Early March 1881 - (12)

"Filthy, stinking Apes!"

My back aches from my wounds, my rage is fueled by gin, and my mood is dark and bitter. The fact that my head hurts from drinking doesn't help things.

My empty mug smashes against the wall, just narrowly missing the nimbly dodging young monkey who has just walked into my room.

"What in blazes was that for, Miss? Do that again, and kindness or no, I'll box your ears!"

The little monkey who is the other (temporary) occupant of this filth-hole is watching me closely, wary but not cowering. Never cowering. Not even when it was in danger of being beaten to death by Apes from a clan it calls "The Black Scorpion Tong."

The evening before yesterday (Saturday night)

I was near the Thames River, close to Three Crowns Lane, scouting the back alleys to learn their layout. No fixed destination in mind, just a reconnaissance patrol to see if there was anything of interest in the area. An entrance to old tunnels perhaps.

I heard a scream of anger and pain, quickly muffled, from a nearby lane way, and when I rounded the corner I found a sight that enraged me. Three grown Apes had pinned a little monkey to the ground, beating it and tearing at its clothing. Another Ape lay groaning in the alley, felled by a lucky kick or punch.

I'd seen similar sights in the worst stews of London before that night, but rarely one where the victim fought back so bravely, if futilely. The little one, biting and flailing, was bruised and bloody; close to being overwhelmed and probably killed...

I knew I could make a quick and easy difference here.

I was arrogant and overconfident. I paid for it.

I sliced the head off an Ape with my sword, and knocked another away with a reversed blow from the butt. The monkey bit the hand of the third Ape covering its mouth and yelled, "Behind you!"

The price I paid was a long shallow slice on my back and a cut on the back of my left leg, inflicted by the Ape in the alley. It must have recovered from its previous injury; it barely missed my spine as I dodged, thanks to the monkey's warning. I took the Ape down with a back-hand blow and turned back to the monkey, but the last Ape was already running away, screaming for its fellows.

The monkey leaned half collapsed against the wall, staring at me. "Thank you," it said.

It shoved off the wall, and staggered over to where I was kneeling in the alley, trying to examine my leg. I could see dark stains beneath the monkey's nose and mouth from its own blood. It fell to its knees, bracing an arm around my shoulder, across my back and I hissed.

"You're hurt!" It brought its hand around to look at it in the dim twilight, and I could see more dark stains. My blood. The monkey ducked behind me, and I could feel a more gentle touch on my back.

"My eyes aren't working right," it muttered, "Your skin looks funny..." Then briskly, "...must be your shirt cloth."

It must have seen my scales...

The thought went through my mind that I should kill it now, and save myself, but the monkey scrambled over to the bodies, and there was a rip and tearing sound. It returned with some strips of cloth, and my attacker's knife. It quickly bound up my leg, and fitted a thick pad of cloth across my back, using the knife to tear up more cloth. Then it tucked the knife away, and reached for my sword. I was still clutching it, torn over whether to kill the monkey and protect myself, and I admit I hissed. The monkey drew back, but not far.

"Right, keep it then. You might need it. Those were men from the Black Scorpion Tong, and they'll be back after me. But you need to get patched up. Do you know someplace safe, sir?"

I thought it was female from the sound and dress, but it was so very hard to tell with Apes, even after living among them for years. Would it (she?) understand simple directions?

"Not here. We need to head for Cheapside where it becomes Poultry."

It stopped and blinked at me, surprised. After a moment, it murmured, "Well if that don't beat all... Sorry ma'am. Yes, I know it well. I was born near there." It sounds almost delighted. Perhaps it believes a female to be less of a threat than a male. A foolish assumption, of course.

It draped my arm over its shoulder, and helped me to my feet, trying to keep my weight off my injured leg. I realized that it was barely as tall as my shoulder, and wondered if it was simply small or very young as well. We limped off, neither of us moving quickly, and both of us on guard against marauding Apes.

My room was over a garish Gin Palace, the entrance located in a back alley off Cheapside, up four flights of stairs. The Gin Palace at that time of night was a noisy, crowded place which stank of Ape sweat and vomit. The little monkey managed to open the door to my room, high above the noise, and helped me inside. The room was pitch black; I'm not so much a fool as to keep an unattended lamp burning while I'm out, and my night vision compensates for the lack of light. The monkey helped me to a chair, located the cheap candle on the table and lit it with a match from its pocket.

An unexpected luxury: by the dim light I could see that its clothes are half rags, even where they weren't torn from the fight. "Matches?" I asked," You carry matches?"

"I sell them. I'm a Match Girl, ma'am. Least I was the Black Scorpions decided I would earn more money for them in the oldest way." Its voice seems to shake a bit. "Do you have any water?"

"In the pitcher there." As it poured some water into a small bowl that it placed beside me I said, "I don't understand what you mean."

