Dr Jekyll and Miss Huang

Chinese MtF Hyde story with images.

London 1887

His eyes, a washed-out blue, darted nervously across the dim parlour. Gilded paper peeled from the walls. Velvet drapes, once lush, hung heavy with shipyard dust. Several women lounged on overstuffed divans, their faces painted thickly like porcelain masks eyes flat and watchful.
“Does sir wish partake?” The tall reedy voiced Chinaman was busy moving an ornament. His real name was unknown to Jekyll but he often called himself Mr Overton.
“Of the obliviating fumes? N…no… I am here to see some of the girls.” He gulped and his eyes flickered to one of the admittedly skilful erotic drawings on the wall.
“Of course. I remember you. Here you come again. And I sure it no shall be last one. “ Overton spoke English with impeccable diction for a Chinaman. He led him to the stairs. A man sat motionless on a pile of blankets. His limbs contorted as if trying to hug himself. His eyes followed them and a rictus grin appeared on his face.
“He is fine.” Mr Overton said with a smile, as he gently pushed Dr Jekyll upwards. “Remember, only one hour Dr… and remember not to spill inside her. Or I throw her on street.” 
Jekyll couldn’t hope to understand the Chinese way of life. Their quarters and streets were like a festival, food and drink, painters and craftsmen barely removed from places of gambling and sleep. Although, plenty of Englishmen seemed to enjoy it too. They were close to the raucousness of the lower classes.  He held his sleeve up to his nose as he passed more of the living dead. Some of them chewed mindlessly as they stared at the opposite wall. “Diabolic.” He said. 

The feyish oriental beckoned Dr. Jekyll into her chamber. She was young, far too young. Her hair ran all the way down her back, it was so voluminous. He stood frozen as she slipped off his pants and began to massage his penis with her soft hands. He raised his right hand slightly, thinking to push her off and leave. Then he let out a sigh and nodded. She was comely, exotic and far removed from the ghostly women in his family estate he had always felt romantic affection for.  

He struggled to talk to women, and while he often convinced himself he just didn’t have the time. His relationship with them had always been complicated. Long ago women sneered and groaned when he introduced himself. He attended many an insufferable soiree by his mother’s request. Attempts at poetry and dancing were mocked. Then when he set out on his own, he had developed a more manly build and features, but his pained early attempts left him… inept. 

Her whorish lips took in his penis like a king’s sceptre. He let out a few groans of pleasure as he came swiftly over her face, then he exhaled sharply and shook his head.
“That will very well be enough I think.”
Before he could do anything else, she stood straight up. She began playing with her vagina, gently teasing the edges and biting her lip. She made long drawn-out pleading moans. 
“God… turn around…” His lust was maddening these days. Was it his body’s way of telling him he should settle down and find a woman? Perhaps another turn was not criminal.

He fucked her with a miserable crooked face. His mind flashed images of a red-haired girl with fat breasts.  The woman below was whining in her caterwaul language but Dr Jekyll ignored her. The deed was done fairly quickly.  The woman sighed with resignation, but Jekyll said nothing as he withdrew, his seed splattering onto the floor, just as promised.

He gathered up his clothes and began to dress. The China woman was rubbing his shoulders but he gave her a fierce glare. She replied with a grope of his groin but he pushed her off. She rolled her eyes and went back to her vanity table. He left the coins on the table in the front room. Mr. Overton was speaking with one of his whores and they both laughed as soon as his back was turned. They knew just what kind of man he was, damn them.

That whore remained where he’d left her, unmoving, the coins clutched cold in her palm, her eyes tracing the cracks in the stained ceiling in the dimming candlelight. She heard the heavy door thud shut downstairs.

The gaslights hissed. Jekyll ran a hand through his disheveled, limp blond hair. London was booming these past few years. He saw nearly every nationality on earth and barely understood a word in certain parts of the city. He smiled as he heard the regular Irish tones of the florist. Her husband had left her with a little boy, but she was young, and kept a hold of the store through the skin of her teeth. Well, so he had heard the neighbours saying, he would never be so brash as to ask her about it directly. 

He really wanted to know more of her, but he couldn’t spare the time. Not until he was successful in his breakthrough. Then time wouldn’t be a factor. One time she delivered him a cake but he couldn’t muster a word for her, he simply took it.  Jekyll’s shoes clacked as he turned the corner to his door. He looked left and right for thieves and crossed the threshold. Upon making his way into the laboratory, he groaned. The evident smell of all the chemicals he had tested was beginning to grate. It would be time to move again soon.

Jekyll started violently. The scalpel clattered onto the enamel tray. The rat, mercifully unconscious now, lay still in its gore. It couldn’t be, he swore he’d purchased some male rats. Yet, this was clearly a female. He hadn't heard the door. Sir Edmund Owens stood framed in the laboratory entrance, a phantom conjured from the gloom beyond. He held an unlit cigar between his thin fingers, surveying the scene like a visiting dignitary inspecting a particularly messy battlefield. His impeccably cut gentleman's coat looked jarringly out of place against the harsh spartan backdrop.
“My word, Henry,” Edmund murmured, his tone a blend of morbid fascination and practiced flatness. “Hard at it? Like a veritable resurrection man without the bloody dignity of a moonlit graveyard. Lazarus the genius.”
“I fear these rats won’t be coming back to life. Nor shall the hundred others.” Henry said with a sigh.
“London has no shortage of rats. Only… do try not to get caught dissecting streetwalkers in your basement. Or do… at least you can sell the parts to the medical colleges eh old boy?”
Jekyll felt his cheeks flame. Edmund's insinuating tone, that whip-smart cruelty disguised as camaraderie. He'd heard those stories. He didn't believe in God, but he was no defiler of corpses. “Jokes aside boy… your delays are unacceptable. Meet me in a few days in the usual place” He didn’t wait for a reply. With a final, flippant wave, almost a dismissal - he turned and vanished back into the hallway, shutting the door with a soft, final click.

