They were in a house that asked no questions. Many men came here looking for
the 'East End Experience' ...and almost all of them needed...assistance to find
it. Whether from a girl or a pipe the house didn't care--it provided both.
The room was small and cramped, that was all they gave men who insisted on
bringing in their own girls. The house resented this slap in the face. But
they provided the sticky pats of opium all the same,
and a small room with bed and divan and two flickering lamps that barely kept
the shadows from creeping from the corners and overtaking the room.

Stephen sat on the musty old divan, twisting round his finger the marriage band
that sat there. He smoothed down his waistcoat and settled deeper into the
velvet, gazing avidly at the two figures before him.

"Havin' a good time?" drawled one of the girls from where she lounged against
the divan. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and wished he'd get on
with it. Stupid cunt, stiffing her... she'd show him, all right.

Stephen reached down and fiddled with a curl of her hair. "Quite, love." Slowly
his fingers found her collarbone and then her breast, lingering there. He
smiled.

The other girl, for her part, sat lone and quiet on the floor beside the divan.
She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands on a pillow and let her eyes
flit back and forth between her two companions.
She didn't speak, only let her opium-laced grin do all the talking for her.

The smoke curled through the air now as if it were a living thing. It was blue
and softly wafting through the draft coming in through the door and curled
slowly around the room's three occupants.

He breathed in deep, shifted position slightly. His head lolled a little to the
left on his shoulders... but he kept the smile, even if it was a bit foggy.
"Darlin'... "

The smoke was somewhere between liquid and gas and it was as Venus rising on the
half shell as Roisin came to her knees before the divan.
Her eyes flitted back and forth, wondering if they even saw her, and she was
surprised to find that she didn't care.

The other girl, who went by Penny on the streets, smiled her best seductive
smile. "Watcha want, luv?" she cooed. "Ready for somma the real stuff?"

"Yeh... love, gimme it all." Stephen Fincke might've said it and meant it, but
when he leaned forward all he managed was a lolling slump into the whore's arms.

Grinning widely anyhow, he groped his lips up to kiss her. Where they landed
didn't matter all that much.

Penny's face twisted in a disgusted sneer, but all she said was, "That's right,
there's a luv. You want me or 'er first?"

Roisin took that opportunity to slide up onto the divan behind him and wrapped
her arms around his neck. Was he really going to forget her then?
"You want me?" she purred into his ear. He wasn't anything special, but she had
a landlord to pay off.

Stephen looked happily back and forth between them, bleary eyes swimming around
in his head. "Your call," he murmured. "I'm that nice, eh?"

Penny exchanged a glance with Roisin. "You want 'im?" she murmured. "I c'n
wait..."

He wasn't, but the opium was. Roisin found her hand creeping into the waistband
of his trousers. She barely heard Penny's voice.

"Fine, fine... I'll take one of you..." He began to unbutton himself, or tried
to, counting the buttons but ending up with half his waistcoat undone and half
his trousers down, stuck in the middle. "Oooh.."

The smoke in the air above their heads...they couldn't see it but it began
slowly slowly to swirl. Not in any patterns...just a slowly swirling cloud of
blue-white smoke that smelled heady and intense and for some reason refused to
dissipate.

Penny rolled her eyes and gave the trousers a good yank. There was a loud
ripping sound as one of the buttons parted company with the fabric, but they
were off, was the point, and the money in his pockets came with them.
She left Roisin to distract him while she rifled through the coins.

"Hey there... hasty.." Stephen turned his attentions upon Roisin, fondling
behind him as best he could.

Roisin stifled a giggle at Penny's actions and moved over Stephen to push him
down onto the divan. She straddled his belly and looked down at him with a
quizzical smile. "Hm...how d'ye want me then?”

"Your call, darlin'..." Something in her words, however, made him think of his
wife. She'd said something like that, the last time they... back before she was
sick. His eyes lost focus for a moment.

Above them, the smoke began slowly and silently to coalesce. Too slow to
notice...

Her hand ran up into his hair and she giggled a little bit. "Stay with me..."
she whispered, then brought her head down to kiss his face and neck.

Bloody hell, the man'd had near four pounds on him. Penny stared at the
unexpected riches in her hands, then glanced at Roisin, feeling suddenly a
little guilty. She really ought to share...or at least give her some of it...