It dipped a bit of cloth from its' pocket into the bowl, and started to move behind me. "Thank God for that, it's nice to know there's still one innocent in this city." At my look of confusion, it sighed and explained: "They wanted me to whore for them, ma'am. Those men were going to, well, break me in."

I stared, my mind trying to catch up. All I can come up with is, "How old are you?"

"Almost thirteen."

'Almost thirteen' means it's just a hatchling! "That is truly monstrous."

"Yes, ma'am, it is." It sighed, "I'm little better than a street rat, ma'am, but I do have some pride. So I fought. I knew I couldn't stop them, but I'd be damned if I'd just give in. Thank you again for the rescue, by the way." And now I can see that its body is starting to tremble a tiny bit. "You need to take your cloak off, ma'am. This needs to be cleaned."

"I can not. Do your best with it on."

It moved behind me with the candle, and touched my back again, and with the help of the water, eased away the temporary cloth pad stuck to my skin with dried blood. I remembered that I still may need to kill it to protect my secret, but that's faded to a whining whisper in my mind rather than a shouted call to battle.

It cleared the cloth from my wound, and patted it clean. I felt the moment when it paused, thinking about what it was seeing. The monkey's paw moved to the hood of my cloak, giving it a gentle stroke, as if trying to reassure me, and then a very light tug. My hand shot up, holding the hood in place a moment, and then with a sigh I gave in, and let my hood drop. If this monkey must die, let it (no, i Her, /i my mind protests, she's female, as am I; give her some dignity,) let her at least look on the face of her killer.

I turned slowly towards her, letting her get a good look as my face swung into the light of the candle. She was less than an arm's length away, and her expression was startled for a moment, then... questioning? No screaming, no shouting, no mad scramble to get away.

I always horrified the crowds who came to stare at me in 'Jago's Monstre Gathering.' This one reacted differently. There was a long pause, and then the words she spoke surprised me:

"Sorry to be rude, but... yer not like me. What... no... Who...Who are you?"

Keep it simple, I thought, it's too much for an Ape to take in: "I'm a lizard woman from the dawn of time. My name is Vastra." I removed my cloak. There was no point to keeping it on, and it would only interfere with her work.

I only started to really notice it then, though I realized the trembling has been building in the monkey's body for several minutes. She was shaking more, but still her voice seemed open and curious, not fearful, though her voice shook a bit.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Je..." she trailed off, shakily. A shudder went through her body, distracting her, then she looked up.

"Sorry, your back, I almost forgot. Let's get this done, fast!"

She was trembling violently now; what the humans call shivering, but through the air was cold and damp since it was early March, it was not a truly bitter cold, and there was no breeze in the room. Why was she shaking so much?

Perhaps a distraction was called for. "How do you know how to dress wounds?" I asked.

"Ma taught me before she died. Me and my brother and sister were always getting into mischief. Usually small cuts and scrapes, easy to fix, but Johnny cut his head open once, and it bled something fierce. Ma said head cuts always do, and showed me how to patch him up properly."

She quickly put clean strips of cloth in place, and secured them with a few of the bloody rags wrapped around my torso. Not an ideal solution, but better than it was before, when the bandage was loosely tied, and held in place mostly by her hand.

She reached for the bowl of water, and I could see that her hands were dark with the blood from my wounds.

I saw her suddenly twist her head away from me. She sneezed, bringing her hand up to cover her face, and it came away from her nose covered in blood. She'd reopened the damage from the beating.

"Gawd, that's disgusting. Sorry, ma'am." She finished her original movement and washed her hands in the bowl. I stared at the bloody water when she was done, transfixed by the sight.

There was so much blood on her small hands, and I couldn't tell which of the blood was hers, and which was mine. To one who loves the scent and taste of human blood, the smell of our combined blood was disconcerting. Neither tasty, nor unpleasant, but...very confusing.

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm s... so cold all of a sudden..."

And then I remembered the Doctor telling me that a human body can go into a condition... something dangerous, something deadly...

Something he called Shock.

I snatched the thin blanket from the bed, and wrapped her in it. Then, ignoring my freshly bandaged wound, I picked her up and placed her on my narrow bed. I snatched up my cloak, slipped in beside her and spread it over both of us. I wanted to wrap myself around her, within the blanket, but that wouldn't help. Reptilia Sapiens generate little internal heat, and I'd only steal her warmth and cool her body, making the problem worse. She could not afford that now. But I held her, and rubbed her back and arms, trying to stimulate her own blood flow.

And I worried.

She didn't scream at my face, though adults Apes often have.

She helped me home, though she could have run in terror near the river.

She said 'thank-you.' Twice. More times that I've heard the words since I last saw The Doctor.

She's a young five-for-a-penny street Ape, and I suspect that she has the heart of a dragon.

And I realized... I didn't want her to die.

And with that thought, we both finally succumbed to exhaustion, and sleep.