The latest medical journals and lectures had served their purpose. That is, they were completely useless. The human body was simply not meant to last forever.  Yet, in a final vain hope, he had delved into the... occult and the fringe of current science. His latest purchases from the Lascars were strange essences and plants from deep within the rainforests of Cochinchina. He’d tried every combination of wild story for his formulas in the past. Dust from temples of the Amazon blessed by goddesses. The mummified fingers of dead children from unknown parts. The concoctions of the natives of Queensland colony. All of their properties were as vague as ‘life-enhancing’ or ‘revitalization” but he never believed the ancient races were as stupid as many of his colleagues seemed to think. There were simply too many mysteries to be solved. Like how did these tribes survive while at constant warfare, but in such small numbers overall?

As Jekyll measured the formula, something irritated his eye. He brushed it away with a shake of his head. Then he put on some brass spectacles, and he shook the mixture a few times. Before long, it had turned red. No resemblance to the tar-like or colourless substances he had made earlier. This could very well kill him. He was expecting it this time, if one expects to overtake death himself, then perhaps taking a ride with him first would be a suitable irony. He imagined his heart stopping, and then a start as he was reborn.

There was enough here for a few doses. Success would presumably be measured by how much stronger he felt after finishing a few loads of the serum. He was twenty-seven, but his cloistered lifestyle had already led him to frailness.  He downed the serum. It tasted sour. He waited for effects; his body should take about half-an hour to abso….

The first bone went with a sickening, muffled crack. He had just about enough time to look down. It resonated inside him, deep within his right thigh, a grinding vibration. Pain followed a millisecond later, white-hot and blinding. He cried out, stumbling, hands flying to his thigh. His fingers encountered smooth wool of his trousers… but the shape beneath felt different.

Dr Jekyll grasped his own throat as he struggled to breathe. His lungs felt like they were full of lye and his throat flaps were closing tight. He felt a sudden hot weakness repeating throughout his body, the thermal shock urged him to tear off his rough tweed coat, then his undershirt.  He was enveloped in agony as more of his bones snapped and twisted. The sponge of his very marrow dissolving as he fell down. His flailing knocked off some of his equipment and it shattered loud enough to shift his hearing to the bare minimum, the chemicals hissing as they spread over the floor. The room seemed to grow around him as his male body shrank. Tendons and ligaments, deep within his shoulders and hips, began to fall loose. More sharp grates and ugly unnatural sounds followed, all of them like the sawing of spine and calf bones in a butcher's.

He shut his jaw as the force ripping through his skull felt like his teeth were going to pop out their sockets. His face bulged grotesquely, but slowly numbed as parts of the bone slithered around. He tried to call for help, but his throat was still constricted.  He spat out a tooth, then another one. His blue eyes began to fold and slant as the flesh around his eyes tightened, sculpting their shape, subtly pulling the corners upwards. as they became brown and almond shaped. The world was gaining edges he'd never perceived, colours hidden now revealed. His thin fingers slipped around his hair as it grew long and untamed, turning from dirty blonde to lustrous black, like a just bedded harem concubine. His jaw became less prominent, and his lips became redder and fuller.

His skin began to ooze sweat. It’s texture becoming as soft as down. His neck became slender and vulnerable, while the rest of his body followed suit as it tapered down. He made a sound somewhere between a death rattle and a squeak. His rump swelled in size. While his spine curved and twisted into a shape fit for the harshness of a woman’s labour.

