The Seamstress of Hulda Street(8-Chapter Challenge for @justwriteit)

Chapter Four

'What a fruitful night this has been,' Rose said to herself, as she walked the seedy alleyways and dark corners once again. It had been hours since she went on the chase and her cart was now full of bottles of lone werewolf blood, each one jangling under the linen to the tune of her labored and shuffling steps. 

And what of the bodies from which the gore had been pilfered? The body of the police officer? The creepy stalker hiding in the bushes? The carriage driver? The harlot? The servant on her way back home? Well, they were where they belonged. Hidden. Ready. 

'My love. My army,' Rose continued, a cool breeze scattering her words and the fog all around. 'Now let's hope Daegol will be as productive with the new supply.' 

Rose had known Daegol for years, first meeting the man after her love had been bitten, after all of her other options had dwindled, vanished. She had sought him out for the same reason she kept going to him to this day. To find a cure. Though quite devious and sly, Rose had seen the marvels that had come from him grinding away in his laboratory. For now, he was her only hope. Everything was in his hands. 

Still looking like a crippled old hag, Rose lumbered on, toiling down a narrow lane and then another until she came to an establishment catering to the people most enslaved by their addictions. She peered inside the decrepit den, through a crusty window, and saw many men and women slumped over tables, convulsing on the floor, and wailing and muttering as if possessed by some evil from the underworld. 

Rose gave no mind to the sight as she had seen it countless times before. She then proceeded around to the back of the premise, where she knocked on a door wrought with iron and locks. 

Immediately, a sharp voice from within shouted in response, 'Fuck Off! How many times do I have to tell you lot? This is not the entrance. No drugs. No drugs.' 

Rose knocked again and said, 'I bear gifts.' 

It was Rose's usual remark at the door but her changed voice failed the seamstress. 

'I said, fuck off!' the voice rasped this time. 'If you don't, I will come out there and make sure the last high you experienced will be your final.' 

'I'll find another who wants to find me a cure and take my money then,' Rose huffed before hearing scurrying footsteps. The door shortly crashed open, revealing a man with bloodshot eyes and skin covered in sores and scabs. 'Daegol.' 

'As always, nice to see you,' the man squeaked with giddiness, though he was glaring right past Rose, her new and unfamiliar appearance, and at the cart parked behind.

'I brought you more volume this time as you asked,' Rose said. 

Daegol eagerly rubbed his hands together as if he was staring at a mound of gold. 'Excellent. Now let's quickly get it all inside. We don't want some tramp to come by and destroy your work.' 

Before long, Rose was standing in the man's laboratory, her back cracked again to make her stand straight. The room was brimming with alchemist equipment. There were burners erupting with flame, beakers of boiling liquid, glass tubes dripping with steam or dazzling with colorful gas. And there was a scent, a particular and peculiar scent amongst the numerous, that would burn many a nose. 

'What's that stink? Rose asked with a scowl, her mind becoming woozy. The smell was as offensive as a werewolf's stench. 

Staring into one of the bottles of blood with a glimmer in his eyes, Daegol replied nearby, 'I'm experimenting, trying to produce a drug more potent than what I sell now. More potent, more addictive, equals more money.' 

Like other evils, Rose thought drugs a scourge on society, but she had only a handful of cares in the world that she didn't want adding to. If her future turned out to be what she desired, however, maybe her attitude would change.