Death of Connor Sanderson: Chap 2: Part 2

Chapter Two: Part 2.
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He had a grasp on a handful of puzzle pieces but as yet, apart from the certainty that he was forever changed, he had no clue how many more surprises his rioting senses had in store. He felt as though he were hanging on by his fingernails until he met with the compelling and terrifying Malachi.

Connor heaved a sigh, and knew instinctively that it would not matter if he did not take in another breath...ever.

I will be there in the morgue at midnight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Connor rested back against the olive green leather seat, and willed Reginald to get a move on, a motorcar rumbled its way along the street, metal and rubber grinding together as the bumps in the road threw the car chassis into disarray. The carriage lurched violently as the two chestnut geldings shied, and their hooves clattered on the stones in the pitted surface.

Harker whistled a familiar calming descant as he murmured, "Whoa, boys, it's just one of them newfangled motorized vehicles."

Inside the carriage, Connor grinned. Harker was convinced that the horse and carriage was the only mode of transport fitting for a gentleman. He was afraid, with the highways of London becoming a melting pot of trolley omnibuses, bicycles, and, the fastest growing trend, the motorcar, that Harker was doomed to disappointment.

Putting step two of his plan into action, Connor twisted the brass t-bar handle, swung the half-glazed carriage door open and stepped out. "William, when Master Cranham arrives, beg him to wait in the carriage. I am taking a stroll around the block, I need some air."

William frowned as he peered down from his high perch on the carriage pillion seat. "Are you sure you are feeling alright, Sir?"

Connor stared off into the mid-distance, the brim of his hat casting a deliberate shadow over his carefully composed features, "It would be bad manners to cry off from dinner now, William. I am sure I will feel much improved after a walk to blow away the cobwebs."

Tapping the rim of his hat decisively, Connor set off at a purposeful pace until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. A few yards further along the sidewalk, Connor stopped walking and sank back into shadow, leaning against the wall with the eerie stillness of an indolent statue.

He listened to the jingling of the horses' bridles, and the snorting of breath from their velvet nostrils as they whinnied softly. He picked out the swishing effect of Harker running the roughened nap of well worn leather reins through his suede clad palms, and listened for Reggie's footsteps to ring out through the night air.

He did not have to wait long. The waft of antiseptic sharpened his senses like a dose of smelling salts as the ten feet tall wooden front doors to the hospital swung open and bounced closed again with a satisfying thump, and Reggie descended the flight of stone stairs, coming to rest at the bottom.

"Evening, Sir. Master Sanderson begged you wait in the carriage. He has taken a turn around the block." With the lowered whisper of a servant that enjoys gossip more than fearing its impropriety, William added, "Just between you and me, Sir, I think the Master is feeling under the weather."

As Reggie drew a concerned breath to answer, Connor appeared beside him, startling William into a flush of ruddy embarrassment.

Darting a look of pretended indignation at William, Connor opened the carriage door and ushered Reggie inside, saying lightly, "About time, Reginald. I was about to give up on you."

Connor bore Reggie's scrutiny, tilting his chin and allowing the moonlight to bleach his features.

"You do look very pale, are you sure you are feeling up to dining with the family?"

Setting his back squarely against the leather seat, Connor squeezed the handle of his walking cane until the metal creaked in his cold palm. "I could not disappoint your parents. I'm certain it will pass."

"If you're sure," said Reggie as he tapped his cane twice, smartly, on the glass partition.

Harker clucked his tongue, the horses jerked into movement, and they headed out of the city.

The carriage careened steadily along the country lanes, and under Harker's sure guidance the horses remained poised at a fast trot that could not be allowed to erupt into a canter without overturning them into a roadside ditch. The miles were covered quickly, the companionable silence inside the carriage broken only by the hypnotic rhythmic pounding of horses' hooves on the carpet of damp autumn leaves covering the road.

Out of the corner of his eye, Corner caught the flash of the graceful sweep of a charcoal-gray wing high in the night sky as an owl rode the evening thermal currents. Its orange eyes were beacons in the dark to Connor, who instinctively followed the line of sight, heard the rabbit rustling in the undergrowth and tuned into the fast beating heart inside the fragile chest. He frowned as the sound filled his mouth with a citrus fresh flood of saliva and he anticipated the inevitable.

The owl dropped from the sky like a feather-clad stone, and as the rabbit died in the grip of needle sharp talons, the smell of blood hit Connor as a tidal wave of insatiable thirst.

Connor swallowed carefully as hunger dragged a blade through his stomach, and the pulse in Reggie's neck became a pumping tide of thick nectar. He could almost hear the blood cells jostling as they raced each other through the arteries.

Every sinew in his body tightened at the electric current zinging along his nerve endings, and his teeth were on edge as the memory of biting into flesh flashed into his head. No, not a memory...craving. A desire that took his mind into dark places saturated with the copper-tainted taste of blood. Holding his muscles locked tight, and clenching his fists, Connor battled for control, knowing that if he lost it he would plunge into a living hell.

The carriage lurched abruptly, and Reggie cursed as his shoulder collided heavily with the tooled-leather paneling at his side. "Steady on, Harker," hollered Reggie as pain shot down to his fingers.

Connor pretended that his own rock-steady body was struggling for balance, and, like a dropped stone disturbing a tranquil pool, his macabre fascination was broken.

"Sorry, Sir. Hole in the road," yelled Harker above the jangling of the bridles, and the beating of hooves.

To be continued...