Page 25 of A Most Abhorrent Vessel

“Don’t act so coy. After all, if you minded, you wouldn’t be roaming these alleys in the middle of the night in nothing but smog and…” He stops himself, looking me up and down. “Well, I certainly don’t mind.” He grins, leaning closer.

“I expected going unperceived, so garments would be more of a hindrance than anything else.”

“See, I knew we were alike. I also believe garments are a hindrance.”

At those words, I let out an embarrassing sound.

“Odd and strange, aren’t you, dove?” he says playfully. Did he just? No, he couldn’t.

The man brushes a finger over my shoulder, but before I can react, he moves away again.

“But please, tell me more,” he says as if we have been friends for decades. What was it about this man’s behaviour that was so disarming?

“It’s a long story.”

“I must know everything!” He claps excitedly. “I have all the time in the world—and more.” When he talks, his eyes gleam brightly even in the dim light. I can’t explain how, but it feels as though this man can see me more clearly than any acquaintance ever had.

“Very well,” I finally say.

“I live near here, and I live alone. Unless you prefer your own abode?” He gives the little flourish again. It makes him look like he materialised out of thin air from a previous century.

Perhaps this unfeeling nature is making me reckless, and thus I’ve lost all sense of self-preservation. Maybe I’ve gone mad, or this stranger’s smile bewitched me into compliance, because the next thing out of my mouth is, “We can go to yours.”

“And then, it was…” My words falter, and I remain silent for a moment. “I cannot begin to explain the kind of agony I endured,” I finally finish.

I glance at the stranger sitting across from me on a well-used Chesterfield. With his legs draped over the side, he looks completely relaxed. Even though his garments look very en vogue and well-tended to, the room we are in tells a different story.

Decades’ worth of paint and paper peel from the walls in colourful layers. The sparse furniture looks ancient, its threadbare appearance matching the walls. Although everything is spotless, there is an air of purposeful abandonment to the room. The result is strangely cosy, even if it transgresses all conventions and fashions.

“Your senses failed you completely, correct?” he asks.

“They did,” I respond.

“You felt or sensed nothing, then? No taste, no touch, until you ingested that potion,” he continues.

I agree.

“So then this so-called potion made you feel. Which is good. But it was pure pain and suffering. Which is bad.”

“I suppose.”

“How very interesting.” He folds his arms behind his head, silently staring into the hearth.

When he returns his gaze to me, I continue. “Another made me invisible. The last one took my sight. I remember little afterwards. I awoke from my staff entering the room and searching for me. I watched them and then left,” I explain.

He’s observing me so intently, as if he could tell truth from lies only by the tone of my voice.

“This is the most riveting tale of my existence,” he says. “And believe me, that is an impressive feat.”

The man appears around five years younger than me, maybe even ten. What sort of life does he live that he sees me like this and finds it fascinating?

I remember the strange things he said in the alley. It was all impossible.

The stranger shifts his body until his feet are planted on the floor, then leans in very closely. He stares at me intently, like he’s trying to discern something hiding inside my translucency.

“As a man of your intelligence, you surely deduced that I am no human. I believe it wasn’t by chance that I found you wandering the streets.” He leans back, looking quite satisfied, as if that explains everything. When I say nothing, he continues, “Perhaps, I am the answer you seek?”

“Pardon?”