The Price of Life

by T. M. Nienaber

  “Am I not?”

  “Not properly.” The doctor made it sound like this was something she should have known. “Just the cotton underskirts though. The woman you’ll be staying with will come in to help you with the rest.”

  “You realize I was nearly killed less than a day ago.”

  “I know.” The doctor gave her a sympathetic smile as he walked back towards the door. Miriel found herself thinking he could probably be charming when he wanted to.“Oh, and try not to get any blood on the clothes.” He winked. Miriel thought that must be highly improper. “I’m William, by the way. Just in case we meet again.”

  “Elle.” Miriel found herself smiling in return.

  William nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Miriel got up to examine the clothes which had been placed out for her on the chair by her bed. The first thing she noticed was that there were a lot of layers, the second that they were tiny, the third that they came with a corset, the fully functional kind. Her newly stitched side sent her a sharp, shooting pain. Trying to push the thought out of her mind Miriel focused on the lightweight, ivory, cotton garments at the bottom of the pile. She wouldn’t go so far as to say they were comfortable but they weren’t uncomfortable.

  Shortly after she had changed there was some commotion in the hallway. Miriel got back in bed, covering herself with the blanket. Somehow that seemed the proper thing to do. Seconds later the doctor came in, followed by an older woman impeccably dressed in iconic Victorian fashion. Well, that was the what taken care of, all that was left to figure out was the why.

  “Elle, this is the woman who’ll be taking care of you, Madame Perkins.” William gestured to the old woman next to him, who gave Miriel the politest smile imaginable.

  “Well, welcome, Miss Elle, it will be just wonderful to have you with me. I haven’t had a new girl in years. Of course we’re bound to get an influx if all the rumors are true.” Madame Perkins had somehow managed to migrate around William and onto the edge of Miriel’s bed.

  “Gossiping already? Well, you women will get along just fine it seems.” William gave a very polite, very fake, laugh before walking out of the room and leaving them alone. Before he closed the door he gave Miriel a wink behind Madame Perkins’s back.

  Miriel pretended to ignore him but it felt good not to be alone.

  “Well now, aren’t you young.” Madame smoothed out her skirts and turned to get a better, more appraising view of Miriel.

  “Twenty-six, not so young anymore.”

  “Well, younger than me then. Just William’s age too. Oh, he’d be such a wonderful match. We can’t have you married until you’ve learned how to behave though. Are you a quick study? Well, you’ll have to be, you don’t really have a choice.”

  “I’m sorry, did I hear you say married? I’m not some kind of mail order bride.”

  “Oh dear.” Madame laughed and touched Miriel’s arm in a gesture that said ‘oh aren’t you just a hoot’. “Every woman who comes here has to be married by thirty or she’s tossed aside as an old maid. Trust me, you’ll find your position here very limited if that’s the case. We wanted to make the age cap twenty-five, but the young ones still love the city too much to come stay with us. You’ll want to get married. From what I’ve heard about you there isn’t much good waiting for you on the outside. Might as well make the best of the second chance we can give you in here.”

  “No. I just wanted to make a fresh start, forget about the other side of the wall.” Miriel decided if she had to stay she might as well take William’s advice and play along, go all in and hope things worked out.

  “Oh, my dear!” Madame Perkins gave her a motherly hug. Apparently Miriel had said exactly what she wanted to hear. “Now, let’s get you dressed and ready to move.”

  Miriel found herself being pulled up by the old woman with a force that surprised her. Whatever was going on in this little commune it seemed the women were capable of pulling their own weight.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re bleeding!” The woman looked at Miriel like she’d done something in the past five minutes to get blood all over the clothes, intentionally, of course.

  “I was stabbed, the wound hasn’t stopped seeping yet.”

  “Oh, how unattractive. Well, come now, hands up, we must get you dressed.”

  Miriel was trying to feel some kind of vibe from this place she was now forced to call home but it had her stumped. It had the potential to be fun, if she could find some undesirable people to have fun with. She could consider it a public service, taking care of all the troublemakers in utopia. But then again, it would be hard to get away with anything somewhere so closely monitored. Her breath flooded out and her mind stopped thinking. It was the first time she’d worn a corset. No point thinking about the future. She would die a slow and painful death by suffocation. Slowly, Miriel discovered she could breathe if she took short, shallow breaths without moving her diaphragm. This might work out well for her side, like a fashionable tourniquet.

  “Try not to make that face, dear. It’s unpleasant.”

  Miriel nodded because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Then she followed Madame Perkins out the door to the street. There was no sign of William anywhere and Miriel was disappointed.

  “So tell me, dear. How much do you know about us?”

  “Nothing would be an understatement.” The sentence came out in short clipped breaths as Miriel tried to get the hang of walking, talking, and breathing in a corset.

  Madame Perkins nodded. “That might be better, you aren’t coming in with ideas of how we should do things. Oh.” Madame Perkins pointed to a building close to the doors of the entrance gate. “See that?” Miriel nodded. “You’ll want to go there a lot at first. It’s our connection with the world outside, television, internet, papers, everything you’d need to know what’s going on. You just can’t send anything out. Or leave yourself. Although you should already have been told that.”

