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The weather was growing cooler and the popular beach town would soon shrink in size. All that would be left at Margate would be the patients of the healing bathhouses and those rich enough to own real estate. Alfie Solomon was both. 

Edna shrunk from the wind as she carried her basket of goods back from the market. The air was getting crisp, and soon she would need to prepare a small fire in Mr. Solomon's room before dusk to keep the chill out. 

Edna was a newer resident of the Solomon house, hired as a maid and general help after his senior maid left that summer to spend her last years with her adult children. 

“Big shoes to fill, little one,” he growled as he held her chin up to force her to look at his marred face and milky eye, “but you come heavily praised and your eyes are sharp. You'll do fine.”

He let her chin go with a little shove, and the other house servants circled her to take her to the kitchen. 

“He isn't as bad as he seems, love,” an older maid said as she patted Edna's shaking hand. “You'll not receive a single wayward glance, or worry of a shadow in your doorway. The man wants solitude and comfort. As long as you take care of his things and sweet Cyril, he'll not look at you twice.”

And so it was. Edna found it peaceful to be at the Solomon house and, as long as she did her job, she was left alone to do as she pleased. Her wages gave her money to spend on an occasional book or dress, and she felt comfortable in her small room off the kitchen. 

When the temperate weather took a turn and night came faster, she found herself walking the beaches at dusk. She enjoyed the bite of the air as the sun kissed the horizon. The view of the ocean was a sight, and best of all, she was alone. All there was to hear was her own breath and passing birds. She hugged her arms as the wind picked up and she shuffled back to Solomon Manor. 

“Take your walks a bit earlier next time,” the cook huffed as she shoved the platter with Alfie's dinner into Edna's hands. “He's got to be ravenous by now.”

“If he's here at all,” Edna said. “He's due to be missing soon.”

The cook scoffed. 

“So you say,” she huffed. “I know no other servant that has Mr. Solomon's whereabouts so well tracked.”

“Every few weeks,” Edna insisted. “He disappears for days and comes back as if nothing happened. Not a tray touched. Not a shadow or a word.”

“Just take his dinner, girl.”

Edna carried the warm food to the sitting room. Seeing it was empty, she made her way to the library, and then to his bed chambers. She knocked, half expecting no reply. 

“Come in,” a gruff voice called. 

Edna brought the tray into his chambers, but froze when she realized the big man lay in his bed in the dim light of the room. 

“I'm sorry sir,” Edna stammered, backing up into the doorway, “I was told to bring your dinner.”

“And so you did, girl, so you did,” he said as he moved to sit up. “Please, set it on the table by my chair. No need to apologize.”

Alfie rose from his bed, his button up shirt and pants wrinkled. He chuckled at the confused look on her face. 

“I needed a rest after my treatment, is all,” he said, stepping around her to the chair. “The weather has me out of sorts.”

“Of course, sir,” she said as she quickly closed her mouth and stepped toward the table to set the tray down. “My apologies. Let me start your fire.”

She yelped as her foot hit a sleeping Cyril, half hidden beside the fireplace. A deep growl came from the dark corner as he lifted his head, his ears pinned back. Edna's hair raised on her neck and she trembled as the dog rose. A large hand roughly grabbed her arm as she jolted. 

“Don't,” Alfie growled. “Beasts have instinct to chase. Don't. Run.”

Edna stood very still as Cyril growled, smelling her legs, and then her limp hand. His cold nose filled her palm before a gentle lick broke the tension.

“Thattaboy, Cyril,” Alfie murmured as he let go of her arm. “She meant no harm, eh? What is a big lug like you hiding in the fireplace for, anyway, eh?”

Edna sharply exhaled as she moved to grab the wood and kneel to start the fire, her heart racing.

“Beasts sense fear,” Alfie said as he patted the dog on the head. “Running is what prey does, girl. Running can get you killed.”

“I'm not a girl,” Edna huffed. “I'm more than 30.”

“Maybe, but I'm more than 40, girl,” Alfie said, amusement breaking through the grit of his voice. “Which makes me right old in comparison. Me and old man Cyril are both ancient. Old cranky bastards, aren't we?”

“How old is Cyril?” She huffed between blows to start the tender. It glowed and caught flame.

“What are you now, old man?” Alfie asked the dog as he scratched his chin. Cyril chuffed in response. “Nearly 70, I'd say. A right cranky old man when he doesn't nap. Just a pair of old dogs.”

“A dog can't be 70,” she said incredulously as she leaned back from the fire taking hold. “They rarely live a decade.”

“Ah, but dog years are different,” Alfie tutted. “They say it's seven years to our one. It's how they deal with our incompetence and inadequacy.”

She placed another log on the fire, and Alfie turned a small lamp on, illuminating the side of his face that was disfigured, shadowing the other.

“Edna, right?” Alfie asked as he folded his hands in his lap. “Do you know the origins of your name, Edna? It's Hebrew. Means delight. Rejuvenation. A bright little thing in darkness, like the moon I suppose, pushing and pulling those around them. Do you push and pull on purpose, or by nature?”

The pause between them was palpable. She hesitated to speak.

“Right,” Alfie cleared his throat before turning to his tray, “thank you for dinner, Edna. You may go about your evening without hearing an old man ramble.”

“Thank you, Mr. Solomon,” she said, confused, as she turned toward the door.

“Alfie, love,” he said as he waved her off. “You call me Alfie, and I'll stop calling you girl. We'll be respectable-like.”

“If you need anything else, ring, Alfie,” Edna said, biting her lip.

“Will do, little light,” he chuckled as she left the room. 

Edna didn't see Alfie for days after that. The house staff continued as if Alfie was around every corner, business as usual. Edna would leave his dinner trays in his room and come back hours later to the untouched tray. Cyril sulked around the Manor, fed but uneasy. Edna would murmur and pat his head in her passing. Occasionally, he would push past her when she would leave for her walks, and she started to notice the mastiff following her at a distance in the twilight.

That evening, Edna decided to take her walk along the beach a little later than normal. The moon was bright and illuminated her path as she let her mind get lost in her thoughts and the calm churn of the sea. 

Edna wasn't as young or innocent as the Solomon Manor believed. She was 33 and had lost her husband to the war. It wasn't a particularly loving marriage - she had been little more than a child - but it had been more peaceful than her childhood. Once she realized she was a widow, she began looking for work that would take her from London. 

She needed a fresh start, a place without snow and temptations (or the temptation of snow). 

She had been fast and vibrant but quick to burn out. She needed a life without long nights or dangerous men. A place that let her melt into the background of a normal life.

She knew Solomon's history. She knew he had been a bad man, but he was known to be a great employer. 

“Do your job and he will be the best employer you've ever had,” one of the maids told her in hushed tones the first night. 

Not a woman alive had a hushed story to tell about him, which was rare. No rumors of him loving men, or worse, children. There were stories that said he had been explosive as a younger man, brash and fast to react, but only to those that deserved it. Only those that could not live up to their promises.

Since his so-called resurrection, the man had been slower, more cautious. Calculated, but also tired. His movements were laborious. The world had ground him down.

Edna could empathize. She liked to talk to him. Short conversations as she tidied his room or provided afternoon tea. He might have moved slow, but his mind was sharp and playful. He would verbally spar with her, his jabs soft but precise. She felt at ease in his presence. He seemed to equally enjoy her quips.

Edna was removed from her thoughts when she heard a huffing sound getting closer. She turned on the beach to see large dark figures dancing along the sand. The two were wrestling, bouncing around each other. One surely sounded like Cyril, the massive dog chuffing as it ran square into the other beast, trying to push it in a different direction.

The opposing beast was giant, a head taller than Cyril still. Cyril nipped and growled at it as it took off toward Edna. They both collided and rolled along the sand, knocking her over. 