Blood rushed to his penis. Pleasure pulsed in little bursts at the tip. He couldn’t help but rub it with his softening de-callousing hands. The veins bulged for a moment, yet seemed to thin and thin until they disappeared entirely.  The shriveled penis skin hung there almost as if it was empty of the meatus tissue, then it shrank down into nothingness. His testes clenched, then dissolved into jelly. Fibrous tissue stretched, dissolved, and melted into primordial cellular slurry as a canal began to burrow deep inside him. It felt like all that was there was being turned inside out through a mere keyhole. There was a sucking sound. At its head grew a tensed sphincter of bleeding muscle. Then came slickening flesh, swelled folds, bristling vascular ridges, nerves erupting, as the vaginal canal completed its formation into agony. Their pleasurable ridges rising up. Jekyll’s masculine brain tried to comprehend the cavity where hardness used to be, open to pain and penetration alike. Hot blood slicked his thighs. A chamber for a child being built deep inside, the fleshy walls growing in and lubricating. His tongue hung out as he felt contractions. That slurry that once produced sperm was repurposed into almond-sized sacs... ovaries. They formed with a sickening pop-pop, dangling now on each side of the womb. Jekyll felt them thrum instantly, puppeteered by hormones flooding newly carved ducts, already preparing for a menstrual cycle he would never comprehend. Light-headed horror swept over him as the phantom pain of their first ovulation flared, cramps.  His brain feminized as the new insides no longer felt uncomfortable. An emergent being's first feelings began to follow Jekyll. Not quite thoughts, they ran down the same pathways in the grey matter, getting faster and more frequent.
She leaned her head back as his restrain loosened. Two mounds began to grow on his chest and filled with fat and new yearning nerves. Her mouthed gaped as he saw the two vestigial nipples thicken and point, as the rings of the brown areolae widened. The completed breasts ruled over her chest.  His voice warbled as little pangs and pains still started up where they would around his body, and then he keened out high and sudden, as he felt a bang of pleasure explode at the top of the new hole below. Wonderful! Wonderful ohhh. What was such a thing called?
Finally, that flurry of activity in his brain settled. The new biochemistry providing the proverbial primordial soup to a female consciousness. He tried to speak. He needed to hear his own voice, to find terra firma in this dissolving reality.  Or... she needed to speak. It was like an urge. To be the one speaking and looking and thinking. No different than wanting to reproduce or eat. Ghostly twin sensations overlapped as the confused brain tried to remap physicality. 
“Oh my…” The alluring voice reverberated around the room. There was feeling of vigour and bliss the mixed being had never felt before. She moved her other hand experimentally, tracing the curve of her hip. Strange curves. Unfamiliar angles. His touch brushed upwards, encountering soft, warm fullness, firm hills, breasts. A gasp escaped her, a high, startled, utterly feminine sound. They ran their hands down their body and dragged their fingers through the coarse dark hair. He teased their new vaginal labia. Hm… hm.. as he sought the first strikes of pleasure. A sense of the uncanny returned.
Where was he? Her lab? Had she been here before? 
A beautiful face stared back in a nearby mirror. High, sculpted cheekbones hinted at fragility, while the exotic dark eyes… amber.. sweet brown? Had Jekyll ever noticed that in others? The nose was elegant. the lips full and gorgeously curved, though currently slack and slightly parted. Skin of sunlight shade, stretched taut over unfamiliar bone structure. His own gaze was replaced by a stranger’s eyes, glinting with intelligence. Long, jet-black hair, ruffed, yet magnificent, framed the impossible visage. The face possessed an exotic cast that whispered of faraway lands she couldn’t name. Lands that, evidently, belonged to her. He stared. The face stared back. He tried to command his reflection to change, to revert. To be Jekyll again. His reflection did not obey. It remained that beautiful, foreign mask. A wave of vertigo seized her. As she moaned more and more, someone just… woke up.

As she peeked her head out of the door, she saw a man shaking off the rain in the corridor. She 
pulled her head back in, but then a twinge of curiosity made her step her entire body out into the corridor. Her coat draped over her like a mischievous child.
“…Who are you?” Mr Capell asked, his head slightly turned away. She stared at him and nodded vacantly.
 “Well, well, I didn’t know Dr Jekyll had a thing for you… oriental types. The absolute dog! En-gli-sh dear?”
“Oriental?” She repeated instinctively, she pushed her tongue around her mouth as she still tried to comprehend the act of speaking itself.
He chuckled. “Yes, where are you from? Burma… no… China I assume? Hong Kong or Shanghai?”
“I don’t know…” She ran her left hand down her face and then looked at her hands. Her skin… It was dusky coloured. Was that right? And he was... pale. They made quite the contrast.
He raised a brow. “How queer… but you don’t have an accent… do you have a name…?”
She played with her wavy black hair. Her brain quickly began to churn. Jekyll? But that didn’t seem right…. her mind flashed to a newspaper written about a seaman that he had picked up the other day. He? Was she a sea man? No, no… she was most definitely a she.
 “Miss… Huang.” She said in her soft voice, her mouth wriggling. She paused, as if there was nothing to add, then looked aside at the foyer mirror. She caught glimpse of herself and knew it beyond doubt. She was perfect.
“Well, my dear. If you come by in the midday Sunday my sister is always chattering away with her friends. I’m sure I could entertain you with a bit of tea and share stories of Shanghai.” He smirked. “I’m sure I’m far better at storytelling than Mr Jekyll.” He adjusted his collar and winked, before hanging his coat on the hanger and ascending the stairs.

Miss Huang was left helpless in the corridor. What should she do? She made her way out into the street. Horrid thunder raged overhead as she stood blank faced. A name rung in her ears. Jekyll… she was Jekyll. Or he was her? Jekyll had been unborn and she had been put in his place. Or he was a twin brother? He took control first, and so she was denied precious life. She looked around her as she tried to put a name to everything she saw. Interesting.

Jekyll came to life in the chair. He staggered to his feet, wincing at the chorus of complaints clamoring from his body - knees stiff, shoulders locked, ribs sore. He needed water. He reeled towards the sink basin, catching sight of his reflection in the burnished copper hood above it – blurred, distorted, but reassuring. Pale, haggard, eyes shadowed, hair a darkest brown tangle. He blinked and his hair was dirty blonde again. What...

He thrust his hands under the cold tap, splashing water onto his face, scrubbing furiously. The chill was bracing, grounding. He filled a grimy tumbler and drank deeply, trying to wash away the lingering metallic taste.. Spitting a mouthful out, he finally dared a proper think, an analysis.
His mind was fuzzy at first, but then the meandering of the last few hours came forth. A few hours… in a body not his own. As he placed his hands on the desk, his eyes darted around wildly. He looked down at his naked body. His breathing slowed as he remembered the weight of breasts. The tingling of long hair on his shoulders. He looked around the floor at the black hair spread in clumps all over it. Impossible, it was surely a dream. It seemed like an event from a mythological tale. But had he not been delving into the mythological? He let out a sharp laugh.

What it could be? Had he discovered long lost alchemy? Real magic, transfiguration! He’ll be an icon, Jekyll the sorcerer. Like the famous borderer Michael Scott.  He touched his head, then looked at his behind and arms. He put fingers around his penis and testes. Perfect condition, no lacerations or deformities...flawless. He had to recreate the effects! He chuckled nervously. Had he really changed into a woman? Or was it some hallucination produced by the formula? Best not to jump to conclusions. Science will brighten the path. He had to try it again. Although, perhaps some preparation was in order. 