He kissed right back, sliding his hands up around Roisin's waist, moving them
up and down. The smoke had gone to his head so much he didn't notice the soft
tinkling of coins... not that he would have even without the opium.

Roisin did notice the tinkling of coins. If she'd been a horse or a cat her
ears would have turned right 'round. As it was, though, they didn't stir.
The only sign that it had registered was a faint tremor that ran down her back,
and that the man would probably ascribe to his own caresses.

Stephen did ascribe it to his own caresses, and began to increase them, nipping
at Roisin's cheek. "Mm, sweetheart..." he breathed.

Penny counted the coins swiftly, and stuck all but a pound safely into her boot.
She could split that with Roisin and have a clear and easy conscience. She
turned back to the pair on the divan with a smile clenched on her teeth.

Roisin didn't like being on top. She felt naked and vulnerable, even when--like
now--she was fully clothed.
So she slid off him and leaned back with her head hanging off the foot of the
divan. She pulled him after her, over her, pulling her skirts up as she did so.

Stephen followed with little hesitation, greeting this new turn of events with
relish. The skirts were up; that was something he could acknowledge, unlike the
rest of the room, which was more of a hazy blur.

There was a sudden hush in the room. Sudden and silent and imperceptable. As
if something was waiting. Waiting for...

The man he pushed forward, burying his face in the girl’s soft neck.

A shiver ran down Penny's spine, and she stood, suddenly. "Hoy," she whispered.
"What's goin' on?"

Roisin's head dangled lazily off the edge of the divan. Her unfocused eyes
tried to find Penny. She was upside down. For some reason Roisin found this
hilarious and she burst into giggles. She bit her lip to hold back the laughter.

There was a feeling of amusement in the room. Silly creatures! Silly things.
Hush, hush, hush, sang the smoke as it curled around the little blonde's ear.

Stephen heard Roisin's laughter, and burst into some giggles of his own. But
just like that he subsided, and went back to kissing and caressing, sensing
something a little off--but not caring in the slightest.

"It ain't funny!" Penny snapped, backing up against the wall and crushing the
coins she held into her palms. "Somethin' ain't right!"

Roisin's back arched at Stephen's kisses, she could almost imagine he was
someone else and that started to feel nice. Her eyes found Penny, cowering
against the wall. "Shhhhhhh...." she whispered.

And with Roisin words the seductive smoke of the room hurried to carry them.
Shhh, shhhhh said the susurrus of tiny voices as the blue-white tongues
touched the girl's ears. Sit. Sleep. Be stilllll...

"Roisin," Penny whispered, trying to merge into the wall. "Roisin, something
ain't right..." She slid to the ground and huddled there.

He kissed her hard, and dove. There were strange voices all around him, and one
of them sounded like that girl... but that had little weight against the moment.
Roisin's arch met his.

She was probably right. There was something odd in the air, something besides
the clouds of smoke that seemed to grow more tangible by the second. Her hips
thrust up to meet his and her eyes closed...

The smoke continued to curl around the blonde girl slumped against the wall. It
soothed her and stroked her with tiny velvet sighs and kissed her eyes closed.
And as it did, there was warmth on her face, and her bruises seemed to fade into
inconsequential things as the pretty blue white wrapped her up silently and
stealthily in a cocoon of stillness.

Stephen pressed and pressed and pressed, his lips hard against Roisin's neck.
"Darling..." he murmured.

The coins clattered to the floor as Penny's hand relaxed. She felt herself
relax, and finally let go. Warm, she was so warm, and in a nice thick coat, with
a full belly and a soft bed... Her head lolled to the side.

She inhaled deeply, taking that tangy, watery cloud into her lungs. Her head
spun and her body seemed to fade away. "Mmmm...Whit--" she gulped down the rest
of the name. "Stephen..." she moaned.

"Darlin'," Stephen said, "Love... " He held her close as he could, breathing in
her scent (and a good deal of smoke as well) and revelling in the soft touch of
girl-flesh.

The smoke...the smoke curled in their lunges and seemed to creep into every
corner and in at every orifice. It also became more of a presence in the little
room..
somehow more solid and more palpable. As the man strove against the girl the
soft tendrils reached out to both of them and stroked them both to higher
exertions.

Stephen gasped and rolled, pulling Roisin with him.

Roisin was on top again. It made her a little nervous, and she pulled back to
sit straddling him. She looked down at him through the blue haze, her eyes
droopy and tired.