Edna lost her breath and came face to face with a giant black dog. The fur was shaggy and matted. It was massive, with longer hair than Cyril and a more pointed nose. It bared its teeth as it looked down at her, and she raised her arms to protect her face as she shook with fear. 

Cyril ran into the black beast again, giving Edna time to rise to her feet, but a voice echoed in her head when she lurched to run. 

Don't. Run. 

Beasts have instinct to chase. Don't. Run. 

Edna stood very still as the dogs nipped at each other and brought their attention back to her. Cyril opened his mouth, tongue lagging to the side as he let out a soft ooph noise at her, his butt wagging with his tail.

The black dog kept a close eye on her, uncertain but also curious.

“Who's your friend, Cyril?” She tried to ask with a light, even tone, but her voice cracked at the edges. “Do you boys want pets?”

She slowly raised her hand and Cyril immediately placed his ear into her hand, nearly knocking her over as his body pushed into her. 

“Would you boys like treats from the kitchen?” She said, knowing Cyril would perk up at the offer. “Would you like treats for keeping me safe on the way home?”

Cyril made another oomph noise and she hesitantly started her walk back to the Solomon Manor. Cyril walked beside her, gently bumping into her and making her steps not in line. She dared to glance over her shoulder to see the pitch black shadow of the other dog behind her. She cleared her throat and tried not to shake. 

“Would you boys like Alfie's dinner?” She asked. “I'm sure he'll be gone another day or so. I believe Cookie made a roast tonight. Delicious little treat for growing boys.”

She tried to walk at a steady pace. Don't. Run. The words echoed in her mind all the way home. 

She opened the door to the kitchen and the dogs pushed past her as she heard the cook scrubbing a pot in the sink. 

“Edna?” The cook yelled exasperated as she scrubbed. “Mr. Solomon's dinner is at the -”

A scream. 

Edna quickly made it into the kitchen proper to see Cookie plastered against the sink in fear. She looked up from the dogs to Edna in alarm. 

“Why in the hell would you let a wolf in the house?” She yelped. “Stupid girl!”

The giant dog let out a low growl before Cyril pushed him away from the cook. 

“Wolf?” Edna said, puzzled. “Cyril brought him to me at the beach. It's just a dog he's playing with.” 

“That's no dog,” Cookie said solemnly, inching away toward the hall. “Leave the door open and pray it goes out.”

Edna watched the cook flee. 

“You're just a big dog, aren't you?” She asked, voice shaking as she took Alfie's plate and threw roast pieces toward Cyril and the other dog. 

The dog caught the meat in mid air as Cyril waited until it hit the floor. The entire plate was gone in seconds. 

The black dog pushed past Edna as it went toward the door, allowing her to run her hand along its strong back. It flinched as she pushed her fingers into its fur, but it didn't stop until it was out of the house. 

“I think it's a good time to call it a night, don't you?” Edna whispered to Cyril, who only responded with a smile, tongue lolling out of his mouth. She closed the door. 

Her night was filled with turbulent sleep. She tossed and turned, a sheen of sweat across her body no matter how many covers or clothes she pulled off. Near morning, she finally fell into a comfortable sleep, heavy and warm in her bed. 

She could hear scratching, both near yet far away, at her door. Her half lidded eyes caught a glimpse of a nose peeking from the crack at the bottom. A new sweat broke from her brow as she fought to move from laying on her back, but she felt frozen in place and the fog in her brain would not clear. A low growl came from the foot of her bed as golden eyes came into view in the pitch black. The blankets fell to the floor. Hot, calloused hands traveled up her legs and gripped her thighs as a silent scream echoed in her head. Fear. Pleasure. 

Edna woke up with the sun and decided to start tidying Alfie's room before his return. She knew it would be soon. He was only ever gone 2-3 days. If she could change his bedding and give the room some air, it might do him some good, and keeping busy might keep the dream from repeating in her head. The bright eyes. The rough hands. 

Edna got dressed and made her way up the stairs, the house quiet with the still of morning. She could see the dust in the rays of the sun coming through the windows. Some crisp air would do them all good. 

Edna hummed to herself quietly as she made her way through the home and into Alfie's room, no hesitation as she crossed the threshold. She made her way to the windowsill and opened the curtains and the windows, letting the cold breeze fill the room as she went back into the hallway to collect new sheets in the linen closet. She returned and promptly pulled the bedding, huffing as she wadded it on the floor and strained to fit the fresh sheets on the bed. 

She went to the bathroom to replace the old towels when she screamed. 

Alfie was in the bath, arms caked in mud on each side of the tub, water so dirty she could not see his body. He jumped, startled awake as his head dipped under the water and back up with a sputter.

“Woman,” he gasped, more annoyed than mad, “that's no way to wake a tired man.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Edna stuttered. “I didn't expect you home. I came to clean and – oh God – “ she whipped around as Alfie tried to stand, she heard the water slosh behind her.

“Grab a towel, yeah?” Alfie said as his wet foot slapped on the tile. “Doctors thought a mud treatment would help. Starting to think they make things up just to see what people will do.”

Edna hesitated before grabbing a towel and holding it up, not wanting to look behind her. 

“Sir?”

“Old man mutters,” he said as she felt the towel yank from her fingers. “Do me a favor and grab an arm. My cane is near the seat at the fire and the weather's been making my limp worse.”

Edna hesitated. 

“I'm covered, woman,” Alfie huffed. “I've never seduced a maid before and I'm not starting on a morning I'm covered in mud.”

Edna smiled, relaxing as she went to turn to him. The towel wrapped around his waist, keeping him covered as she noticed his strong chest. He watched her looking at him for a moment before his foot slipped. He grabbed the tub before he fell.

“Sir?” She asked as she grabbed his forearm.

“Are you alright?”

“Silver?” Alfie winced at her touch as she guided him out of the bathroom to the chair. “Family heirloom?”

“Just a pretty ring from the market,” Edna said. “I've no heirlooms, or family, that matter.”

“You'll not wear silver in my house,” Alfie muttered as he snapped out of her grip to grab her wrist. “Silver is for witches and travelers. In Solomon Manor, you'll wear gold.”

“I don't own gold, sir,” Edna said, her eyes cast down, “save for my old wedding band. Feels in bad taste to wear it after the war.”

Alfie's eyes softened and he gently pulled her to kneel in front of him, eye to eye. 

“I didn't ask if you owned any, little light,” Alfie said, squinting at her fingers as he wiggled them between his rough hands. “I think I have a size that will fit for the moment until I can replace your old ring.”

Alfie slipped her decorated silver ring off into his hand with a wince before slipping the gold band off his pinky. 

He dropped the silver ring onto his side table with a scowl, patting her hand before letting it go.

“I can't possibly accept this,” Edna started. 

“It's my rule, I'll replace the abomination if I like,” he huffed. “It's not a debt, it's a gift to a damn good housemaid that takes care of poor Cyril while I'm away. Accept it from a couple of old men. I've been told he ate my roast last night.”

“Cyril told you, aye?” Edna said, a grin forming. “What else has he said?”

“That you scared the lights out of the cook bringing his friend home,” Alfie said. “A scream I swear I heard all the way to London.”

“I thought you were getting treatment, Mr. Solomons?” Edna cocked her head and went to his drawers to get him clothes. “Was it the treatment or London you were at, then?”

Alfie stayed quiet as she rummaged through his clothes and brought a set to him. 

“The thing about you, Little Light,” Alfie growled, more to himself than to her. “Is that you're a delight to talk to, yeah, but you're too fucking smart. No one else in this house would dare ask me such a question.”

“No one else in this house would have walked you half naked to your chair, either, sir.” Edna smirked. “The men wouldn't, let alone a woman. I'll be the talk of the staff as soon as one walks by. But you wouldn't mind that, would you?”