He would buy some woman’s clothes and hopefully she would try to wear them. She is perhaps like a new-born, curious about the world. Perhaps even… she simply is him, other parts of his mind, primitive or otherwise, given a new outlet. The purchase was made quickly and with a gambit of excuses. Just a basic dress, he was no expert on fashion and so he bought what he had seen local ladies wearing. Now this female creation could explore London as she saw fit.

He stripped down to the nude and lifted the glass up. Nervousness wracked his mind. This will only cause you pain Jekyll. Drop it on the floor. Drop it on the floor and never speak of it again. Then again, what kind of scientist would he be if he let such things stayed buried? No, he was the first for a reason.  It was almost as if he was chosen. He closed his eyes and drank the formula again.

He tapped the table, then let out a sigh. A fluke. Just as he was about to return to his notes, he screamed in agony as his arms and wrists began to contort again. He raked his fingernails against the door as he leaned against it, dragging himself down to the floor. Soon his voice was straining between the pitch of two sexes. As it grew into a high-pitched soprano moan and then stabilized into the attractive voice of Miss Huang.

She stumbled around in a daze before noticing the clothing on the bed. A withering echo of her own voice spoke. Who was it made for? An instinctual femininity scoffed. Only a man could have chosen this. It lacked elegance, the colours are plain. This clothing wasn’t hers; it was Jekyll’s. She considered walking out naked, baring her body in the street… but that probably wasn’t safe. She saw how that taller person, the man looked at her in the hallway. His eyes glaring at her breasts, the nipples as they protruded. 

A memory of a memory took her to a part of London that she really wanted to see. Sha-shadwell? She was constantly stared at as she wandered. Some of these white-faced people would pull the corners of their eyes with their fingers, as if to make fun of her.  Horses and carriage driver snorted and cursed her as they passed by and she dodged between them. She was bombarded by a new set of salacious smells. The symbols on all the signs around her changed. The symbols were complicated, but beautiful. She was fascinating by the comings and goings of these people who looked like her. She didn’t understand what they were saying and it seems they didn’t understand each sometimes either. There was a lot of dancing and arm movements as they tried to point or make sense of things. She wanted to spend longer here, but the clothes itched at her skin.

As she passed into the boundary of another district. Many children laughed and run around her as they passed by her, some of them tugged and poked at her ill-fitting clothes and she had to brush them away. As a fresh wash and pungent smells mixed in her nose. She started to see groups larger than any so far, and noticed there were few women in those groups. Mostly men loading cargo. She found herself fascinated by the sweat dripping off their large well-built arms. Some of the men seemed to stare at her with the same fascination. By some instinct, she thrust her chest out and giggled.

She looked into the window of a nearby shop. Clothes? Beautiful unique clothes. She placed her hand on her chest as her mouth slowly drooped open. It was pure white, and there were so many flowers… and those golden borders! Gorgeous, it needed to be worn and displayed to the world. Then people would look at her for the right reasons, and those droll ghost-faced people and their dull filthy rags would be put to shame.
She struggled with the heavy door. The woman cocked her head and then said something in the language they had been speaking on the street. Miss Huang shook her head in frustration and pointed at one of the pieces of clothing on a stand. 

The woman kept talking in her language and eventually Huang replied. “Money?” 
The old woman nodded rapidly. Yes... tokens for things... that's all that mattered to her. Huang riffled around in her pockets but didn’t find anything. The woman stared and gave her a few moments, then her eyes narrowed. She shooed Huang out onto the street with both hands and tutted at her.  Miss Huang looked back and pouted. “But... I want it now.” How can I get things quicker? 
Upon returning to the house, she saw a fine-faced young woman. She had such intricate colourful clothing compared to the people out in the dark streets. She locked eyes with her and nodded. How she would love to own clothing like that. This was unbearable. She had a silly thought, what if she just pushed her over and stripped it from her? That would be exhilarating! Then another voice in her head shouted “That is not lawful. That is not fair. That would cause her pain.” Well, those things would be true, but she would be happy.
She sat down in the chair and pondered. When she looked at those tall brawny men earlier, it felt so tingly down below. What would happen if she played with it? She pushed her fingers into the slit between her legs and searched for the source of the heat, she jumped as she touched on a small bump.  Under the little hood was a red nub. She touched it and let out a little yelp. It was so pleasant. She wanted more, and so she rubbed, touched it again and again. More and each time she felt fantastic. She felt the lips get wet, and just as something was ready to explode. Her ribcage felt like it was going to shatter. bones brushing up against organs. 

“Wha…what is happening to me?” She screamed with her mouth bunched up.
Her sore little nub began to redden and thrum. It was pushing out, becoming something dangly, and long.  It didn’t want to be her nub anymore. It wanted to penetrate, to fuck. She clutched at her breasts as they started sinking back into nothingness. In response, the thing between her legs grew stiffer and harder. She looked in disgust at the bald testicles and aroused dwarf penis. Yet, she felt the urge to tense it as she was taken over by the spirit of male eroticism. She grimaced as rough hair began to grow in on her face and around the sack. It was so dry, so painfully stuck. Horrible thing... but I need to... ughhahh. She rubbed two fingers along the penis, not entirely sure what she was doing at first, then more confidently as if she had done in ten thousand times before. Images appeared of breasts, big and hanging. Not her own. Her eyes started to roll to the back of her head as the tip exploded in pure pleasure, but nothing came out except clear fluid. Her panting turned to sobs as her body metamorphosed one more part at a time. She felt a rush of strength return to her arms. She enjoyed that at least. Her lips became thinner and dryer, and the skin around her eyes shifted as they became wide and Caucasian again.

