In The Backalley's Of Whitechapel Road.

[Emmalena Louisa Ellis]

Emmalena felt the icy clamour of pre-shadowed consequence as it closed in on her like a lid. Selfishness would have brought her to force them away with unconsciousness, vanity of one's sex would make them flock to her with her tears but she knew better, had been raised better. The light that fell upon the bed from the pane was like a cross, the constable and young man beside her would be her judge and jury - but only by what she said would she know which.

The constable had grey eyes, but unlike the Warden's they appeared softer through their lens of stone. She fancied to herself that he was a good father and worked hard to provide for his family. He was a tall man, about 6 foot at least and he towered over her in a way that a grandfather clock does to a small inquisitive child - the sound of the ticking both chiding and gentle depending on the fright or delight of its observer.

"I am sorry to have to ask you this at such a time Miss." he said lifting a notebook and pen. "I just have a few questions for you."Muted by her inward concerns she merely nodded.

Clearing his throat, the constable flicked his pen in such a way she nearly jumped and he continued smoothly, "What is your name Miss?"

For a moment she did not understand the third voice in the room that came so suddenly and so slightly that it took her imagination to recover and her consciousness to prod that it was in fact herself. "Miss Emmalena Ellis daughter of Sir Ellison, Gentleman, Esquire." she told him.

The constable nodded and began mumbling slightly to himself gazing at her and the book in each, more intently.
"Who and what were you doing with Robert Ashpelt of Bow Street?"

Frightened she felt herself begin to tremble, so much so that she turned to Ulric who all this time had been silent, keeping himself close to aid her if she should need it. Suddenly she noticed his hand, it was bandaged slightly as if from a cut - instantly she wanted to nurse him, regardless of her own pain, but as she took his hand images replayed themselves like a stenograph before her eyes haunting her with visions that now plagued her like a demonic nightmare. He was there he was beside her, there was the knife, blood, blood so much blood.... Trembling she cried out alarm in her eyes so that the room appeared to blur, constable and all.

"Doctor!" Ulric's voice appeared from far away as they eased her back to the bed. Suddenly she felt very tired, "We'll resume another time perhaps?" asked the doctor slowly turning to both constable and Ulric as he finished administrating her with a small white capsule which he hoped would let her sleep. Even as she did so small murmurings came from her clearly, over and over again so that the constable as he was ushered from the door recorded them as best he could in a long disjointed scribble:

The Warden

[ulricvonkatz]

Ulric's face was a strained mask of concern and furious speculation at the strange turn of events. He glanced at the constable uneasily, feeling for the first time the strangeness and overall risk of the situation. His involvement with this strange woman could very well endanger himself and lead to searching questions of his own clandestine activities, not to mention seriously jeopardise his social standing and career. Nonetheless, something about this ethereal and comely beauty compelled him to act in a manner coontrary to what he had thought was his nature.

Where once he had been cautious, content to accquire information and spectate the darker corners of London, now he felt thrust into the middle of it, and what had seemed an abstract cause- the suffering, corruption and penury of London- now seemed utterly immediate, and he found himself cursing himself for not having done more work, and investigated deeper and harder in order to be prepared for this crisis.

But, more galling still, was that this woman, who seemed to have captured his heart, was still on Death's Door, and she had left a mystery. A mystery that, unless he unravelled, and fast, could well lead to their imprisonment for murder.
As a suspect in an Investigation, Ulric knew, and as someone with a "Foreign Name", he would be hunder close watch by the constable. Shivers ran down his spine at the Prospect.

Yet, confined to this stranger's House, and with nothing better to do except to agonise over the condition of his beloved, he was not without resources.

He decided to seek out the staff of this Doctor's House. Perhaps he could even talk to the Doctor, though given the circumstances he could do little but profuse his thanks for such timely aid. In truth, he doubted the man would be inclined to offer more of his time and risk his reputation by becoming more intertwined in this Unfortunate series of events.

Ulric smiled, wondering why he felt so calm about things. His only real anxiety was over the condition of his Beloved, but, having resolved to act, he found himself becoming calmer, and more determined.

"Well, Elai'Syra, I shall need you to be my eyes and ears once again. Can you seek out the other Demons of this Household, and persuade them to aid us? I would very much like it if a message could be smuggled out of this Household, in particular to my contacts. I must know about the following: Ashpelt, the Warden, and the Ellises." The names burned on his mind, but he was determined, he would not be thwarted.

"Of course." she purred sibilantly. "And what are you going to do?"

"I..." he said, looking around the forlorn room, feeling a crushing responsibility for it all. "I am going to explore this House. Do what you can, and we'll compare notes later."

"As you wish." she said, and, with catlike ease, sauntered out of the room.

"I will be back my love." he whispered, and leant over her, kissing her pallid forehead, wishing her well. "I will solve this, and save you, somehow."

[Emmalena Louisa Ellis]

As Ulric moved round the house, the lone fox opened his eyes speculatively. It had taken only an hour for his physical wounds to heal, though his mental anguish over his counterpart, Emmalena worried him. He peered round the room, finally able to appreciate its fine furnishings now he was not being held down and forced to accept treatment. It reminded him a little of their old home, though the funiutre was of cheaper wood - oak he mused rather than the rosewood and mahogony of which Emmalena had been so fond. However the green walls pleased him greatly and his tail wagged - canine like - satisfied. He streched himself and plopped his head on the bedding beside Emmalena, watching over her and preparing to doze again when a stray fly landed and forced his head to turn absently. For a moment he registered the chair with the idly left cane; Ulric. He thought to himself smiling slightly. He wondered too over the white tiger, but she would be fine, he knew it. Finally content that all remained well his eyes closed again drifting in sleep - listening out for the young man's return.