“My reputation is solid,” Alfie raised his chin. “I've never forced anyone to do anything. Might have made a few men bleed from time to time, but” Alfie shrugged, letting the sentence hang. 

“Have we been flirting, Mr. Solomons, and I didn't realize it?”

“Do you want to flirt with an old dog?” Alfie growled. “I took you for wanting to be left alone. This job was a place to run, right? Away from debts and snow and nights of debauchery. Your old life lost its glitter and you ran to stability, eh?”

“What do you know of my old life?” Edna asked, hair rising on her neck. 

“Everything, pet,” Alfie said softly. “No one walks in this house without a full report. Every fucking skeleton dragged out. Had to be sure your involvement with the Shelby's only ran as far as snow.”

Edna paled. 

“I wanted a different life than my old one,” she said gravely. 

“And you'll have it,” Alfie shrugged. “I've no thought to change that.”

“This feels–”

“I'm not threatening you, pet,” Alfie chuckled, hands raised. “Your job is your own until you fuck it up. The ring is yours as long as you want it. I know women. You're in charge of you.”

Edna gathered herself and took a deep breath before handing Alfie his clothes. 

“These are yours, sir,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Alfie kept his distance from Edna for a few days. He thanked her for his meals and nodded her away, but otherwise left her free. Cyril continued to seek her, wanting to be loved or to sit beside her as she did her duties. Edna's icy demeanor soon melted and her banter with Alfie resumed, giving the man not quite a smile, but a tilt of his mouth at the least. 

Edna found a gold ring, an exact replica of her silver one, on the only clean corner of his desk one day as she brought Alfie his dinner. The man sat with glasses on, elbow deep in papers. 

“Dinner, sir,” Edna said, holding the serving platter for a free space that never came. 

“Alfie,” she said again, watching the man not react as he continued to read. She sat his food directly onto his stack of papers. 

“Dammit, girl!” He grumbled as he sat back in his seat. 

“Eat!” She huffed. “Then get back to your nonsense.”

“That nonsense keeps this house running,” he growled before picking up a fork and taking a bite. 

“Whatever illegal business can wait until your belly is full,” she snipped back. “Eat before I give it to Cyril instead.” 

Cyril looked up with his head cocked to the side and a boof from his spot under the desk. Alfie sighed.

“Illegal businesses have much less paperwork, little light,” he said exasperated. “This, unfortunately, is entirely legal, regulated, and taxed.”

Alfie patted Cyrils's head before he took a bite of his food. 

“You wouldn't eat my meal, would you?” Alfie asked Cyril, earning a sneeze from the dog. He rolled his eyes before throwing a piece of meat on the ground. 

“In a heartbeat,” Edna laughed. “You should have seen the roast.”

Cyril came to sit at her feet, earning Alfie's scowl. 

“Who's side are you on?” He grumbled to the dog as he ate. 

When Alfie looked up from his plate again, Edna had already left. The ring on the edge of the desk was gone. He smiled. 

Edna's walks along the beach started to get shorter and shorter as the days got colder. The crisp evenings turned damp and cold, so her walks were replaced by books by the fire with Cyril. The big lug liked to lay at her feet while she read in Alfie's study when it was open in the evenings. She bought a few books at the market, but soon found herself reading the books along the walls. 

Alfie had history and business books, mostly. Books about local laws and how to get businesses to run smoothly. Edna found paperwork about a pub he ran, a bakery, and a charity foundation for blind children. She pieced his work together, bit by bit, until she could see the bigger picture of the Soloman empire. 

On the evening that Edna theorized would be his last before his monthly trip, she brought his dinner tray to his bedroom, but this time she had questions for her employer. 

“Dinner, boss,” Edna said as she brought his tray to the side table beside his lounging chair. 

Alfie raised an eyebrow before he looked up from the binoculars that he used to look out the window to the sea. 

“Boss, eh?” He said as he appraised her. “What did I do to warrant that title today?”

“I've been reading,” Edna said as she shifted in front of him, unsure of how to get to her point. 

“In my study after your duties,” Alfie nodded. “With Cyril, no doubt. He's been watching you instead of warming me at night.”

Edna's ears pinked.

“Yes, well, your businesses,” she started. “They all connect, do they not?”

Alfie nodded, taking a piece of bread and buttering it as he waited for her to go on. 

“They're all in a different name than yours.” She said. 

“Well, Edna,” he said, pointing the knife at her, “see, not much fun, is it, eh? Well, Edna, a dead man can't own legal businesses, can he? And Tommy Shelby, my good friend, shot me in the fucking face and took my dog for some time, so to have it in my name would be right silly of me to do, now wouldn't it?”

Edna watched Alfie, looking at his damaged eye and the lines of worry that aged his face and made him look perpetually tired. She didn't know what he looked like before, but she couldn't imagine a man with such quick wit was always this broken.

“But you're not dead.”

“Coppers don't know that, do they?” He sighed as he bit into the bread. “Ollie's a good boy with a good name. Better he stay the face of everything to leave old, mean dogs dead.”

“So how do you visit London so often if you're dead?” She asked. “You leave, like clockwork, every month. No one acts like you're gone. They refuse to mention it. Where do you go?”

Alfie stilled as he looked up at Edna. His warm brown eye went cold to match his damaged one. Goosebumps rose across her arms. The same fear rose in her chest as the day Cyril growled at her. He watched her with the intensity of a predator.

“Right,” Alfie said slowly. “You, little light, are a smart woman. Your girlhood left long ago. You've,” he sucked on his teeth, “seen things.”

Edna stayed still, not daring to move or answer. Don't run. Beasts have instinct to chase.

“You came here for a quiet life,” he finally said. “Do you want it, or are you looking for something wild now that it's too quiet in your head?”

“I like knowing things,” Edna said. “Just to see how they work. To know.”

“Dangerous inclination to have around dangerous men, love,” he rumbled. “Best to leave old dogs to their tricks.”

“You don't seem so dangerous,” Edna said. “I've heard talks of when you were alive, but being dead seems to have slowed you down.”

Alfie eyed her carefully as he took another bite of buttered bread. He wiped his beard, trying to keep the crumbs from collecting.

“There's a reason I don't bring youthful maids to Margate, yeah?” Alfie ran his tongue along his teeth, refusing to meet her eyes. “It's not because they're pretty or tempting, it's because youth at its core,” he paused, flexing his hands. His rings glistened in the low light. “it's fucking annoying. It's inexperience. It's instinct. I don't want instinct. I don't want reaction. I want fucking left alone.”

He sighed deeply. 

“Do I need to find you a new boss to annoy, little light?” Alfie asked quietly. “Or can you leave an old man to his secrets?”

Edna dipped her head as she clasped her hands together in front of her like a chastised child. 

“I'd prefer to stay here, Alfie,” she said. “I fear a new employer wouldn't have the same enjoyable wit about them.”

Alfie cracked a smile.

“I am a fucking delight, aren't I?”

The tension eased in the room. Alfie exhaled as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Listen, Edna,” Alfie rumbled. “You have free reign. You do a good job with your duties. Cyril loves you. Just try to remember,” Alfie smiled as he opened his hands to the sky. “I'm a fucking criminal. I'm not your dad's fucking schoolmate or your mum's cousin. I fucking kill people, yeah? So maybe pretend this dog still has teeth once in a while. You're a nice girl. I'd hate to fucking kill you.”

“You wouldn't kill me,” she said before she could stop herself. “I think you like me too much to kill me.”

Before she could move, Alfie was on his feet with his hands around her neck pushing her into the windowsill. A scream died in her throat as the sill hit her hip and her upper half leaned out into the sea breeze. Her hands scrambled to grab the ledge as Alfie held her up. 

“Don't fucking underestimate an animal, pet,” he growled. “It's the surest way to die.”