Jekyll blinked as he looked straight down the eye of his erect penis. His waited breathlessly for it to go down. He could still feel shifting and small murmurs all over his body. He felt like a grotesque sculpture mid-revelation, his male form actively defaced. Worse yet... it felt like the transformation back took longer this time. Although, who could count the seconds in such a storm of senses?
What to think of this? I remember more this time. I travelled to Shadwell and tried to buy clothing. This diversion is so personal… and dangerous. Yet perhaps this is my destiny. I’ve not found immortality, but something almost as world-changing, and I am at the centre of it. 

As he stepped out into the corridor, he stumbled across Roger Capell. He tried to hold down a sigh. 
“Oh-ho Jekyll. How does it fair?” His smile widened.
“Very well... very well” His voice broke into a momentary squeak. Why couldn't he look him in the eyes?
 ”We’ve seen that sweet thing you’ve been keeping in your room. A bit of the old yellow eh?” He whistled. “Marvellous creatures are they not?” The man was truly a dolt and a womanizer.
“Oriental?” Is he speaking of the woman created by the formula? But why is she Oriental? Another inadvertent side-effect perhaps. Hm.. he had visited with the Chinese whores before he tested out his formula. Perhaps something that had something to do with his transformation? A potential causal link.
“Jekyll?” Roger said.
“Hm yes?” He replied.
“I seemed to have lost you for a moment there. Care to explain your guest?” He raised a brow. 
“Oh, she is not a whore. She is an assistant of mine. Fetches deliveries and materials.” Jekyll said as he grabbed his hat.
“Not a whore eh? Never said she was. But, my lovely golden-haired sister will be pleased with that.” He paused and then nodded with a self-satisfied smile. 
“You know, she has taken a fancy to you. You and your gleaming blue eyes she says.”
Jekyll inhaled deeply. “I’ve not even seen her… besides…. I mean, I have no time for such pursuits.”
“Right right, your experiments… but time for whores eh? Not to worry, you’re a real man. Not a tame house-cat like myself.” He flicked his eyes upwards. 
“I’m not seeing any…” Jekyll sighed. It was be seen as lie if he kept up the protests. Roger clapped his hands and grinned. “I better be on my way before the banshee screams. Thankfully she's off to manage some affairs in the country soon. Then the house cat will become a leopard. Have a good evening, Dr Jekyll.” Jekyll tipped his head. He watched the neighbour walk away, his eyes focused on his buttocks.
He did his business about town, sometime stopping to browse the memories of the night before. After wandering and pondering the strange side effects, he stopped at a little coffee house. Then, he began to write into his journal.

September 1887
I have considered why my female self has manifested with an oriental nature. Did I perhaps ingest something, or contaminate the potion with some of their humours from the whore’s den? Could it be the potion ingredients themselves? Hm, but herbs are herbs, they have no connection to nation or ethnicity. I heard of a lecture a couple of decades passed at the Natural History Society of Brunn, by a fellow from the Austrian Empire. Speaking of traits and inheritance, not too dissimilar to Darwin. Perhaps the formula absorbed something from the Oriental woman? Tomorrow, I shall drink the concoction again. I shall drink it again… and I will see what we do.
 

Jekyll clutched his stomach and tried to wish this monstrous pain away. It felt like he was losing access to each sense one by one. Lethargy set in, like he stopped caring about his life, about everything but wanting his chest to grow. One blink and a moan later and Miss Huang sprung up from the floor. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and grinned in pure delight. This time there was no stuffy clothing blocking her sight, just the free and beautiful breasts she had been gifted with.

This time she was determined to buy some of the actually desirable clothing in the shop. So she did... and the look on that woman when she bought two, or perhaps three pieces of clothing, Curious though, as she walked in there she bumped straight into a strange looking man outside the door. No.. not strange looking. In fact, they were particularly similar. “Ni hao.” The man said. He seemed to stall upon seeing her.
“Oh.. hello?” His eyes were shaped like hers. His jaw was… symmetrical and covered in deep stubble. This was pleasant.  
“You… hm.. seem confused” He thumped his cane on the floor.
“Apologies. I don’t speak your language.” She said.
“A native? I would call you liar, but if no for the way you speak.” The man’s eyebrow arched, ever so slightly. The flicker of surprise was quickly masked by polite interest. He had smoothly switched to calculated English, tinged with a measured exoticism. “My apologies, madam. You, if I may say, rather conspicuous. And exceptionally... well-preserved. I mistake you for one familiar with old tongues.”
She blushed. “What are you doing here?”
“I look for gift for… a friend. I was told shop-owner here is the only one who imports what I need.”
A memory flashed as she looked at one of the nearby entrances. She pointed. “In there you can find Bengal silk from India. Much cheaper, they also sell herbs... useful exotic ingredients.” 
“Ah silk, Queen of fabrics. I suppose woman would know. I go and take peek eh?”
He stared into her eyes. “You seem rather informed. I would love to talk with you.”
She stared back. “Where?”
“There is café named the Beckinsale. And also, name of the ship I ride in on. Around the corner is tea house. Chinese on the sign. Look to the end of this street. We could meet there tomorrow?” He gestured with a flip of his hand in the direction he was speaking about.
There was that odd cold flutter in her chest. “I…I..uhm…perhaps…”
“Wonderful. I look forward see you. I miss female company.” He tipped his hat. “Good day”. She stared at him all the way down the street. 
She smiled and wondered what else a woman like herself should have? The many ladies she passed in the street seemed to smell quite nice. Not like these other white-faced people. They smelled like an open wound. If she wanted to fit in, she couldn’t be caught with such a beastly stink!
She entered the perfume shop. She stopped in the entrance and closed her eyes. There were a thousand aromas here, more than men could smell or make sense of. She was sure of that. She spent an apparent eternity sniffing the tiny vessels, burners and plants. Her reverie was interrupted by a harsh crowing nearby. The woman who owned the shop was arguing with a customer.
 She glanced around her every which way and saw a crystal bottle. She looked back and saw the woman was still arguing, she hadn’t even noticed her. Would it not be so easy…? She felt a rush of embarrassment. This belongs to someone else! I can’t just take it. But… yesterday she had felt so sour when she couldn’t purchase that clothing. Surely it would be acceptable to avoid giving herself such terrible and cruel feelings again! She glided over to the shelf. The old woman looked up counter as she saw the door slam. Miss Huang held the stolen perfume close and gave a mischievous grin. Wonderful! The first of my collection. She stared away into the room and leaned down with one elbow on the chair arm.

