Nora thought herself many things; intelligent, resourceful, maybe not humorous, but certainly fast on her feet. Despite all of this, as much as she despised the thought, she was still only one person with one mind, and there is only so much one person could take.

She wasn't sure how long she'd run to escape the body she'd left in her wake. Mr Greybo had yet to make another call for her on the intercom, and now that the moon had overtaken the sky, countless glistening diamonds speckling the blanket of night, she was unsure how to navigate her way to the campgrounds.

"Truly, I never thought myself this geographically challenged." She fanned herself, a hot flush having overtaken her body which grew heavier by the minute. Her mouth was bone dry, her vision distorting. Nora swung her gaze left and right, looking for any sign of civilization; when she took a step, her knees gave out and the sharp bite of rocks sent pain through her already aching body. "Saints,"

"You must rest, Miss Poyntz."

"The last thing I need to do is rest. I must find my way back to the blasted campgrounds."

"What's a fair young miss wandering 'round this late at night for?" A gravelly, aged voice drifted to Nora's ears; her body jerked and groaned at her sudden movements as her eyes landed on an old woman. "Are you alright? Looks as if you had a fright." Wrinkles lined her features, and the smile she wore highlighted her age.

"Good evening ma'am. I assure you, I'll be alright." She knew the words were foolish.

"Don't play that with me, missy. I may be old, but that don't mean I'm blind...yet." She cackled at her joke, the sound sending a chill down Nora's spine. "Let good ol' Wendy Wagbo take care of you." Wendy shuffled towards Nora who's body trembled, denying her strength.

Elijah.

What she wouldn't do to have his arrogant, egotistical, intelligent mind with her right now. The simple thought of him brought her comfort. Her stomach sank, but she forced a smile for Wendy as the woman settled beside her.

"I'll get you situated with a cup of tea that'll make you feel young as a tot again." Wendy cackled once more. Nora's smile twitched.

"Tea sounds wonderful."

***

Wendy's home was a simple cottage situated down the path; had Nora's body held out a while longer, she was sure she'd have stumbled upon it. It housed a small covered porch featuring two tiny windows on either side of the door.

Wendy moved them along into the cabin, to a room with a roaring fire in a red brick hearth. Sweat made Nora's cotton dress stick to every inch of her skin. Her muscles ached; the edges of her mind layered with a thick fog; her legs trembled as the world began spinning.

"Saints, I-I think I need to sit down for a moment."

Wendy led her to a plush, green chair, worn from the years. Nora sank into it like a sack of bricks, barely paying any mind to the old woman now.

Is it because of over exhaustion? Shock? I've not reacted to anything like this before.

Her hand lifted, and she gazed at the pasty flesh, the blue veins running beneath her skin unmistakable; it was a haunting sight.

I haven't rested since I awoke in that bus. It's no wonder my body is failing me.

Nora's heavy gaze lifted to Wendy, who now stood before her with a porcelain teacup. Her smile was sweet enough, but the look in her hazel eyes had Nora recoiling.

"Drink this, and you'll be good as new." Wendy leaned down, and Nora pulled back, sinking further into the chair. "It's my momma's secret recipe."

Nora opened her mouth to protest, but Wendy forced the cup into her hands. Pressure weighed on her chest and she stared into the light, amber liquid, sniffing; her nose wasn't working properly, the sudden illness skewing her senses.

"Thank you, Ms. Wagbo, it looks delicious." Her stomach knotted, and she hesitated before bringing the warm cup to her lips and taking a sip. She started when Wendy cackled. "If I may be so emboldened, what is it you find amusing?"

Wendy shook her head, and alarm shot through Nora's body as the edges of her vision bled to black. Her lips parted, but she lacked enough strength to muster even a vowel. Her eyelids drooped and the last thing she heard was the cackle of the old woman.

***

"Would you believe me capable of killing someone, Elijah?" Nora looked away from the window she'd been gazing out, marveling at the beauty of snowfall. The purity of the white landscape never ceased to amaze her. Elijah glanced up from his medical text, head cocked to the side, slight frown marring his handsome features. It didn't hold place long as it shifted to that of slyness akin to a fox.

"Growing tired of my presence? I regret to inform you, Miss Poyntz, you'd be in dismay if I were gone from your life."

Nora scoffed; her arms wrapped around her body, and she glanced away from her companion. "I cannot deduce how man could become so twisted as to kill innocent people." She paused, chewing on her words, "but then I tried to liken myself-"

Elijah stood from his chair, arresting Nora's attention; his smile was gone. "Let me make one thing clear, Miss Poyntz. You and a madman will never have anything in common." Nora nodded before she could think on the matter. Elijah's demeanor relaxed at the sight and he rolled his shoulders back. "To answer your prior question, I'll quote your dear Doyle." He cleared his throat, his smile returning, "'whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.'" His gaze leveled with hers, a chill settling over the room. The meaning to his words were as clear as the night sky outside.

Nora was capable of anything.

***

Nora's head throbbed as she came to. Her mouth was a barren wasteland; pain still radiated through her body. Her eyes opened, and she blinked, clearing away bleary vision, finding the same surroundings of the cottage. She jerked forward, flinching at the cruel bite of rope around her wrists.