Alfie's eyes flashed gold in front of her, animal eyes shining in the dark, before he hoisted her back inside and let go of her neck. Her heart roared in her ears as he turned to pace his room without his cane. She massaged her neck, tears running down her face. Alfie cleared his throat, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Right,” he ran his hand over his face as he continued to pace. “I'm leaving for a trip. Tonight. Now. Take care of Cyril, little light.”

She nodded numbly, her hand not leaving her burning neck. Alfie sighed. 

“It would be best if you're not out after dark, pet,” Alfie said softly. 

He licked his lips, rocking on his heels as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. 

“Just be safe.”

Alfie turned and left his bedroom without so much as a glance. 

The dreams were the same every time he left. Rustling, sniffing, a large creature just out of sight. Sweat. Fear. Strong hands. Ecstacy. 

Edna fell asleep on a couch in Alfie's study a few nights into his travels, Cyril sleeping dutifully on her legs as she curled up with a random book she plucked from the shelves. It was a book about workers and how to keep the working class on your side. Cyrils' soft snores lulled her to sleep until the book lay over her face, hiding what little candlelight was left. 

Edna woke up hours later, stretching her legs out as she realized Cyril was no longer on them. She heard the tapping of clawed paws on the floor. She felt an unfamiliar weight land on her legs as a massive furry head laid on her waist. She lifted the book to see the dark shaggy dog eye to eye with her. 

“Hello again,” she said wearily. “How did you get in? Have another friend in the manor?”

She slowly reached out until the black dog met her hand, placing its cold nose into her palm. It bumped her hand gently as she relaxed. 

She ran her hand along its fur, in awe of the muscles beneath and the intensity of its eyes. One golden eye and the other scarred and damaged.

“Where's Cyril?” She smiled. “Let's see if Cookie left any scraps, eh? It's time I go to bed anyway.”

Her hand gently grabbed the scruff of its neck as she shifted under it, making the dog huff and jump down with a shake.

Edna stood and fluffed her dress before leading the dog back to the kitchen in the dark house. She had been there long enough to know how to move in the stillness, familiar with the works of the old house. The dog trailed behind. 

When she got to the kitchen, she looked around for Alfie's untouched plate, tossing the chicken onto the floor for the dog and giving it a rough pat before opening the door to the outside. The dog ate the chicken quickly, head cocked. 

“It's time to go now,” she said firmly. “Off to bed I go.”

The dog chuffed, lowering it's head as it passed her. 

“Come now,” she laughed. “You pout nearly as bad as Cyril. Off you go.”

She closed the door before going to her own room to lay down. She fell asleep, and the same dream came quickly enough. 

Scratching. Sniffing. A rustling at her feet as her body refused to move. Ecstacy. Pleasure. She could almost hear a familiar chuckle on the wind. 

Edna woke up in a pool of her own blood. 

She cursed under her breath as she quickly gathered her bedding and changed clothes, hoping to clean her mess before the rest of the house woke up. 

She put water in the kettle and heated it before taking everything to the wash house in the back yard, pouring the hot water in the metal pan before dropping her laundry in and grabbing the wash board. She grabbed a sheet and went to work, trying to erase every trace of her embarrassment.

She was certain she was the only woman of an age to make such a discretion. If it was stained, there would be no doubt who did it. She scrubbed harder. 

The wash house was little more than a shed with a spicket, a door, and one small window. Dirt floors to make spills of little to no consequence. She scrubbed and rinsed as she watched the sky slowly gain light. 

The door creaked behind her and she jumped and spun around to find the black dog in the doorway, head low and teeth barred. 

Edna made no movement, fighting her fear as the dog entered the shed, slowly making strides to her. She clung to the soaking wet sheet, the only barrier between her and the dog. 

“What's wrong, boy?” She said, her voice a higher pitch than normal. “Where's Cyril, eh? Where's that silly friend of yours? Cyril!”

Her voice went shrill, Cyril bounded into the door and knocked the dog off balance as she threw the wet sheet on both of them and ran out the door before she heard Cyril yelp. 

She ran to the house, refusing to look back until she was safely back in her room. She did not move until the sun was completely up and the full moon was hidden below the horizon. 

When she returned to the wash house, the only evidence was her ripped bloody sheet on the dirty floor. 

Edna did not leave the house once the sun dipped below the trees after that. She checked every window, every door. She jumped at noises. She stopped reading in Alfie's library at night. 

She found Cyril in Alfie's room with a limp that evening. She fed him his owner's dinner as she wrapped his injured leg, giving him kisses on his head. Cyril chuffed happily at the affection, leaning on her with his familiar weight.

Perhaps Cookie was right, the black dog was a wolf and not a dog. 

Edna heard the knock from the front door and hurried to check if the kettle was still hot. She had been trying to keep the water ready for tea all afternoon, waiting for Alfie's guest to arrive. Mr. Shelby was late, of course, and she could hear him brush past the door man. 

She set the platter for the two teacups and waited a few minutes for the men to settle in the study before she made her way there. 

She froze when she turned the corner to see Isaiah at the door of the study, relaxed stance but hands clasped in front of him. His eyes lit up as she did her best not to drop the tray. 

“Is that you, Edy?” Isaiah said, wiping his smirk away with his hand. “So this is where you ran off to.”

“Move, Isaiah,” Edna said softly, afraid to meet his eyes as she took a step forward. “I'm bringing the boss men tea.”

Isaiah reached out and gently lifted Edna's chin up until her eyes met his. He didn't try to hide his devilish smile or the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Wanna dip in the snow, Edy?” He said in a low voice. “For old times sake?”

His whisper triggered memories that ripped through her like bullets. 

“You're beautiful,” he said as his hand found her hip and pulled Edna close, “your husband should be afraid of having you out like this.”

“Husband's dead,” Edna laughed, gently pulling away from Isaiah. “I'm free and inclined to stay so.”

Edna jerked her face out of his hand and pushed past him, bumping the door open with her hip as the china clanked on the tray. 

“I'm clean now,” she stated as she pushed through the doorway.

“Tea,” she called, taking over the small table with the alcohol on it as she mixed Alfie's tea how he liked it. “Mr. Shelby, would you like milk? Sugar?”

“I'll give you another bump if you dance on the bar,” Isaiah teased.

“Promise?” Edna challenged. 

She kept her back to the men but she could feel their eyes on her as Shelby answered. 

“Splash of milk, no sugar,” he said before turning back to Alfie. “Now explain your American business, and let's see if we can help each other.”

“I've got half of Boston, including the ports,” Alfie answered. “Got an uncle running things for me.”

“Ah,” Tommy answered, completely ignoring Edna as she delivered his tea to the desk in front of him. 

“I don't want to do it,” Edna said, clinging to Isaiah's arm as he tried to push her off toward his friend. 

“You'll do what I tell you,” Isaiah said, eyes gleaming. “You'll do it for a bump, won't you love?”

Edna glanced at the door as she went back to get Alfie’s tea and paled. Isaiah followed her in and stood in front of the door, hands clasped in front of him as he watched her closely with a smirk. 

She faltered for a moment before she picked up Alfie’s tea and brought it to him. She could hear Mr. Shelby speak, but could not decipher the words with Isaiah’s eyes on her. She felt like prey being hunted. 

“Thank you, love,” Alfie said offhandedly, but Edna immediately felt Shelby's cold stare scrutinizing her. 

Whether a sign of affection that could be manipulated or a throw away statement, Edna could feel her ears reddening under the scrutiny. Her collar felt hot as she scrambled to fulfill her duties and leave. 

“Anything else, gentleman?” She asked, clapping her hands together as her voice pitched unusually high. She straightened up a little too straight. 

“Not now, thanks,” Alfie said, waving her away. 

He looked at her inquisitively before returning his gaze to Mr. Shelby. He frowned as he realized Shelby's focus was also on her. His eyes shifted to Isaiah at the door and his frown deepened further until the lines were canyons on his face.