The world returned to Henry Jekyll like a butcher’s slap. He didn’t wake. He reconstituted. 
He had spent nearly a day as his other self. He peered at the window. Yes, nearly a day. He dragged himself over to the table and scribbled into his journal.

September 1887, Saturday.
From my pocket I pulled a bottle of quite dear perfume earlier. I certainly did not lay the money out for this. After concentrating, the certain truth revealed to me that it was stolen by Miss Huang. He would never even contemplate such a thing normally.  Was she noticed? I feel like she wasn’t but then if she had been seen in area… perhaps he should avoid letting her out for a while. 
The moment he thought that, he felt a tightness in his chest, and a thumping scream in his head. She is not a person, I am merely confused and lost in the novelty of the body, but there are no aspects. Just the one... only the one.

 
Stepping out into the morning he coughed from the monstrous London air. Across the way, the florist jostled for competition with the other street sellers. He studied her rosy lips and pale perfect skin. She had a tone of the voice that told the world she could do no wrong. Jekyll felt a burst of confidence. Time to introduce myself. As he stepped closer, he felt a fresh wave of shame, hot and sour, rise from his gut. He imagined what she saw half the time, a disheveled man, trembling inexplicably, his expensive coat smelling of the brothel incense and cheap perfume. 
“Doctor. Doctor? You alright there?” she said, her voice soft. “Missus Higgins from next door… she said she heard an awful crashin’ last night. Like someone… fallin’. And screaming?” Her eyes searched his face
“A… a seizure,” he blurted, the word harsh in his throat. Then he realized she may not be educated enough to know that word. “I mean, I have moments of weakness… I suffer from them. Infrequently.” He tried to force his voice into calmness, to be reassuring, Doctorly. “The crash was… my chair. I often become fatigued working late.” He gestured vaguely towards the main door.
She didn’t move. Her gaze wasn’t judgmental, though. It held kindness. “Weaknesses?” She said the word sadly. “My uncle had them. They fair wore 'im down.” She stepped closer, her boots soft on the tiles. The scent of bruised leaves intensified. Something alive and green. Heh, would it be poetic to think how utterly alien to the chemical sterility that surrounded him that was? “Are ye… needin’ anything for the pain? A bit of willow-bark tea, perhaps? I’ve some fresh.” 
Jekyll's mouth opened and paused, he didn’t want to appear a fragile man to this Irish woman. They were a hardy people who lived just about everywhere. He quickly pointed at the purple flowers on the table. “Highland Campions?”
“That it is so. How d’yer know that?” She leaned over the stall and smiled. Up close, her skin was naturally bloodless and freckled like many of her nation.
“My grandmother was Scottish. She often spoke fondly of such flowers.”
“Ooo well I’ll be. Not much romantic fer a woman though. Everyone prefers roses. It's me big seller.”  She cut some of the flowers as she waited for a response.
“I’ll buy some for my… auntie. She likes to keep them all over the house.”
She handed him the flowers and took his money. She then gave him a quick smile and seemed to be looking around for the next customer. He staggered on the spot, and her hand darted out instinctively, catching his arm. He looked down at her hand on his arm, then into her upturned face, those startling green eyes wide with surprise and lingering worry.
“Goodbye.” As he turned around, he dragged his feet for a moment and then felt in his pocket. It would not be wise to keep this. I shall give it away as a gift. That moment he turned he thought he heard the smallest whine of protest in his head. “Mine.” He shrugged it off and presented the perfume. She gave him a doubtful but playful look. “What would that be then sir?”
“A gift for a fine lady who works hard.” His expression sweetened as she obviously realised he was serious.
“Not as much as you sir. This… this looks like it’d take a year of workin’. I can’t…”
“For a lady who deserves it. Please, I shan’t accept no for an answer.” He thrust it forward. Her expression read almost as one of sadness to him. She gently placed it under her counter and spoke right to him.
“Well, would such a generous gentleman have a name?” She stood up a bit taller.
“Jekyll…Dr Henry Jekyll.” He lifted up his chin.
“Thank you. I’m Róisín. Don’t stay away too long Dr. Jekyll...” She smiled with a blush. As walked with his head still high to his door he realised how long since he’d felt like he deserved a woman. What a marvelous feeling it was. 
He cursed and coughed as he entered into the foyer. A proper looking but small blonde, bounded down the stairs towards him. Oh my, her petticoat was gorgeous! I mean… to say…think she was gorgeous!
 ”Mr Jekyll! Mr Jekyll! I wonder if you’d like to take tea with us tomorrow night.” She lightly jumped from the final two steps. Her eyes beamed as they looked at him.
“It's Doctor, and I’m afraid not sorry. I have other business.” 
“Oh, I understand. You’re dedicated to your science then. Maybe next time.”  She frowned.
Other business? Why did I say that? He turned upwards to call after her but she had already left his sight.
Further thoughts were interrupted as he felt spontaneous excitement building in his gut.  He was glad to be home, but not for relaxation but… because he wanted to take the formula again. I suppose this was indeed ‘other business’. Alas, he was running out of ingredients. This would have to be the final time for a while. He sat back in the chair then slowly nodded off as the changes took hold. 