  Miriel nodded again.

  “Well then, there we are, Elle. It’s a short walk isn’t it?” She smiled again and pushed Miriel inside.

  Miriel’s first impression of the house was that it was cramped and cluttered with objects she couldn’t begin to decipher a purpose for. The wallpaper was dizzying and the entryway seemed like it could have led to a dozen different rooms. Somehow, she managed to stay with Madame Perkins all the way to the second floor and into a bedroom. The bedroom didn’t seem nearly as cramped as the first floor and if there was anything Miriel had brought which required unpacking there would have been plenty of space to spread out.

  “You should be comfortable here I think, the closet is full as you obviously didn’t come prepared.” Just a slight hint of disdain.

  “Thank you.” Miriel smiled, not sure what to do next.

  “Why don’t you stay here today? You really aren’t prepared to go out on your own yet and I don’t have time to start your immersion today. I’m hosting a tea,” she said this with as much excitement as it seemed possible for her to show, like this was one of the most exciting things that could ever happen at any given time. It was a depressing revelation when Miriel realized it probably was one of the most exciting things that ever happened.

  “Anyway, dear, you’ll have plenty to keep yourself occupied, there are books on the nightstand there, and I’m sure you’ll want to rest more. And I can bring you some embroidery to work on.”

  “Now what would I normally be doing on a day like today? Once I’ve been sufficiently trained?”

  “Oh, well, this and that. And then there’s tea. Some days we host, some days we go out.”

  “Oh.” A life of absolute and perfect boredom ran before her eyes. She should have let Kristopher kill her. Right now death, even a drawn out and painful one, sounded preferable to this.

  “Well, good day then.” Madame Perkins nodded as she left the room and closed the door, it locked from the outside just like the hospital door. Couldn’t have the new g
uest coming down and ruining afternoon tea. What a life, to be reduced to this.

  Miriel threw herself down on a bed so obscenely large and ornate it would have taken up the entire space of her apartment. She picked up one of the books from the table by the bed, The Art of Presenting Tea. “Dear lord.” Miriel muttered as she threw the book across the room. She was going to go crazy. Maybe if she snapped now she’d be able to kill something. She chuckled to herself, her idea of saintly reformation hadn’t lasted long. Maybe she was just as bad as Lucian. Now, Lucian would know how to make this place fun. He’d probably lived through the real thing, so he’d have an advantage.

  Miriel picked the book up off the floor and flipped through it. Scones. Jams. China. It didn’t hold her interest for long. She sat on the bed and looked around, the only thing to do was sit and wait with baited breath for the return of Madame Perkins with the embroidery. How exciting. There was a window with a ledge wide enough to sit on comfortably so Miriel migrated there for a change of scenery. Maybe she could open it and jump out. Even if she didn’t die she’d be injured enough to be unconscious for a while. Not to mention get some cheap whiskey anesthetic, well, if she was lucky. That might be the only way she’d be able to get anywhere near almost having a drink.

  There were people walking around on the street passing the house, usually in pairs. Miriel decided to make up a game. For every pair that walked by one was a client and one was a hit, the game was to make up why one wanted the other dead. She had just gotten to two girls who were in a feud over whose embroidery would make the better dowry for a man who was actually more interested in prostitutes when she was called away by a knock on the door.

  “Are you decent, Elle?”

  Miriel was very tempted to say no, it was time she tried honesty, but instead got up and opened the door. First, she put the perfect tea book on the window ledge to make it look like she was attempting to do something accomplished.

  “Hello, dear, the doctor’s here. He said he needed to make sure your stitches weren’t getting infected. How distasteful it must be to be a doctor.”

  Miriel thought she saw William roll his eyes when Madame Perkin’s attention was focused elsewhere.

  “Don’t forget to say goodbye before you leave, doctor, we might have a cup of tea for you.”

  “Good tea and good company, how could any bachelor refuse that?” He gave Madame Perkins a charming smile and this time Miriel was the one to roll her eyes.

  “Well,” Madame Perkins blushed. “I’ll let you alone then.”

  “Sit down, Elle.” William double-checked the door to make sure it was locked and that no one was listening at the other side through the keyhole.

  “They aren’t infected.”

  “What aren’t?”

  “The stitches.”

  “Oh, of course not, I just thought you’d be bored by now.”

  “Oh.” Miriel wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “I actually had something to talk to you about.”

  “Yeah?” Miriel sat down on the window ledge to keep him from sitting down next to her.

  He pulled up a chair from a desk hidden in a corner.

  “Elle, I’m afraid to say your reputation precedes you.”

  “And what reputation would that be?” Miriel couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough not to spend her time searching the room for something she could use as a weapon. There was probably a letter opener in the desk she hadn’t noticed, and that would be better than nothing at all.

  “Don’t play dumb. I’d know you anywhere. Not that it was easy to find out what you looked like. But I’m glad I went through the effort. To think, having you just fall into my lap like this. It’s more than fate.”

  “What do you want.” As unpleasant a situation as this was it was starting to feel more like home. At least this was something Miriel knew how to handle.

  “A partner they won’t suspect.”