“Do I know you?” Tommy asked, leaning back in his chair as he rummaged through his pockets for a cigarette. 

“Not in my house,” Alfie growled as Tommy gathered his lighter. 

“Did you work in London?” Tommy continued, lighting his cigarette and taking a long draw from it as he studied Edna. 

Edna froze, looking between Tommy's gaze and Isaiah's devilish grin. 

“She used to like the snow,” Isaiah answered. “Disappeared about a year ago.”

“Now that's enough–” Alfie started to say.

“Does she owe us money?” Tommy asked, a twitch of a smirk on his face. 

Alfie’s fist banged against the desk, making Edna and Isaiah jump at the sudden noise. 

“She has no debts,” Alfie answered in a low rumble. “I thoroughly look through the backgrounds of each of my staff. She's been clean long before she started here, gentleman, and she has no debts or ties to you.”

“Now,” Alfie's voice began to rise until it was a booming yell. “If your man can get his fucking eyes off my maid and we can return to business, I won't dig his fucking eyes out with this tiny fucking spoon, eh? My staff is off the fucking table.”

Edna flinched, gathering the platter as Isaiah’s smile dropped. Alfie's shoulders dipped, as did his voice. 

“Thank you, Edna, that will be all,” he said softly, the frustration of the moment making the words sharp. 

Edna nodded and left, Isaiah moving without a word or a glance in her direction. She hid in Alfie's room, changing bedding and preparing for the evening of reading he was likely to do. Anything to not run into Isaiah again.

Once she heard the visitors leave, she hurried to her room, just off the kitchen, to freshen up before helping Cookie prepare dinner. As she opened the door, she saw a small envelope on her bed. 

Edy, 

In case you missed me. 

Isaiah

Edna’s hands started to shake as she picked up the small envelope and saw the back was tucked in rather than properly closed. A small bag of snow was carefully placed inside. Maybe enough for a few bumps, just enough to get her back on the path of doing what needed to be done to stay riding the high. Enough for her to call him in a day or two and ask for more. 

“I'm old enough to be your older sister, or maybe even an aunt,” Edna teased as she wiped her nose off. “Why do you keep flirting with me? You know I'll be back when I run out.”

Isaiah, 23 with mischief in his eyes, rubbed Edna's cheek fondly. 

She was nearly 10 years his elder, it would be easy for him to keep this relationship purely transactional. She brings money, he gives her snow. Instead, Isaiah found a way to rub her knee or wrap an arm around her. Asked if she wanted to join the boys at the bars. 

“Maybe I like older women,” Isaiah said playfully. “Maybe I like you.”

Edna snorted a laugh, the snow and whiskey mixing to smooth the edges in her mind. She pointed at him with a smile. 

“You like making women want you,” she said, starting to slur. “It feeds your ego.”

“Maybe I like that you call me out,” he said, motioning around him at the loud pub. “Girls my age, they see the good of all this, the glitter and drugs, and don't realize the dirt underneath. I don't need that. I need a girl that can see the glitter, but handle the grit.”

“I'm not looking for marriage, boy,” Edna said. “I just want a night away from time to time.”

Isaiah smiled, showing a little too much teeth. 

“I can give you a good time.”

Edna looked at the drugs in her shaking hand. 

“Edna, help me with the potatoes!” Cookie bellowed, making her jump. 

“Yes, ma'am!” She called, stuffing the envelope in her dress pocket as she turned to cut potatoes.

After cooking, Edna brought the plate to Alfie's chair in his room. She gathered up the papers at the side table and dropped them in his lap as she set his food down where they had been. Alfie looked up from the page he was reading to give her a scowl.

“Now they're all mixed to hell, woman,” Alfie growled. 

“You can rearrange them while you eat,” she clipped back.

Alfie’s eyebrows raised as he leaned back to look at her. He tossed the papers to the floor.

“Feeling feisty now Shelby's man is gone, eh?” He asked. “You were a frightened bunny twitching over the tea during the meeting.”

“They're criminals,” she said weakly.

“They know you,” Alfie insisted. “And you didn't like how that boy looked at you any more than I did.”

“Isaiah,” Edna exhaled. “He and the youngest Shelby sell snow through the pub.”

“Dealers don't look at addicts like they're prey, girl,” Alfie’s voice rumbled. “Money isn't that carnal, especially from a guaranteed source.”

Edna's cheeks pinked for the second time that day as the drugs in her pocket burned like a scarlet letter. 

“I didn't run,” she said, chin raising. “Just like you taught me.”

“Shelby isn't a beast,” Alfie snorted. “He's too damn clinical in his dealings. And Isaiah,” Alfie rolled the young man's name in his mouth as if tasting rotted meat, “is a puppy chasing cattle. He wouldn't know what to properly do with a woman if he caught her.”

Edna opened her mouth to retort, but Alfie was already speaking. 

“He'll have a good time, I'm sure,” he waved, “but keep a woman? Cherish her? He has no clue. That type wants to possess without being owned.”

“He wants a stable of women to choose from,” Edna confirmed. “And he's tried to tempt me back.”

Edna tossed the envelope into Alfie's lap. Alfie looked at the note slowly before opening the edge of the envelope, just a glimpse. He tutted and tossed it into the fireplace to burn. 

“Stupid is what he is,” Alfie growled as he curled his fist, staring into the fireplace. “If I wasn't such good friends with Tommy, he'd already be dead.”

Edna looked longingly into the fire before shaking the thought away to look back at Alfie.

“You'd kill him?” She asked. “Over a maid?”

“Over trying to corrupt my house,” Alfie answered. “Corruption spreads.”

“But you, little light,” Alfie said as he reached for her hand to pull her closer. “You did not succumb to the serpent. You refused to bite the apple and be cast from Eden. You,” he gently guided her until she sat on his large lap. “Have stayed loyal to this house and its master.”

Edna shuddered under the words and his touch. His warm hands burned through her dress, one still holding her hand between them as the other rested on the better part of her thigh. 

“What does my favorite maid want for her loyalty, eh?” Alfie teased, his hand like a weight. 

Edna's mind blanked as she felt warmth blossom between her legs as Alfie's thumb gently rubbed her thigh. His other thumb grazed her knuckles, pulling them closer to his mouth before he gently kissed them. His beard was soft and tickled. 

“Another ring perhaps?” He smiled wickedly, cocking his head to the side. 

He guided her hand to his shoulder before spreading his massive hand and resting it right below her neck. 

“What about a pretty gold locket?” He purred, looking at his hand as if envisioning the jewelry. “Perhaps a new dress, too. A loyal woman deserves to feel like a queen.”

“I doubt you buy your staff jewelry for doing their job,” Edna said, mouth dry. 

“I value loyalty above nearly all else, little light,” Alfie said as he traced her collar bone. “Name what you want.”

You, Edna thought, but was too afraid to answer truthfully. 

“You already pay me well, Alfie,” Edna said softly. 

Alfie hummed as his name left her lips. Edna fought back a shiver down her spine. His hand lightly squeezed her neck before he took it off of her, moving her hand from his shoulder until b it cupped his face.

“This eye is the eye of a dead man,” he said, her hand on his cheek below his marred eye. “I can see through life like a curtain billowing in the wind. Do you know what I see, pet? A trembling girl, but you're not trembling from fear, are you? No. That is a tremble with promise, innit? Temptation, that's what you are. I can fucking smell it on you as if you're soaked in spring rain.”

Alfie rolled his face into her hand like a dog rolling in dirt, inhaling as her wrist touched his nose. He kissed her palm softly before letting her hand go. 

“Go on, then,” he said. “Don't continue to torture an old man. I'll choose to devour a less tempting meal.”

“Goodnight, Alfie,” she said numbly as she stood up. 