And immediately the little tendrils began to stroke and prick at her. Wake up,
wake up! Move, rub, stroke, rock... they were mindless little things but they
took hold of the girls
hips in little hands and pricked her into motion as above the man...a shape
begam slowly to form.

She would never have known that anything outside herself was moving her. She'd
never have imagined it. She was actually rather happy with herself that she
managed to get over her nerves and perform. She smiled softly, absently.

Stephen kept his hands on Roisin's waist, wanting her closer. "You're beautiful,
lovie.." He arched his back, staring into the wisps of smoke that swirled above
him, not really seeing them.

Her back arched and her eyes closed. Her head felt like it weighed a metric
ton, and she let it loll to the side even as she giggled a little at his
compliment. "Am I...really?" she whispered.

The girl couldn't see it, but sharp little blue-white spines began to form
lengthening out in sharp points, slipping to either side of her heavy head...

Stephen turned his eyes to the girl above him, looking at her, and yes--she did
seem oddly beautiful to him at that moment. There was a strange miasma of
whiteness around her head, haloing it round like an angel.
The smokes, he thought, and giggled giddily. "Beau... tiful..." he whispered.

It was beautiful still as the tiny little sharp pointed fingers of smoke drew
close and pricked against the girl's cheeks. They caressed her softly....and
left tiny thin trails of red in their wake.

She was leaning down to kiss him as the sharpness raked over her face. Her eyes
were closed, and it occurred to her that his fingernails were awfully sharp for
a man's.
That was far more interesting and exotic than she'd given Stevie-boy credit for.
She sighed contentedly, barely noticing the warmth dripping down her cheeks.

He kissed, feeling himself relax into her embrace. It crossed his mind that her
kiss was exceptionally wet compared to the previous ones... in fact, it had
gotten all over his face somehow.

The long sharp hands descended. They curled around Stephen now...clutching to
his chest and pushing hard against him as if the little smoke-fingers were
trying to worm their way in.
...they were starting to look less and less like smoke...

"Dear, don't--" Stephen began, "...that's sharp... ow..." He tried to push
Roisin back a little. She was a wild one, this one. It was hurting. His chest
was hurting. There was something wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open, only a little bit, but enough to sort of spy a pale
pair of hands rubbing over Stephen's chest.
That registered confusion until she remembered Penny, but then her eyes flicked
up and alighted on his face...red and wet and sticky...she screamed.
Wordless, and not even registering in her own ears.

Harder, the fingers pushed. In and in and in to clutch at his vile faithless
heart! At least this is what the tiny voices said now. They were vindictive
and cruel now, not soothing
and they swept in a whirlwind around the room whispering about betrayal and
punishment forming into arms. Into strands of hair. Into a mouth that formed
the hateful words.

Against the wall, Penny twitched and shuddered in her sleep. Her hands crooked
into claws and her arms came up to cross over her head, but still she did not
wake.

As Roisin's scream ripped through the air, Stephen's eyes flew open--and moments
later he was struck, squeezed, crushed... his heart felt as though it were going
to burst. He looked up into... a face.

Her shrieks didn't stop, and Roisin pushed back off of Stephen forcefully. Her
hands flew to her face, rubbing in the thick viscous fluid that coated her
cheeks.
She didn't know if it was hers or his, and she didn't care. Her eyes clamped
shut and she shook her head violently.

The voices swept through the room, almost audible now. Betrayer! they hissed.
Deceiver! Faithless...and his collar and waistcoat were rent under their
vindictive punishment.

Stephen stared into the eyes of his Jane. "No!" he gasped, "I wasn't!" Then
abruptly he screamed, long and high and horribly.
It was her, it was her, it was her. He felt the spikes against his flesh and
screamed.

Finally, finally, Penny clawed her way out of the sleep or exhaustion or
whatever it had been to full awareness. She gasped, choked on the air, then
scrambled to her feet and ran to the door.
It refused to open, and she pounded on the door, even resorting to kicking it in
desperation when the wood refused to give.

Roisin threw her hands over her head, trying to hide not just her eyes but her
entire head, her entire being from the scene before her. She wasn't even sure
what she was seeing, but she knew it was horrible, horrible, horrible.