"What in the..." her eyes scanned the wooden chair she was secured to in the center of the room. Little else seemed changed. Memories of the teacup and the woman's cackle pierced her thoughts. Nora's heart rate spiked; she pulled against the restraints, the rope leaving nasty red welts in their wake. "Where did that psychotic, cackling witch go?" A chill swept across Nora's body, followed by a wave of heat. Nausea took hold of her stomach, and she curled forward as much as the restraints would allow.

"Everything will be fine, Nora. You'll be alright."

The voice was her own and yet it sounded like a distorted, older version.

"Saints, will I be?" a small creaking noise sounded through the room and her gaze shot to the door. A moment later, it opened, revealing Wendy.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was beginning to worry."

"To what length have I been indisposed?" Nora's gaze followed the woman as she scurried about the room. Wisps of white hair fell into her aged and darkened features; she carried with her a woven basket.

"Just a few hours. Silly me for not taking into account your sickly state when I made the tea."

Nora's veins broiled under her skin. "What did you use? Opium? Laudanum? What if I had been allergic? Are you so daft as not to consider the most basic of things?"

Wendy cackled. "Haven't a clue what those are. It was a simple sedative is all."  She sets the basket on a side table beside the chair Nora had occupied before her forced slumber. "Now be a good little miss and practice patience while I prepare the kitchen."

Nora's head bowed, and she fought against her restraints with a rabid ferocity that would shock all those she knew. "Release me!" Her voice was shrill, cracking with notes of madness interlaced with fear and pain. She blamed her maddened state on her illness as rational thoughts left her body. She wanted escape, security, her home.

What have I done to deserve this hell I've found myself in?

Tears she'd worked hard to hold back streamed down her heated cheeks; heavy sobs shook her frail body, a vicious, animalistic cry sounded through the house. An obnoxious humming emitted from the kitchen, covering Nora's cries. She lifted her head, finding Wendy busy at work.

"Please, Nora, come to your senses."

Come to her senses? She'd done well to make sense of her situation, to no avail. Even if she could escape her restraints, the only way she'd escape her captor would be if the woman met her demise. Nora's body froze, and her foggy dream filtered through her thoughts. She was capable of anything. Was there not a dead vampire to prove this very fact? She shuddered from fear of herself. Her eyes landed on the woven basket only a foot away from where she sat.

Maybe,

A glance to Wendy showed the woman still humming in the kitchen. Nora opened her mouth, releasing a cry to which Wendy responded with louder humming. A smile curled Nora's mouth; she scooched her chair closer to the basket, raising her voice to mask the noise. Her mouth was tinged with a faint rustic taste by the time she made it to the basket. Nora didn't allow herself any hesitation, kicking out her bound legs; the side table tumbled to the ground. Whatever was in the basket made a shattering sound, and true to it, a translucent shard peaked from the open flap.

That's it.

Nora threw her weight forward, the chair tipping. She heard the gasp of the woman and squeezed her eyes tight, pleading with the saints above to grant her mercy as her restrained hands reached.

"My hot dogs !" Wendy shrieked, the sound followed by the stomping of feet. A moment later Nora was yanked up in her chair; she bit her tongue as glass sliced her palm, but couldn't stop the rueful smile, gripping her promise of escape. She wasted no time sawing away at the restraints.

"You should strive to take better care of your things, Ms Wegbo." Nora chastised, flinching when Wendy spun on her heel. The woman held a rolling pin in her hand, and Nora eyed it.

"And you should take care to respect other's things."

"I assure you, I do respect others things." The restraints around Nora's wrists snapped. "In fact, let me return what's yours." She jumped from the chair, the movement awkward, her ankles still bound. Wendy swung her rolling pin, and Nora lifted her arm, crying out as pain exploded in her arm. Her side came to life with pain when she fell to the floor; her hold on the glass shard tightened.

"You're mad!"

A snort passed Nora's raw throat. "I'm mad. You drugged me, restrained me to a chair, and are preparing to do lord knows what. The only one who's mad here-" There was a scream, and Wendy charged at her. Nora's hands shot up, instinct taking over. Everything slowed in that moment; the scream of anger distorted to a gasp before turning into a shrill, bone chilling one of pain. Nora's heart thudded in her chest as she opened her eyes. Warm liquid traveled down her arms. She jerked back, filling the room with a sickening, tear that would haunt her nightmares.

You're capable of anything.

Her body trembled; turning her head, she gazed upon the work she'd only ever thought she'd see from the killer of Whitechapel. Wendy stumbled backwards; tremors took hold of the woman's body as she covered the injury with her hand. The scream had fallen away from her lips, and a silence far worse replaced it, save for the occasional spit of the fire; a sick, cackle of its own.

"You-you-you-"

"Don't speak, you'll only-"

Wendy collapsed, leaving the words to dance atop Nora's tongue. A dull buzzing took over her ears as she watched the life dissipate before her eyes. She was free of her captor, but a prisoner to her actions.