“Goodnight, little light,” Alfie said. “Sleep well.”

The lilt in his voice raised the hair on her neck, but she walked out the door to eat her own dinner from whatever Cookie had made. 

Later that evening, she found herself in Alfie's study, fingers running over the spines of his library as she looked for a new book to read. She stopped when a spine unexpectedly moved under her finger, the spine sliding to reveal it was barely attached and concealing the true title of the book. She stopped and pulled the book away, opening the cover to read the inside page, “Lycanthropy: Mythology or Untapped Science?”

She thumbed through the pages, finding crude sketches of beasts, men, and in-between abominations. There were scientific studies intertwined with various mythologies. She found notes scribbled in the margins in Alfie's handwriting, and she stopped when she turned the page and an x-ray fell out. A skull with a bullet lodged in it. It had been tucked into a chapter about transformations and skeletal changes between men and beast. 

Edna jumped as she heard footsteps down the hall. She scrambled to put the image back into the book and put it back on the bookcase as the steps got louder. She did her best to look at the books as Alfie walked into his study, a grim grin on his face as he realized it was already occupied. Cyril walked beside him, limping with his bandaged paw.

“Well hello again,” he hummed. “Light reading before bed?”

Edna did her best to smile back as he moved around her to his desk covered in papers. 

“Couldn't sleep yet,” she said. 

“It's been an eventful day,” he agreed, rustling through papers until he tapped one, finding what he was looking for. 

He picked his glasses up from the desk and put them on, picking up the paper and adjusting its proximity until he could read it. 

“You asked me what I want,” Edna said, voice wavering. 

Alfie looked over his glasses at her. 

“I did.”

“I don't want things,” she said, vibrating in place as she forced herself to look him in the eye. “I like to know things.”

“Hmm,” Alfie hummed. “Curiosity killed the cat, little light.”

“Satisfaction brought him back,” Edna answered, a little too quickly and loud. She hesitated. 

“I don't like secrets, or not knowing what's happening around me,” Edna shifted in place. “Knowledge is power. It's comfort. It's how to set forth a plan that will succeed.”

Alfie chuckled.

“You really have been reading my business theory books, haven't you, pet?” Alfie watched her closely for a minute before he nodded. “Alright then. So ask.”

“I want to know about your businesses,” Edna said as she took a step toward him eagerly. “Illegal and legal.”

“That's not a question, little light,” Alfie said, eyes gleaming. 

“How many businesses do you have?” Edna asked, raising her chin. “What is the scope? Tommy said you had American business. What is it? How did you expand to another continent?”

“My, aren't you curious, indeed,” Alfie smiled.

“And you're far more ambitious than the average maid. What plan do you expect to have once you know all my business?”

“I don't know,” she answered truthfully. “My brain buzzes sometimes. I miss the drugs. I need something to work on. Learning new things helps.”

Edna shrugged. 

“New blood brings fresh eyes. Maybe you need someone that's not a gangster to tell you something new.”

Alfie chuckled, beckoning her to his knee. 

“I could use some company with some fucking brains,” Alfie said as she sat down. “Brains and beauty will do me in, it will. Might as well shoot my fucking brains out again. Alright, love, let's start with the legal business, so you can learn how to twist it to illegal. You've got to know the fucking rules to break them, hmm?”

Every night they would meet in his study and Edna would learn about the legal businesses that spread from Camden to Boston and everywhere in between. She learned that Alfie would place a legal business in an area as a test before he would conduct illegal business in the area. Alfie explained his business partners and underlings like pieces on a chess board, all having their place and use to let the king go where he pleased. They would talk into the night, papers surrounding them, Alfie’s hand wrapped around Edna sitting on his lap, his beard tickling her shoulder as he pointed out every piece of his empire. Cyril at their feet.

Edna waited every evening, barely breathing, for Alfie to cross a line. For another staff to catch them. For anything to happen. 

Nothing. 

Edna learned safely at Alfie's knee like a precocious child, and she quickly began to resent it. 

Sure, there were comments here and there, banter as always, a wayward glance, but Alfie was true to his promise of being a gentleman, and every night Edna squirmed in her skin because of it. 

Weeks of his breath on her shoulder. Of a gentle kiss against her knuckles before sending her off to bed. Of his hand on her hip to steady her, but never straying. His low chuckle or hum in agreement. 

Maddening. 

She went to the study again, knowing it had to be near the time Alfie's would leave for business. Instead of her uniform, she had changed into her nightgown, a thin, flowy thing that was barely opaque. 

She opened the door quietly, knowing Alfie would already be at the desk waiting. He didn't look up when she entered, merely raised his arm to welcome her onto his lap as he finished reading a paper. 

Edna's breath hitched as she quickly rounded the desk to slip on his lap. Alfie's hand came down to rest on her hip like always, but he froze as he felt the material. He looked up from the paper to look at her body, staring at her chest before dragging his eyes to hers.

“What's this?” Alfie said, warily.

“We're always here so late,” Edna said innocently. “I thought I'd wear my nightgown so when it's done, I can go directly to sleep.”

“Did you?” Alfie kicked his lips, struggling to keep his eyes above her neckline. “Nothing sinister in that head of yours at all, then.”

Edna did her best to keep her face blank as she watched his hand twitch on her thigh and his eyes dip to her slip of a dress. Alfie let out a low sigh. 

“Now's not the time to tempt an old man,” Alfie said, tired. “I've got my business trip in a day's time. Head's not all together here, pet.”

Edna wrapped her arm around his shoulders, turning to better face him on his lap. 

“Can I go?” She asked, fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder as Alfie's eyes widened. “I could put what I've learned to the test.”

Alfie stared hungrily at her figure, the gown leaving little to the imagination. He cursed under his breath.

“I can only be pushed so far, love,” Alfie said as his hands circled her hips and he pushed her to stand between his legs. “I've done my end and stayed a gentleman. You did your end and giggled at my wit and quips. What is this new proposition? I might behave for you, pet, but I'm still a dirty dog that you're downright teasing. You're changing the rules.”

“Wasn't aware gangsters followed rules,” Edna rasped, letting her dress fall on her shoulder. “You've been teaching me how you break them for weeks, Alfie.”

“That what this is, then, little light?” Alfie said. “Your youth is showing again, pet. Like a fucking steak in front of a starving beast.”

Alfie stood up suddenly and pushed her into his desk roughly. She gasped as he grabbed her chin. 

“I'm not gentle, little light,” he growled, his eyes glowed like an animal in the dark. “Our first time won't be tonight.”

“First?” Edna stammered.

Alfie smiled wide as his thumb traced her lips.

“Sex,” he rumbled. “Good fucking sex, it takes knowing a person. The first time is usually all ass and elbows. Everyone's too excited. Too much lust.”

Alfie let go of her chin and snapped his fingers. 

“It's too quick, innit?” Alfie chuckled. “The second, well, it's learning time. You have to watch every squirm. Every little sigh.” 

Alfie gently lifted her onto his desk, his hands on both of her thighs as he pulled her back to him. He placed his forehead to hers as he slowly dug his fingers into the back of her thighs. She let out the softest noise and arched her back. Alfie hummed.

“Takes interest, to catch every nuance,” Alfie murmured. “Quick study, I am. I do suspect that my desk will smell faintly of you by morning.”

“What's the third, Alfie?” Edna asked, mouth dry as her body ached for him. Alfie smiled. 

“The third is when a man like me takes everything he's learned, right?” Alfie nuzzled into her hair until he found her ear. “And fucks her until she begs him to stop. Until they're both so fucking spent that all they can do is babble nonsense.”

“Tonight, right, I'm half animal. All teeth and claw,” His grip bruised, mixing pleasure with pain. “Oh you'd enjoy it, you would. But that little fear that tickles the back of your brain would taint it. Mix emotions that don't need mixing, and that, little light, is why it won't be now.”

