***
When Betty awoke, she and IAN were no longer in the Colonial, but at the entrance to an alleyway lit by gaslight. She could see they were surrounded by high Gothic tenements.
Betty stumbled to her feet in shock.
“Well, hurry up, don’t dawdle. There it is, the creature, just ahead.” IAN pointed to what appeared to be a small bundle of rags which shifted as he neared it.”
Brushing off her ire at the strange man, she whisper-shouted “Maybe you shouldn’t get so close!”
Just then the bundle erupted in an explosion of long limbs and gore, flying down the alley. IAN quickly followed chase, running faster than any human she had ever seen. Before she knew it, she was alone in a strange dark place and there was nothing left to do but run after the only familiar face she had. After one or two turns, she realized she was hopelessly lost. Entering yet another alleyway that looked absolutely no different than the others she had turned down, she called “IAN?” The searching cry echoed softly in the night. “IAN?”
“Are you lost, miss? The question came from a gentiley dressed man, with a doe-eyed lady on his arm. Betty heaved a sigh of relief.
“Actually, yes. Do you think you might be able to help me? I haven’t the faintest clue where I am.”
The woman tsked. “Oh, you poor thing”. She turned toward her beau. “Surely, we can give her some assistance, dear.”
He smiled back. “Oh, I think we are duty-bound to do so.”
They came beside Betty and the woman gathered her in with a motherly hand. Betty felt herself relax for the first time since she’d entered the old Colonial. She slowly became aware that the lovely lady had buried her face in her hair and was sniffing as one would sniff a particularly fragrant rose. Betty tried to pull away, but the woman’s grip was as unyielding as iron. The gentleman cupped Betty’s chin and wrenched her head to the side, exposing the bite on her neck.
“Oh, yes, we’ll get you right where you need to be.”
The couple chuckled in unison, at some private joke as the man began peeling off the bandage, catching the blood as it wept and tasting it. He swished it around in his mouth, as if judging a novel vintage, his eyes rolling back in appreciation, when suddenly the space he had occupied was empty. Betty felt herself being pushed to the side as the gentleman struggled on the ground with another figure.
It took a few moments, but she soon saw that the figure grappling with the gentleman was IAN, fighting with the nimble skill of a hero from one of Betty’s beloved adventure books, making quick work of his opponent. However, that is where the similarity ended. IAN showed no sign of chivalry as he cold- clocked the lady, rendering her unconscious. The man roared and came at IAN with a surprising amount of energy, growling as he did so. IAN used the ferocity of the attack to his advantage, using the man’s momentum to throw him over his knee and to the ground, where he seized the gentleman’s perfectly coiffed hair, using it as leverage to smash his face into the cobblestones. Betty lost count of how many times. When her attacker had ceased to make any noise apart from gurgling, IAN finally let go. He stood up, twisting around as he did so, taking stock of the damage.
Betty was in a little awe. “Is everything okay?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, the suit is intact.”
“IAN, you never told me you could fight like that.” He shrugged. A thought occurred to her. “Why did you leave me if you knew there were things like that here?”
“I DID tell you not to dawdle.”
She gaped, “A moment before I was knocked out cold and you expected me to run from the word go?”
“No matter, the quarry has been lost, though I have a feeling that will not be the last we see our fine friend.”
“She laughed, unbelievingly. “I'm not usually that clumsy with consciousness. My apologies."
“A lady should take better care of her consciousness. People will start to talk.” Betty thought she could see the hint of a smile on his otherwise impassive face. Obviously he had either completely missed her sarcasm, or had chosen to ignore it.
She applied another bandage and patted her neck "The wound seems to be staunched. So, shall we get on with, are we...where exactly are we?"
“We are across the Multiverse in another Dimension. The one your little bat-like friend came from.”
Her long hair was sticking out at all kinds of angles and she felt decidedly disheveled. Cheeks aflame with sudden embarrassment, she tucked her hair into her collar and straightened her glasses. "I've never knowingly transferred through a bleed before. I feel in need of a strong cordial." She cleared her throat. "Or a stiff shot." He took her arm, leading her out of the alley and down a well-lit main street.
“Clothes and mannerisms befitting an older person would stand you out anyway. Here, you never age. Or you die before you get the chance.”
She thought back on the nature of her assault. "I have a terrible feeling I know where this is leading. What did you say the name of this Dimension was again?"
“I didn't, but you might want to cover that bite mark. We don't want any more locals to get the wrong idea.”
She nodded and brought her collar up higher.
They approached a particularly well-appointed dwelling residence, ivy covering the rough, gray stone. “Ah, here we are.” He opened the door with a little bit more force than expected. “These oak doors, sometimes they get a little tricky as they age.” He stepped into the foyer and beckoned her inside. She followed and despite herself, was impressed with the artwork on the walls, the comfy lived-in feeling this place exuded. This was not what she expected from such a distractible fellow. He continued up the wide staircase, obviously expecting her to follow. They reached a large door and IAN poked his head inside muttering “Yes, suitable.” and gave her a slight push into the room.
“How do you feel about corsets?”
"Personally or philosophically?"
“Both, because in this dimension, it's corsets or peasant shifts. And unless you want to look like cattle…” He strode to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, swung open the doors, snapped and pointed at the clothes inside. “It's corsets. I'll leave you to change.” He was almost out the door when Betty got her first decent look at the outfits on offer.
"You have…interesting hobbies, IAN.” Betty remarked, pushing through the beautiful parade of satins and silks.
“Whatever made you think this was my closet? Or indeed, my home? You'd actually better put a move on. The owners could be back at any time.” He said over his shoulder, just before the door clicked shut.
Five fraught minutes later, Betty joined IAN in the parlor of the house, looking slightly out of sorts and definitely out of breath.
IAN stood, appraising. “It looks better. The dress and the train are a nice addition too.”
"While I can't say it's exactly the most comfortable thing I've ever worn - that being a particularly fluffy robe - but as long as I can breathe in it, I think I'll be fine,” she said as they stepped out of the house and onto the street.
"Anyway, I DO seem to blend in more" She gestured to the passersby on the avenue not 30 feet beyond them.
“I think you might be surprised how comfortable you will find the attire. You just have to be in the right state of mind.”
"Too right. In fact..." She quickly lifted up the hem of her skirt and ripped off a piece of trimming, wrapping it around her wound. "I don't have to worry about my collar falling down now!"
“Consider yourself lucky. A few years back, the rage was skinny jeans and short shorts. Luckily their fashion tastes have reverted to nostalgia.”
"Skinny jeans? How can jeans be skinny? And aren't shorts already short by nature? I suppose one misses these little culture quirks when spending most of their time in research and libraries. I still have yet to truly utilize the internet. My understanding is that there are lot of ques
tionable sites and...cats?"
“You are the one who truly needs to be studied. Now let’s be off, I need to talk to an old friend and that is going to require the help of a dangerous redhead.”