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Bad Moon Rising	By : Khaleesi-Of-Dragons Category: M through R > Raven, The (2012) > Raven, The (2012) Views: 1304 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Raven and I make no profit from this story

Chapter List
- 1-Bad Moon Rising
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-Epilogue
- 5
- 6
- 7
If I stay, it won't be long

'Til I'm burning on the inside

If I go I can only hope

That I make it to the other side

If I stay, it won't be long

'Til I'm burning on the inside

Get Out Alive-Three Days Grace

Elizabeth (Earlier)
I press my ear against the door, listening carefully for any signs that my guard had come back early. Only when I'm absolutely certain he was still eating dinner downstairs do I tiptoe to my balcony doors, hands clenched into fists and breathing deeply; my plan was relatively simple, but it didn't stop the butterflies from fluttering around in my stomach. With one last look around the room that has been my prison for the last couple of weeks; I take the pin out of my hair and stick it into the lock of the balcony doors.
Mom had taught me how to pick a lock when I was Andrew's age and the knowledge hasn't faded away over the years like daddy hoped it would.
Soon both doors are open and fresh air, heavy with the scent of rain, floats inside. "This is it," I whisper to myself," I am going to escape and show my father exactly where this prison is so that he can rescue Mom." Nodding with false confidence, I step outside, shivering in the cold. I start down the spiraling staircase that leads from the balcony into a garden full of what once had been beautiful flowers and several foreign plants, but now all that remains is a rotting shell. The ground beneath my bare feet is wet and slippery in some spots and dry and course in others where they are covered by what's left of the plants.
After a moment of getting my bearings, I begin to sprint towards the tree line; I go as fast as I can, not wanting to be caught if I am spotted. It would not due to be caught and have Blake hurt my mother again. It did not take very long for my breathing to turn into nothing but pants and gasps for air and the tree line was nowhere near close enough to hide in. Shouts could be heard behind me followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps and muffled curses as the men slid in the mud. "No," I sob, desperate tears running in streams down my face as the footsteps grow nearer and rain begins to fall. "No!" One of the men chasing me lunges forward and knocks me to the ground, driving the air from my lungs.
"Little bitch," he grumbles, turning me onto my back and sitting on my stomach, not letting enough air in my lungs. "Next time you run away make sure nobody's posted outside." He backhands me, making my head snap to the side and the world goes blurry. The man is yanked off me and thrown to the ground by the larger man that usually guards my room.
"Leave the little one alone, Peters," he rasps out, picking me up and carrying my over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes—back to the manor house that's become Momma's and my prison. Dazed from the hard blow to the head, I don't put up much of a struggle; in fact, the most I can really do is grumble a curse I'd heard escape Momma's lips when she thought she was alone and trying to sew. Momma wasn't good at sewing and usually pricked her finger. I smile a little, remembering that day with a fond smile on my face. Aunt Emily took over the sewing and had been teaching me how to sew while Momma taught Edgar how to read.
I'm jerked out of the small reverie when the man carrying me drops me onto my bed, the balcony doors once again closed and locked and my pins missing. "Does Blake know," I ask, voice rough from crying. The man, Raphael, I think, nods, stuffing one of his hands in his pocket.
"You'll see him when he's finished with your mother." He pauses in the door way, giving me a brief sympathetic look over his shoulder. "Do what he says; he has no qualms about hurting children."
Sarah
I frown as I look out the window, watching the scenery blur as it we speed by it. Ivan had been gone all morning, so my the almost hourly dose of Laudanum hasn't been given and my head felt clearer, and clearer means I can remember the things that happened a few weeks past. Edgar is probably dead, Emmett is seriously injured by a gunshot wound that Ivan loves to boast about, and now I am stuck on a train with a madman; surely things could not get any worse. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I pick up the book he had thrown at me before he'd left the train car for breakfast; Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Vern. That was the man Ivan was planning on stalking next; just like he had Edgar and myself. Hopefully this one escaped instead of falling into Ivan's web. The door of our car opens and Ivan slips inside, holding a bottle of alcohol and swaying unsteadily on his feet. Intoxicated and it's not even five O'clock yet? I shake my head subtly, scooting down further on the sleeping couch, pulling my blanket tighter around me. Maybe he wouldn't notice me if I made myself small.
