped. "Th-the potion?"

"Well, certainly, a potion," he said. "Don't worry, my darling. It won't kill you. But things may be getting a little... peculiar."

Gasping, I raised my eyes to his. They were cold. A cool, forbidding blue... with a splash of tan.