Miss Huang’s eyes flickered open and she rubbed her body and dusky breasts, purring happily. She gasped as her groin split open to the air and feeling came in where it wasn't a minute ago, she felt the lips burn. Her furious rubbing stopped and she groaned in annoyance. Jekyll… the other part of her, he had given away her perfume. Ghastly, but it was fine, she had taken away his time and money. She was curious about their relationship. Twin brother seemed wrong now. They looked different. Mayhaps they both influenced each other? She didn’t like that. She wanted the greater share of that. She threw out the old clothing. This was Jekyll’s, but this dress, that was hers. What did the handsome man call it? A qi-pao? She inspected herself in the mirror. They should definitely have a nice conversation now. But she needed something else, something told her that this wasn’t enough. She was plain, and could look much better...

The shopkeeper, Mr. Ainsworth, a man whose natural suspicion had been worn down by decades of posh promises and aristocrats who didn't need to steal, found himself disarmed. Her clothes were strange, a man’s dark wool coat far too large for her delicate frame, but underneath he glimpsed the edge of fine silk… perhaps a Chinese dress? Expensive. Her skin… exotic. Sun-kissed gold. And her eyes… Lord above, those eyes held a odd kind of beauty. Like a fairy from an old book, not of the same world. A diplomat’s mistress? A wealthy traveler's chattel? Whoever she was, she intrigued him. “I want to see your best.” She said. He blinked, as if confused she was speaking to him in such English.
“Uhm... certainly, my dear,” he said, puffing out his chest slightly. He bent to unlock the case. Years of careful training didn’t vanish entirely, however. He kept his own reflection between her and the shop’s entrance as he lifted some objects. The pearl shimmered beautifully under the lamplight. “Exquisite, isn’t it? Fine Jaipur silver, and the pearl… a South Sea beauty. Quite unique.”
She held out her hand. Her fingers were long, elegant, the nails uneven and bitten short, unadorned. An odd contrast to her beauty. She didn’t reach for the necklace, she simply held her hand palm-up, expectant, an offering.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, the professional warring with the captivated. He placed the heavy, cool sphere into her waiting palm. Her fingers closed over it instantly, possessively. He expected delight. A womanly sigh of pleasure. Instead, she laughed. Bright, sharp, utterly devoid of mirth. Her head tilted back, revealing the slender, golden line of her throat. Her big captivating brown fairy eyes.
The pearl slithered from her open fingers and hit the polished mahogany counter and then the floor with a high, discordant tinkle. Mr. Ainsworth cried out instinctively, lurching down and forward, his gaze snapping down to the pearl, miraculously unbroken, gleaming back up at him. He fumbled for it. He was an old man. It took perhaps two seconds.When he looked up, clutching the necklace, the woman was gone. So was the cheaper, but not inexpensive emerald necklace on the counter. God damn.

As Miss Huang walked double pace on the cobbles she smirked, canines bare. She played with the emerald necklace. Yes! This was beautiful. How did she do that? She wasn’t a thief. Heh, well Jekyll wasn’t a thief. But I’m Miss Huang. Miss Huang is a good thief. Hm.. but the pearl. She wanted that too. How unfortunate. There were some many precious objects. To get them all, the shopkeeper would need to be out of the way. Hm... curious. Absolutely not, he is an innocent old man. A tiny voice said. But he is so old... If he were to die, it would be no great loss. No great loss at all, he was about to die anyway. That's for him to decide not you. Miss Huang pouted.

Miss Huang braced against the wind as she waited for the stranger, the one she had met the other day. She wore her new necklace. It should be pleasing to the stranger. After all, his features were very pleasing. Very pleasing indeed. He had broad shoulders... and the suit really made him stand out amongst the malnourished crowds of the poor. 

