Shadow of the Serpent
“TRADITIONAL BALLAD, Lyke-Wake Dirg Fasque, Mearns, 15 April 1850 The two women lay in bed together, Helen Gladstone mewling like a small animal, her face pressed into the starched white bosom of the other. This was not according to medical textbook but to hell with it, Eileen was at her wit’s end.
Dr Purdie had gone home to his, no doubt, adoring wife and family, the other two Gladstones were upstairs deep in conventional slumber, and she had been left atween pit and pendulum.
Above was the... portrait of a male of the line. He had the Gladstone features, some great-uncle no doubt, looking down his bulbous nose, eyes deep in sockets, mouth pursed at the goings-on.
Below, Helen burrowed frantically as if trying to conceal herself under the nurse’s body. She seemed terrified, her breath coming in short gasps. then all at once she raised her head. The pupils of her eyes were perfectly round, the irises a black purple.
‘He has washed his hands,’ she said. ‘In blood he has washed them.MoreLess
Dr Purdie had gone home to his, no doubt, adoring wife and family, the other two Gladstones were upstairs deep in conventional slumber, and she had been left atween pit and pendulum.
Above was the... portrait of a male of the line. He had the Gladstone features, some great-uncle no doubt, looking down his bulbous nose, eyes deep in sockets, mouth pursed at the goings-on.
Below, Helen burrowed frantically as if trying to conceal herself under the nurse’s body. She seemed terrified, her breath coming in short gasps. then all at once she raised her head. The pupils of her eyes were perfectly round, the irises a black purple.
‘He has washed his hands,’ she said. ‘In blood he has washed them.MoreLess
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