Alfie pulled back as he lightly patted her leg, but Edna grabbed his face before he could walk away.

“Please?” 

Alfie’s eyes rolled into his head before he kissed her fiercely, bruising her lips. She met his passion with her own as he grabbed her hands from his face and held them above her head in his fist. In the same instance, her back hit the desk. His other hand ripped her dress up her leg as he pawed furiously at her. His knee jerked her legs open wider and he swallowed her breath. 

A low growl came from their feet. Alfie froze in place as he looked over the desk to see Cyril with his ears back. Alfie scowled. 

“Right,” he sighed as he stood up, helping Edna stand beside him. “As I said. Not tonight. Best if tonight's lesson stops.”

Alfie lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it before he took a step back. Edna reeled. Everything was too fast. Too much. The fear and lust intermingled and she couldn't tell which way was up.

“Goodnight, little light,” Alfie said. “I'll see you in a few days time.”

“I don't like when you're gone,” Edna whispered. “The dreams always come.”

“Dreams?” Alfie asked, frowning. “What dreams?”

“Something always comes to my door,” Edna said, afraid to look him in the eye. “I hear scratching. Sniffing. When it catches me,” she rubbed her arms uncomfortably. “I can't tell if I'm excited or dying.”

“Right,” Alfie said, incredulously. “How long were you around those gypsy bastards, again?”

Edna laughed and looked up to see Alfie's sly smile. 

“Can I come with you?” Edna whined. 

Alfie sighed. 

“You don't want to come along, pet,” he said quietly. “It's not what you think. There's no glamour where I'm going.”

Alfie raised her chin until they met eyes.

“If you're a good little girl while I'm gone, yeah,” he licked his lips, allowing himself another look at her thin gown. “I'll take you on a nice trip, yeah? A jaunt to the city. Nice dress, shiny club, fresh sheets you didn't have to put on the bed. But only,” he pointed a finger at her as if to chastise, “if you're good to Cyril while I'm gone. He's taken a shine to you, he has.”

“I'm better to Cyril than I am to you,” she joked.

“Perhaps that will change when I return,” Alfie winked before placing a soft kiss on her lips. 

Edna felt the energy shift as he left the room. Lighter. Empty. She exhaled in frustration. 

Boof, the soft sound came from the bookcase. 

“You taking me to bed, then?” She sighed as she looked at Cyril, tail hitting the floor as he sat, tongue lolled out. 

Edna had no intention of letting Alfie disappear on his trip again. She did her best to stay out of his way the next morning like he wished, but she knew he would make his way to his automobile after tea. 

She would lay on the floorboards of his back seat and pray the man never looked behind him. She might get fired. She might get killed. She had to know. 

The scientific studies and the X-ray bounced around in her head as she crept into the back seat once the men packed Alfie’s bag in the back. She did her best to lay a coat over her to hide, and she waited. 

Depending on myth origins, werewolves could change at will or were forced to change with the lunar phase. Most mythologies within England have origins of being bitten by a beast before being forced to change under a full moon. The beasts can only be killed by silver bullets to the heart or head.

Edna heard Alfie open the car door and slide into the seat. 

“Right, the bag is in the back, yeah?” He said with a sniff. “I'll be back in a few days as always.”

Alfie sniffed again and Edna froze. 

“Did uh,” Alfie said reluctantly. “Did the maid pack my bag, the young one?”

“Yessir,” one of the men answered. “Should we have had someone else do it next time?”

“No,” Alfie said quickly. “No, it's fine. Just wasn't sure. Off you go, then. Keep it quiet around here until I get back.”

“Yessir,” the man said back. 

Alfie closed the door and started the vehicle. Edna could feel it back up and then off they went. Alfie hummed in the front seat as the vehicle bounced around the rocky roads. 

 “Show me the way to go home,” he rumbled the song. “I'm tired and I wanna go to bed.”

Over time, Edna relaxed under the coat and found herself drifting in and out of sleep. 

She jolted awake to Alfie slapping the steering wheel. 

“Get it together,” he mumbled to himself. “The hell did that devil woman do, roll in my clothes? Leave her knickers in my bag? Woman is going to drive me insane.”

Edna stifled her giggle, ducking further into the floor before letting the road lull her back to sleep. A bit later, she woke to the car door opening. 

She braced herself for Alfie to get his bag from the back, but he never did. 

Time rolled by, and finally Edna gathered the courage to peek from under the coat and through the window, but Alfie was nowhere to be found. 

What she did see was a quaint stone cottage, old and overgrown with vines attempting to reclaim it to the wild. It looked small and discreet, surrounded by pasture. She waited a time more, but Alfie never came back. 

She slowly moved from the floorboards, stiff and sore, and opened the car door away from the cottage, slipping out and hiding behind the wheel. 

The sun was starting to lower in the sky, a brilliant display of oranges and purples danced along the clouds as she did her best to sneak into the cottage. The cracked door creaked as she opened it, and she stood up straight, expecting it to alert Alfie that she was there. 

The stone cottage was bare bones with only a few amenities. A couple pots hung on the wall, an empty hearth, a small untouched bed in the corner. It was a simple little house, dark with only one small window that was eye level, but no Alfie. She turned to leave and noticed the door had numerous locks on it and a bar that could barricade the owners in. Outside, there was still no trace of him. Edna walked around the outside of the home, nothing but vines and the sounds of wildlife preparing for dark. Upon the west of the house was a set of doors on the ground to the cellar. They looked more solid than the house door.

Edna opened the cellar and began her descent. The stone was cold and the air almost felt wet. The hair on her arms raised as she made her way to the bottom. The cellar was easily three times the size of the cottage above it.

Candles lit the room and showed rows of barrels, rum that awaited transportation. This was a safe house for Alfie's illegal activities. 

A rustle echoed from the dark beyond the barrels, and Edna fought the urge to run as she walked into the pitch black. Once bathed in the dark, her eyes adjusted to see a faint glow was ahead of her. She tried to keep her steps quiet as she floated through the dark toward the dim light. As she got closer, she realized the glow outlined a door, flickering as someone paced beyond it. A strange skipping of silence hit her in rhythmic procession. Edna shuddered before reaching blindly for the doorknob. 

The door creaked, opening wide to find a room with a record player skipping in the corner. Candles encircled the room along every wall but near the door. Alfie knelt in the shadow of the record player, his eyes flashing gold in the dark. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, pet,” Alfie growled as he slammed his hand on the ground. 

“Alfie, what are you–”

“GET OUT!” he yelled, his voice bestial in a way she had never heard before. 

She froze. He stood up, pacing wildly around the recorder, his movement jerky in the dim glow of the candles. He attempted to crank the record player, but yanked the crank off, and chucked it across the room to the opposing wall before overturning the entire thing. The skipping stopped with a slam and he matted his hair down with his fists as she stifled a scream.

“You're too damn smart is what you are,” he seethed as he stomped in front of her like a lion in a cage. “You couldn't just fucking listen for once. Your youth wouldn't allow one nice thing.”

“Alfie,” Edna said in a small voice. “Why are you tied to the wall like a–”

“Like a fucking animal, pet?” He said, his voice running from a growl to a scream and back again. “You read my books. You've been nosing around like a fucking hound. You know. Think real hard, pet. Why would I be here right now? What is happening outside in, oh, two hours?”

“Nightfall?” she said. “It's a full moon.”

He rushed at her at that moment, the flames curving toward him, and she shrieked as he was ripped off his feet by the metal around his neck. 

He chuckled darkly as he lay the floor, a sound between madness and hate. 

“Why did you follow me, little light?” he said warily. “I didn't want to have to kill you. I was trying to save you from me, you beautiful, stupid woman.”

His head snapped up as his eyes widened. 

