Chapter Forty - Hopeless

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Her hands began to tremble as she read the words over and over, her heart spliced in two. When she had memorised the note she folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket, where it rubbed against the phial of bloody sewage.

She crept up the stairs, her movements light and soundless as she took the servants' staircase up to the first floor.

She froze on hearing someone move about below her on the stairs, Mrs. Landon's voice echoing through the corridors, telling one of the servants to finish clearing the crystal from the dining room before going to bed. Clearly Hector had come home in time for a nightcap before retiring to his bedroom.

Selene's concentration flickered and uncertainty slipped into the dark flashes. She bit her lip, wondering if she was crazy.

But she had to see him, she had to speak to him. Something propelled her onwards; something stronger than her own will power, which buckled before it.

Her legs felt leaden and she dragged them into the corridor, but on seeing the door to his room she felt her sense of purpose renewed and she sped up, running over the red carpet. She crouched before the door and listened, and on hearing nothing untoward she turned the handle and slipped inside, closing it gently behind her.

The room was dark and Hector's scent filled every corner, an assault on her nostrils. She felt dizzy with desire as it penetrated her lungs and flooded into her bloodstream.

Her eyes took a moment to acclimatise after the bright lights of the corridor outside, but when they did she realised the bed was empty and she began to panic. A slick of sweat threatened to break through her carefully applied sewage-skin.

"What do you want?"

Selene started at the sound of his voice, turning from the bed to work out where the noise had come from. Relief and fear clasped hands and surrounded her as she looked toward the window, where he sat in a broad leather arm chair, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles.

He reached out and struck a match, lighting a cigarette that dangled from his lip, his eyes never leaving hers.

She took a step towards him, raising the gun so that it pointed directly where his heart should be.

"Are you here to kill me?" He asked, moving nothing but the cigarette and the hand that held it, as he blew the smoke out into an opaque cloud. "You're filthy," he said, looking her up and down.

Selene moved her finger over the trigger, feeling its smooth curve under her fingertip.

He dragged on the cigarette again, slowly, its tip glowing in the dim light and let his wrist hang limply, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

"I knew you were there, Selene. In Central Control today. I was sure of it." He cocked his head to the side and looked at her, a gentle frown across his brow. "I could smell your tears."

Selene caressed the trigger beneath her finger, unable to take her eyes from his face.

"What made you cry, Selene?"

She thought she heard laughter beneath the thin film of his words, and it infuriated her.

"Why didn't you take Diana when she offered herself?" She shook the gun and the strap jangled against the bullets she wore.

"Touché, Selene. Touché."

"How can you be so flippant?"

"What else is there to do Selene? You're pointing a gun at my chest, no doubt loaded with wooden bullets with silver cores. The woman I love wants to shoot me." He dragged again on his cigarette and flicked the ash into an ashtray on a table nearby.

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