Face Of The Monster

~15~

She awoke with Gabriel beside her, his face warm and scratchy against hers. For a second, she didn't know what had happened. Then she remembered.

"Gabey," she whispered, shaking him. The porthole showed a slash of night, the dark silence telling her she ought to stay asleep. "Gabriel. Wake up."

He gave a sleepy grunt, eyes cracking open. "Go back to sleep," he groaned.

"Gabe, what happened?"

"Mhm, I'm so tired . . ."

Lillian took his head in her hands, forbidding him to slip back into the warm cocoon of sleep. Her heart began beating faster, begging for answers. "All I remember is that man kissing me," she said, "Then everything went dark. Did I pass out? Did they do something to me?" She recalled the man's slimy tongue on her stomach and breasts, his greedy hands clutching at her skin. She didn't think she could stand to know it had happened again.

Gabe rubbed his hand over her back soothingly, whispering, "You hit your head, dear. That's all. I'd say you're even lucky that you missed the rest of it." His eyelids drifted shut, only fluttering a bit when Lillian tried to shake him back into wakefulness. He moaned with pleasure when she kissed him and touched him, but didn't open his eyes. She tried to talk to him, but he wasn't there.

Finally, not tired anymore, Lillian slipped out of bed and went to find the day's clothes. Someone had changed her into a soft but old nightgown that she seldom wore anymore. Her other clothes were folded neatly on the dresser. Patting them down, Lillian found a little hill in her pocket. She unfolded the shirt and coaxed the coin out of the breast pocket.

She figured she ought to find a private place, so as not to bother Gabriel. She thought about going above deck, but someone was bound to be up there keeping watch. Instead, she stole away to the dining room, empty and quiet at this hour. The swabbies had already swept clean from dinner.

Lillian sat down at the table farthest from the door. She set the coin down on the table and looked at it for a minute. Yet again, Agatha did not appear. Lillian sighed. "Agatha?" she whispered. "Are you there? I need to talk with you, please. Please." Nothing happened. "What do you want from me? Some sort of offering? Tell me!"

Lillian felt horribly, irreconcilably alone in that moment. Moonlight shone through the porthole, the moon singular and solitary in the sky. "Please," she repeated. Tears began to stream down her face, dripping under her collar.

Then, she saw that same glimmer she had the other morning. Trying to contain her excitement, Lillian swiped her tears away and stood in wait.

The woman appeared, one layer at a time. Her delicate feet first, then her long legs and her graceful arms. Her face came last, pensive and tight with concern. She appeared in front of Lillian, standing with her arms behind her like a guilty child.

"Agatha!" Lillian cried. "How wonderful to see you again."

A little smile brightened her face. "Hello."

"I've been looking for you," said Lillian. "I tried to get you to appear, but you never did. I couldn't figure out why."

Agatha sighed deeply, She took a seat on the bench beside the table, her back to Lillian. Her hair was long and wavy, raven black, plaited delicately to the side. "I'm afraid I've been awfully tired in the past days. I am sorry for not answering your calls, Darling."

Lillian took a seat beside her. She couldn't figure out what exactly made the glowing woman so magnetic, but she couldn't take her eyes off of her. "Oh, don't be sorry," she says. "It isn't your fault. I was being greedy." But she had formulated other questions by now. What was Agatha? Not human, surely? But not a god, either. Something enigmatic, something quietly powerful, but also something capable of pain. "May I ask you a question?"

She watched the profile of Agatha's face lift, her smooth jaw square and shimmering in the moonlight. "I suppose."

"Where do you come from, Agatha? When you go away, where is it that you go?"

Agatha looked wistful. She stared at the ceiling, an inexplicable smile settling on her lips. "Oh, you wouldn't want to know, Dear," she said. "It isn't something you ought to be worried over."

"Why?" Lillian furrowed her eyebrows. She reached for Agatha's fragile body, feeling the warmth of her neck and chest and stomach. How could Agatha be anything but human in her eggshell skin of bitterness? "Is it awful?"

She didn't answer the question. "You are a very sweet girl, Lillian," she said. "Others summon me, demanding answers. But you are a comfort, Dear. A light in the dark waters."

Lillian's heart palpitated with pleasure at these words. It was a comfort to know that Agatha would be, if she could be, back. "I feel exactly the same," she said, taking Agatha's long fingers in hers. She kissed the apparition, first on the tips of her fingers, then her palm and her knuckles. Agatha's eyes slid closed. "I feel exactly the same."