  “Explain.” Miriel turned her attention to William fully now, it looked like this was going to be a more interesting place than it initially seemed.

  “We have a game, well, just some of the men. You see, there are many darker sides to this moral era that we came here to emulate. We’ve started a murder game.”

  “Really?” Miriel smirked, much more fun.

  “Now, I’m farther behind than I’d like to be in numbers and I admired your work so much in the city. If you kill for me I’ll let you into the game.”

  “And why wouldn’t I just join this game myself. Why do I need you if my work is superior?”

  William let out a low, hallow laugh. “This is a game for founders. Why we started this place to begin with. Sure, we market it as a haven from what’s going on outside the wall, but we just need players.”

  “And which one is Madame Perkins?”

  “She’s just one cyanide laced teacup away from a shallow grave.”

  It wasn’t an answer but Miriel couldn’t help herself, she let out a cackle. It was good to be back in an environment she was used to.

  “So, you agree?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. This will require you to blend in, perfectly. No one but me can know you’re part of the game. You have plenty of experience, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “One question, William. What’s my name?”

  “Elle.” William looked genuinely confused. Eccentric sadist maybe, but he hadn’t done much background work. He knew his new partner only as Elle. That made it alright.

  “We have a deal, sir.” Miriel held out her hand, which William shook, then brought up to his lips, brushing the skin, but still looking steadily into Miriel’s eyes.

  “Yes, we do.”

  Miriel heard William walk down the stairs, greeted immediately by Madame Perkins. She asked about his patient’s health and he muttered some line about having to come back every so often to check on her progress. Madame Perkins hardly bothered to conceal her excitement. Miriel felt like part of the game already.

  The main door closed and almost instantly Madame rushed into the room. “It looks like the doctor is going to become a frequent visitor. You’ve made a wonderful impression on him. Come on, you can’t stay in here all day, we have to show you how to serve tea.”

  “I thought I got the day off?”

  “Oh well.” Madame looked a bit sheepish. “There’s this kind of game the older women play, who can get their ward married off the fastest and to the best possible match. If the doctor stays this interested you’re well in the lead. Can’t waste time now. I’ve been in last place for so long this is my chance.”

  “I understand.” Miriel smiled and Madame Perkins beamed as she led her down the stairs to the proper parlor for serving tea.

  So many intrigues, so many games, and soon to be so much blood. It was good to be Elle again, she’d needed this.

  10. Lucian and Kristopher

  “It’s filthy.”

  “It gives the right kind of impression.”

  “And what is that? We can’t afford a maid? Or in this case heavy duty renovation and an interior designer?”

  “Lucian, please. It’s my job to make you look like you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do know what I’m doing, Kristopher. But if you don’t believe me, I’ll be more than happy to kill you again.”

  “Lucian.” Kristopher turned to lock eyes with his tentative business partner. “I know you’re upset Miriel isn’t here with you but she’s obviously not the person you thought she was. She tried to kill your men just because the two of you got into a petty argument. Not very professional. Actions like that aren’t mentally sound. All that killing has made her unstable. A liability.”

  “If you’ll remember, Kristopher, she succeeded in killing almost everyone there. You, I’m sure, only got away by using my men as human shields. Not very professional for someone who has just bargained his way into immortality. I’d rethink that argument. It doesn’t do much for your ego.”


  Kristopher turned away and glared at the floor which, as Lucian noted, was in serious need of refinishing. If this partnership wasn’t so vital to his plans or so beneficial to him, he would have gotten rid of Lucian before they’d even started. “As you can clearly see, this place looks like a tribute to Edgar Allen Poe, it has all the gothic elements people will expect to see in an organization like yours and it has that hint of mystery and murder required for you to be a convincing cult leader.”

  “Yes, yes, I agree! I can hear the hearts beating under the floorboards and B-horror movie directors pounding on the door, cameras in hand.”

  “Lucian, please!” Kristopher barked. It was the first time he’d ever shown his frustrations with Lucian to Lucian without some sort of clever cover up coming to his mind immediately afterwards. It sounded like he was reprimanding a child. His eyes got wide and he froze in place.

  Lucian chuckled and kept walking.

  As much as it annoyed Kristopher to be treated like he wasn’t a threat, it was a good place to be. Lucian could look down on him all he wanted. It would give him the opportunity to fix things in his favor. Then Lucian would never be able to hold things over him again. For now all he had to do was play the idiot politician long enough to get Lucian off his guard. “Lucian, we have to play the game the way people expect us to play it. Politics, at least our kind of politics, are all about appearances. You have to look demonic and dangerous enough that the zealots won’t want to hear you but will be too scared to say anything against you in public. You also have to look professional enough people will believe you’re part of something real and organized. You can’t show up in a t-shirt with a few folding chairs and candles and expect people to take you seriously. You want to make this look elite, not like just anyone off the street can do it.”

  “I agree with that at least,” Lucian muttered. “Not everyone is worthy of doing what we do.” He walked over to a door on the other side of the entryway. It looked like part of the wall and it had taken Kristopher’s men about a week to realize it was there, and even after they found it they couldn’t open it, for some reason none of the keys they were given seemed to fit the lock.