"Sarah," he slurs, looking around and narrowing his eyes slightly as if to see better. Shaking, I pray silently that he doesn't find me at least this once. When he's drunk, Ivan becomes crueler than usual; not to mention rough. "Sarah!" I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers clutching the cross I had stolen a few years ago from a some Lord or another that had many more back home. "Little whore," he grumbles, leaving the room and slamming the door closed behind him.
After a few minutes of silence, I let the cover fall off of me, sucking in a few deep breaths of air. He was getting drunk more and more often; claiming the death of my brother as his reason. Perhaps it was a way to battle his madness, because he was very obviously mad in some form or another. You would have to be insane to murder so many people without any real reason or emotions.
Footsteps pausing outside the car makes me pause and hold my breath.
"Are you sure she is not in here, sir?"
"Of course I am sure; it would be hard to lose a woman in that tiny compartment!" The door slides open and a man follows Ivan inside. Ivan no longer swayed, actually, he looked sober for the first time in two days. And then I noticed the differences; his hair was a light blonde and longer, his clothing finer, and his face had changed almost completely. The man following Ivan left and slowly Ivan's began to change even more until Blake stood in his place.
"No," I scream, shooting up in bed and looking around wildly for any sign of Blake, but I was alone back in my room in Blake's home.
It was all a nightmare.
Emmett
I give my son a sympathetic glance as he comes forward, wrapping my arms around him and giving him a tight hug. "I'll be back soon, try to get some rest." Andrew nods, following a maid to his room. Emily had convinced after the break-in to move my son and I into her home, if not for anything but Andrew's safety. Surely the criminals didn't know where she lived. Charles Hamilton stands next to me, a firm hold on my shoulder as the others go their separate ways.
"Bring them back safely, Detective," he tells me in a soft voice so as not to be overheard," I've grown attached to those girls and I'll not be burying them anytime soon."
"Yes, sir," I nod before walking out into the rain and climbing into my awaiting coach. The next place, if I remember correctly, will be the theater where Edgar was nearly killed by Ivan. Old memories resurface and I recall the banter between Cantrell and Sarah; always ending in Cantrell's blushing. He was a good man and loyal to those he thought deserved it, but now he was dead and I'm chasing another madman.
When we pass the burnt out shell of Edgar's old house I can't help the wince; that happened the night Sarah and Edgar began staying in my home; along with that little raccoon, Carl, that had wormed its way into everyone's hearts, but mine. It purposefully scattered papers off of my desk, threw fruit pieces at me if I passed by when it was eating—I hated it. "Sir, we're here." I jump slightly, nodding and climbing out with Daniels following behind me. The theater was closed today and it took quite a bit of bribing to get the owner to come in and unlock it.
"Detective Fields," the rotund man at the door nods, holding the door open for my men and me. I go down to the lockers, searching for the one that had held the tongue of Maurice; a sailor that Ivan had murdered and dressed up like Emily. Growing impatient, I start slinging locker doors open; all of them being empty confused me.
"Keep searching," I call out to the others, slamming the last locker door closed. "Think, Emmett," I mutter to myself," where did you go once you got inside the theater?" I spin around and look at the table where we opened the box holding the tongue and quill. Surely the clue would be somewhere in here...
I tip the table over, finding an envelope taped to the bottom. Inside is the usual bit of parchment and something else; another drawing, this time of Elizabeth, her bottom lip split and bleeding. Color rises in my cheeks as rage makes my hands shake. 'I wasn't lying, Detective, your precious daughter will suffer as you soon will.' No one suspicious has been seen around here," Daniels informs me.
"No," I answer," madmen make it an art to look normal and blend in."
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Bad Moon Rising