“The car,” he said, scrambling toward her feet, throwing the keys from his pocket. “Take the damn thing. Now. Quickly. Don't stop until you get home. Or morning. Or both.”

“I don't know how to drive, Alfie,” Edna whimpered, side stepping the keys as she rounded the room, keeping out of reach. “Why can't you control it? You're the black dog I've been seeing, no?”

“It's not just any moon, little light,” he pushed himself up to stand. “Blood moon tonight. You might delight, but the moon is my first and most fickle mistress. She doesn't like to share. She's been calling the wolf to the surface for days, and she won't be happy until every shred of man in me is sleeping.”

“You're locked away,” Edna motioned to the collar he wore. “Surely you can't break metal.”

“This won't fucking last with your scent in my nose,” he growled angrily as his hands grabbed at his metal collar. “With prey around and this hunger, it'll only slow me down.”

“I won't run,” Edna said, chin rising. “There's no chase if I don't run.”

“But you see, love,” Alfie laughed angrily. “I can fucking taste your fear from here. And I already fucking couldn't get enough of the smell of you before. The wolf is going to come at you like a dog trying to play with a bunny and-”

He clapped his hands together loudly. Edna stepped back with a gasp. 

“You,” Alfie said as he smoothed his beard. “Need to hide. Hide that delicious smell. Hide. I'm fucking drooling and I'm hanging onto my humanity with white knuckles. In an hour's time, I will be gone and the animal will rage.”

“The cottage,” Edna said numbly. “There's locks inside.”

“Ye,” Alfie hummed. “Take my bag in the car and get out of those clothes. Wear my old ones. Cover yourself.”

Alfie twitched, his body jerkily moving more and more as he stood in place. He cracked his neck, closing his eyes. 

“The rum,” he said quietly. “Get a bucket. Crack a barrel. Douse yourself before you change. Skin, hair, hell pour it over the bloody doorway. Hide inside until the sun is fully up in the sky. Don't you fucking open the door for God himself.”

“And the morning?” Edna stepped backward, facing Alfie as she made her way to the door. 

“I'll come for you,” Alfie's body twitched in the candle light as he gritted his teeth. “God, the wolf will hunt you all night. Your pounding heart is singing to him even now. Run, hide, and when the man awakes, I'll fucking come for you.”

Alfie’s head jerked abruptly and he fell to the floor with a yelp.

“Fucking GO!” he screamed, pain rippling through his every breath. 

Edna turned and ran.

"The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood,” his whispers echoed until it rose into a scream. “Before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord."

Edna raced through the cellar, searching for a bucket as she ran through the dark and back to the entrance. Alfie's growls and screams chased her as she ran, promising her death. Alfie was losing control. 

Edna clambered up the steps to the twilight, frantically searching for a bucket. She ran inside, finding one beside the door, along with a cast iron pan that hung on the wall. She raced back to the cellar, Alfie's growls and screams increasing in succession. 

Edna slammed the handle of the cast iron into one of the barrels, screaming in frustration as she hit it over and over until the wood gave way and rum gushed out. She gasped as she thrusted the bucket beneath it, trying to catch as much as she could. 

She carried the bucket up the stairs and to the car. She flung open the car door and reached for the travel bag, rifling through it to find Alfie's shirt and breeches. Alfie screams grew angrier as she ripped her dress off and poured the rum bucket over her head. 

The cold alcohol made her shiver, and she broke into tears as she rubbed the sticky rum into her skin before putting his clothes on. Her sobs got the best of her as she picked up the pan and headed back to the cellar doors. 

She closed them before going into the cottage and locking all of the locks and the barricade. She sat on the floor near the hearth, holding the pan, and waited.

Time slowly ticked by. She could faintly hear the screaming under the cottage as the single high window was the only indicator of the oncoming night. She shook, cold and sticky, as his screams turned into howls and the last shred of humanity in him disappeared. The cottage shook as something below her crashed through the cellar. She heard a howl before a loud bang, and then another. The cellar doors exploded outside of the cottage and Edna covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her scream. 

Outside the door, she heard rummaging and scratching of a wild beast. Edna laid down on the cold floor, squinting in the dark to see if she could see anything under the door. She heard as the beast came closer, sniffing and growling. Nails tapped on the porch as it huffed, wandering the front porch. The moon illuminated the countryside in red, allowing Edna to see a faint difference between the dark and the creature. She froze as it passed in front of the door and the sniffing grew frantic. A gutteral growl erupted from the other side of the door as the wolf scratched frantically, slamming into the door several times. 

Edna shrieked, and the wolf snarled, hitting the door several more times to no avail. She curled into a ball as she cried silently, praying for daylight.

The wolf finally gave up, or rather, looked for another way in. She sat in the dark, hugging her knees, for hours. She could hear the wolf circle the house, snarling and sniffing. It would be quiet for a time and she would start to relax, only for her to jump at a scratch or a howl. The single window in the house was too high for it to break and jump through, if it could even fit through. The door just had to hold for the night and she would be safe with the sun. The door groaned and splintered upon attacks, but held at the animal at bay. 

Edna, stiff and exhausted, began to close her eyes and sleep during the quiet moments. The dreams intermingled with reality, but she was losing the fight with her body. The day had been too much. 

Sniffing. Scratching. A low growl. Golden eyes shone as her body froze in place. The door shattered. A high pitched scream broke through the dark. Blood everywhere. 

She jolted, her eyes opened to a room she could finally see in. Daylight. Alive. 

She stood up, Alfie's shirt sticking to her as she attempted to stretch her aching body. She yearned for a hot bath.

She unlocked the deadbolts, removed the barricade bar, and flung the door open to see the sunrise. 

“Alfie?” Her voice cracked, raw from her screams. 

No answer. 

Edna stepped outside onto the porch, looking both ways for a trace of him. The car sat untouched in front of her, door still open from her hurry the night before. 

It was a brisk morning, a soft drizzle came from the moody clouds above as she rubbed her arms. A light fog was on the horizon as she watched the sun fight to shine through the clouds. The lightest frost touched the grass. 

“Alfie?” She called louder but let it die in the back of her throat. 

She moved silently to the cellar doors, inspecting the splintered wreckage on the ground. Edna bit her lip as she looked into the dark opening. 

Alfie's hand reached up to the light, a soft sob breaking the silent morning. 

“Edna?” 

Alfie climbed the steps on his hands and knees. She gasped as she saw the blood around his mouth and down his bare chest as he made his way up, his eyes wet with tears. He stood naked in front of her, his shoulders heaving with his sobs. 

“I woke up covered in blood and thought-”

Alfie grabbed her head and pulled her into his chest, crying into her hair. He was covered in grime and blood, and it stuck to her rum covered skin. 

“I did what you said,” Edna said hoarsely, clinging to him.

“Fucking brilliant, little light,” he kissed the top of her head as he tried to steady his breathing to stop the sobs. “Fucking brilliant, you are. Never fucking do that again. You stupid, brilliant girl.”

Edna laughed, her eyes wet with fresh tears. Alfie put her face into his massive hands and began to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips.

“Alfie?” Edna said in a small voice. 

“Just let me appreciate your life, damnit,” he muttered between kisses. “I fucking thought I killed the first good thing in my life in a long time. Let me delight in you, pet.”

“Can we delight in a bath?” Edna asked, giggling. “I can't stand myself, let alone the blood on you.”

Alfie chuckled as he rested his forehead on hers. 

“I could lick you clean from happiness, I could,” he said. “There's a well pump near the back, but no tub. We'll have to use rags to wipe down as best we can and drive back for a proper bath.”

Edna groaned. 

“This is going to be an incident,” she whispered. “The maids have quite the wagging tongues.”

Alfie smiled slyly as he picked her up bridal style to carry her to the back of the house. 

“Did that to yourself, you did,” he chuckled with a wink. “I've got something else you got wagging.”