The shape...for it was a shape now and recognizable at least to one person in
the little room took no heed of that panicking girl. She hadn't done it. But
the other one, the dark one?
they clutched at her, the little tendrils of smoke coming off the monstrous
shape, and tore at her skirt turning her this way and that to confuse and
confound and trap her. The hussy! the low, common thing!
Stephen, though, saw the eyes...deep black pits with glowing red orange embers
of hate and retribution shining from them. They bore into him, burning...

"Let us out, let us out!" Penny screamed, a sob catching at her voice. "Please,
let us go, we didn' do anythin', let us out please!" She fell back against the
door, groping for the handle, sobbing in fear.

Roisin started crying softly now, silent sobs that left her shaking and
helpless. It was like some of the rough Johnnies, they made her feel like
that--afraid and anxious. Pathetic and helpless.

He tried to reel backwards, tried to look away, but he couldn't. Her--his Jane's
eyes!--kept him and held him and wouldn't let go.


"I didn't, I didn't, I didn't!" he sobbed, grasping at his chest, trying to
hold it together even though for the most part it was only the fabric that was
torn.

The face was drawn and white, the eyes burned hotter and hotter and when the
mouth opened it was full of needle-teeth all thin and impossibly sharp. They
glinted in the dim lamplight. Foul! the thing hissed. And around Roisin?

Just those clutching pawing hands for her. Just hands that never let go that
pulled and pushed and demanded...

She gasped. The pushing and prodding, that insistent touch...she could almost
hear a voice in her ear, though there was nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut
and began humming to herself nervously.

A lullaby, a stupid child's song, but it was the only thing that could drown out
the bad.

The hands...they weren't those needling sharp hands that clawed at the faithless
Stephen, opened up deep gouges on his chest and shoulders.

Those eyes, those eyes... Stephen screamed--he could not look away, but out of
the corners of his eyes he could see the teeth, glinting silver and bright and
cruel. "Nooo, I never, PLEASE..." His chest exploded into pain.

They kept on him. But not for Roisin. No, to her they were large hands,
pressing, insisting. Gentle in one moment and hurtful the next.

The world in which she'd been straddling Stephen was gone. The world in which
she'd been a woman, or something passable as such, was gone. She was back
somewhere horrible and frightening, somewhere lonely and dark.
Those hands...so large...made her feel like a child, helpless and small. She
curled into a foetal position, but it didn't stop.

the wood finally gave way under the bevy of kicks that the girl Penny laid on
it. The rotted timber creaked and groaned and finally, finally her booted foot
broke through.
People had heard the screams. They were on the other side of the doors,
reaching and helping and asking frightened questions in many languages...
All Stephen could hear, though, was that voice and thundering in his ears.
Deeper the sharp fingers clawed at him! all the way to reach his inconstant
heart!

The eyes, abruptly, released him from their grasp... Stephen jerked his head
away. He had a brief surge of hope, frantic, desperate hope that maybe he was
freed--and there were other voices now, besides the ones crying of hate and faithlessness. But as he jerked away, he saw another thing--two hands, long fingered hands, tipped in silver razor points. They descended, ripped and tore at him.

But they would never let him go! His wife's face was twisted and vile as it
cackled with obscene glee and tore the man's flesh to jagged shreds.

Deeper and deeper they went, those sharp fingers now like deadly precise blades
that opened him seeking out the blackness that the voices whispered was under
his skin.

Stephen couldn't scream anymore--his mouth open silently--and fountains of gore
spilled out, and he watched, beyond horror now, as his life was ripped away...

The eyes burned like fires now. The voices screamed with vindication and
satisfaction as bright arterial red sprayed the walls, as that beating, thumping
organ was drawn out by the bony spears--stabbed and sliced and
finally...stilled.

As the crowd practically fell into the room the sight that greeted their eyes
was the eviscerated body and a small dark girl shaking and whimpering in the
curled up position she'd assumed. Penny was already running screaming and wild
into the streets. Her words made no sense but her wild eyes told the tired
street people everything.
Back in the room, they stared--how could they not stare? A few hands pulled the
other girl up roughly and peelers showed up. Goodness knew the girls had enough
trouble working what with clients forming this new habit of getting disembowled.
Peelers nosing about. They pushed Roisin into a chair in a still, dark room and
gave her gin until she slept.
But most of them couldn’t move. They just stared. And every person that saw
the sight knew it would stay with them for a long, long time. In nightmares,
maybe. Or in half-remembers fears. Or at least every time--for the rest of
their lives--they smelled that sickly sweetness of opium.