The Necronomicon

Chapter Forty Three

"I thought I heard Meredith's voice; but there seems to be no-one but you here." Frederick said, looking at Alfred with scrutiny deep in his eyes.

"Yes, it's just me." Alfred responded, smiling slightly. "I'm sure you just imagined her voice. I've heard it's a side effect of grief — and I've been hearing Pippa's voice too. It's been..." His lower lip trembled. "Sort of haunting, actually."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I took your hut for the night, would you? You can take Meredith's old one. I'll take you to it now."

Alfred tried not to let the fear he felt betray him and appear on his face. As long as Meredith didn't visit, it would all be fine. "Sure, Frederick. Of course."

Alfred couldn't stop replaying the interaction in his head. He prayed Meredith wouldn't come, wouldn't try and visit him. She needed to keep away, to protect herself from Frederick. He would... he would kill her; his mind kept replaying images of Frederick snapping Meredith's neck in two, or stabbing her in her thigh. He sighed softly, images of Pippa popping up in his brain. She was alive.

Right now, she must be taking in another gulp of breath, inhaling air into her lungs. He missed her with all of him. Her smile, her laugh, the tendrils of hair slipping from her bun. Even her serious face — her tight lips, eyes that could bore into yours as if seeing your true beauty. She was so perfect — yet she didn't know it.

She was his world. If she died... he couldn't let her go. He needed her.

Alfred looked at the wooden walls surrounding him, hoping against hope that Meredith hadn't returned.

Meredith screamed, loudly. "Now, don't make this any worse for yourself." Frederick spat, his spittle landing on the corner of her mouth as he spoke.

Instinctively she brought Pippa ever closer to her chest, as if she was Meredith's baby. Frederick leaned down, his arm stretching for her — he grabbed her hair tightly in his fist. She yelped audibly — and he brought another hand against her mouth, silencing her. She bit down on his fingers with as much strength as she could muster, but he just pulled his hand down further against her, so hard her neck nearly broke. She couldn't screech from the intense pain — it hurt so much she couldn't react. Meredith's arms shook rigidly, and Pippa tumbled from them, onto the ground, gasping. Frederick's hands tightened around Meredith's neck. "I could kill you right now," He hissed. "But I need you alive."

He pulled her upwards slightly, just by her neck, and the pain was unbearable. Laughing, he let go of her and she toppled to the floor. "Weak," He declared, and Meredith whimpered, reaching for Pippa, trying to edge away. "You can't escape me, Meredith. You can try. But I'll always outwit you."

Pippa crawled towards Meredith, her bones brittle. Every step she took brought her a moment closer to dying, but she neared Meredith as best she could. Frederick didn't see what she was going to do until it was too late for him — Pippa pushed Meredith out of Frederick's reach. For now, at least; unless he pushed himself into the tunnel.

Even hesitating for a second can sometimes be a moment too long. This was the case for Frederick — for in one simple second, three catastrophic things occurred.

First, Meredith stood, her neck aching. At the same time, Frederick and Pippa made eye contact, and Frederick hesitated — he didn't attack. Finally, as these two things happened, the door to Alfred's hut opened and someone began to enter.

If he had attacked Pippa then and there, and killed her, then Alfred, who had just entered, would have been distraught. Frederick would then have been able to manipulate Meredith — or murder her.

But he hadn't attacked her.

Weakness. That's what Frederick called it. He had affection for Pippa: she'd been Anastasia's best friend and was to be her bridesmaid. And Anastasia had always been so lonely... Pippa was a good friend to her.

From behind Frederick, Alfred gasped — and Frederick made another momentous decision: he turned around. Alfred punched him right on the jaw; yet it did not knock Frederick out, just dazed him.

Meredith, on her feet now, grabbed Pippa and rolled her out the way before stepping over her and into the action. Frederick looked between the two, Alfred and Meredith, and bile began to rise from his stomach. Alfred looked so quiet, so relaxed, despite having just punched him — and Meredith looked so vivacious, so fiery. Her hair hung around her face like an aura — Frederick stared at her.

Alfred hit him again. It was a pounding blow, a slap right to his cheek. Frederick staggered to the side, then plunged into full blown punches at Alfred.

Meredith turned around, hobbling very slightly, and grabbed Frederick by the tips of his hair. Her hold wasn't powerful, but she tightened her grip — he cried out, and slashed at her legs with his hands. He got close — but he missed, and Alfred had time to hit Frederick again.

Frederick fell to the floor, his hair slipping from Meredith's fingers. He pulled himself up onto his forearms swiftly, not losing any time — and moved towards what he saw as the weak link. Alfred caught his movements, and dived in front of him —

Frederick squeezed Pippa's arm vindictively. She squealed — bruises already forming on the places his fingertips were pressing into her. Alfred managed to break the contact, his entire arm slamming into the floor, immense, intense pain shooting up it.

Meredith, wobbling on her unsteady feet, edged closer to them. She could feel it welling up within her — the need to fight. Frederick — her unkempt emotions, sprawling everywhere — she inhaled air as swiftly as she could, letting it in. He had killed too many. He had broken her heart. He had tried to kill her.

He had done enough.

Meredith stalked towards him, her arms outstretched, and with a cold, calm, controlled force, she smacked Frederick across the face. He tumbled, gasping, and Meredith pushed Pippa to the side and scooped her up. "Alfred —" She said, desperation making her voice thick, and he nodded to her.

Alfred aimed a hefty kick at Frederick, scarring his knee — and Meredith bounded out the door. Adrenaline sped up her movements as she raced away, Alfred close behind. He soon caught up — and they ran into a patch of dark bushes. "Pippa, Meredith," He breathed.

"Have you got The Necronomicon?" Pippa asked, her eyes on Alfred but directing her words to Meredith.

"It's with Olivia," Meredith replied. Alfred let out a loose breath — dejection clouding his face.

"We need to get some food and water into Pippa, and get The Necronomicon. I suggest that we stay in a spare hut for now."

Meredith sighed. "Alfred, I know what we need to do. We need to get Olivia, and split into twos. Or I can just go alone — but I suspect you won't like that idea, especially as I'll be travelling with The Necronomicon. Pippa will stay here, in a spare hut, with someone. And I will go to Eleanor, and possibly find The Elders and return The Necronomicon to them."

Alfred gazed at Pippa, knowing he had to leave her side once more. But not for long. He told himself, sighing. Not for long. "I'll go with you," Alfred responded, like Meredith had known he would. "Olivia can help Pippa; she's with us, and can maintain her high profile and good name with Frederick while keeping Pippa alive and well."

The complete and utter darkness of the sky against Alfred's profile made Meredith nod. They had escaped Frederick, for now... may as well keep going while they still could.

Meredith looked at the twinkling stars — the same hopeful stars that glistened in her eyes. It was all going to be okay.

It had to be.