The tea house was full and so they went back to the Beckinsale. It stood like an island of polished brass and mahogany amidst the docklands' grime. Gaslight glowed warmly on starched linen tablecloths. The other patrons, ship’s captains, clerks, minor merchants, stared openly as he settled her into a plush booth.
“Tell me of yourself.” She sipped at the coffee. He blew gently on his, then took a sip too.
“I work as diplomat sometimes, and I suppose started as negotiator with the East India Company.”
The meaning of that seemed apparent to her. Many more things did so than her previous days.
“A true enterprise, some say they were like a country onto themselves.”
He scoffed. “We are practically hostages to British because of them. Diplomat... an empty title..” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. 
“Sometimes hostage and spy are two things to be confused” She said. 
“You are right. Anyways… let us not ruin our first conversation with these bitter thoughts.”
“Didn’t we speak before?” She tilted her head.
“That wasn’t a conversation.” He replied. She giggled and shook her head.
“I don’t understand. But, tell me more of these enterprises?” She stared at him intensely. 
“Palm oil. The Europeans are eager to tear apart unprepared peoples of Africa. They are peeling away flesh of earth to reveal precious bones beneath.”
“Grotesque.” She smirked then she furrowed her brow. “...What can we use Palm Oil for?”
“Cleaning machines… and people. Hair that is.” He said flatly.
“Perfume?” Her eyes widened.
“Possibly. I suppose some chemist would need to look into it.”
“I want to start a business.” She said. He laughed, a bit of coffee dribbling down the side of his mouth. “You joking?” She shook her head. He held a knuckle on his lips and then pointed at her.
“You so unlike the Chinese women at home. They only fawn and comb their hair. Truly unique breed.” Miss Huang’s hands shook a bit and she half-turned her head.
“You embarrass me. I have barely said anything.”
“Do I? Please tell me though. How you become so educated?”
She pressed her lips in as she tried to think of a convincing excuse. “Luck.”
“Intelligence is the opposite of luck.” He laughed. “May I press again?” She looked around the environment but there was nothing there to help her this time. “Books… wha… what else?”
“Books... I suppose that your answer suffices.” The edges of his mouth twitched.
“One rarely encounters young woman of your... distinction,” Mr. Liu began, stirring his coffee, “roaming Limehouse unaccompanied, wearing that.” His gaze lingered pointedly on the ill-fitting coat cuff peeking from her silk sleeve. “So daring. Tell me, Miss Huang, from which province does your family hail? Your complexion suggest southern grace - perhaps Guangdong, Fujian?”
Miss Huang’s mind blanked. Province? Guangdong? Names on a map Jekyll might have studied, utterly devoid of meaning to her. Panic threatened the edges of her control. She swallowed, conjuring scorn instead. “London suffices.” At that, he gave something like a smirk.
“Forgive me, my nature lead to me to seek out all information before making decision. And in fact, I have…” She stared at his lips and mustache as he said something.
“Would you like to take a photograph? The gallery should still be open.”
“A… photograph?” Her head tilted with curiosity.
“A great construction, Miss Huang. It allows one to take image of one’s life forever. Many families do, sometimes in life, sometimes for death.” She liked that. She wanted this moment with Mr. Liu to last forever. “At home, I believe they would never. They would say a camera can steal your soul.” She sighed internally. If there are two souls in her body, perhaps the camera could take the male one. She thought of Jekyll's horror at such a thing. It could prove their terrible situation, shown to the police perhaps. But the temptation to have such a piece of herself. To prove her existence beyond terrified memories pounding around Jekyll's skull. It was too much.”
“I would very much like one. Let's go immediately.”

The photographer looked at them and blinked. Mr. Liu slightly shook his head.
“Yes we know we know, funny looking eyes. Please take photo of us.”
“Well… keep your eyes open… heh…heheh.” Mr. Liu sighed and tapped his cane on the floor.
“They are open now.”
“Are yer sure mate? I can’t start until you open them. It'll mess the whole bloody thing up.”
“I don’t think that…” Mr Liu shuffled his feet.
“Oim just ‘avin a laff. One moment.” Mr. Liu clamped a hand on her shoulder. The photographer shoved some flowers into her hands. Then he was back at the camera.
“Wait, we aren't.." Mr Liu tightened his hand and she got the idea.
“He’s right, this expensive, so don’t close your eyes.”
She desperately held her eyelids up as cranking noise whirred. Then a poof of smoke emerged. He rose. Miss Huang stood too quickly, swaying slightly. He grabbed her and their eyes met. Then, she felt the strongest feeling since her birth, a ferocious yearning to possess this man, this anchor in a world she half-knew. She needed his worldliness, his understanding of the skin she wore. He let go of her and headed over to the white man.
“I will come get it.” He wrote down something for the photographer.
Liu gave another precise nod. “Until next time, Miss Huang. Come find me here at the Beckinsale again soon? We can laugh at this photograph. Hopefully we both look good.” He smiled and then turned and walked towards the street. She watched him go until the fog swallowed him, leaving only the spice of sandalwood trailing behind.
 
Inside Jekyll's cold laboratory, she used his signet ring as a seal, hardening the wax with her breath. Before the familiar pain began to gather in her joints, a bitter, brittle certainty returning as her sovereignty over the body waned, she wrote:
 
Dear Dr. Jekyll, 
I encountered a true Gentleman today. Refined. Powerful. Generous. I’m going to meet him more often. I hope you don’t mind?
Miss Huang

 Jekyll read through a journal entry on his lap. She has given herself a name… and she asks permission of me as if she were my sister or daughter. Interesting... so, she wants to communicate. I’ll leave her a message too. As the quill hovered something sank in his stomach. This all seems too wrong. I’m writing a letter to another person. But… we are the same aren’t we? Ludicrous.

Dear Miss Huang.
I am glad you are making friends. Do be wary of our rather tenuous arrangement. Stay safe at night, avoid bad areas. And if you feel yourself disappearing, stop what you are doing, no matter what it is. Enjoy yourself.
Yours, Dr. Jekyll.

 “Mornin’,” she said, her Irish lilt cutting through the damp air. She paused her flower arranging. “Bit nippy to be wanderin’ about in just rags, eh?”
He looked down. What happened? His throat clenched. He tried to form words, any words. Nothing came but a faint croak. He sounded like a strangled cat. She reached under her cart and pulled out a small, chipped enamel mug. With careful movements, avoiding crushing blooms, she leaned over and snipped a few chamomile heads from a larger bundle. She dropped them into the mug. Holding it out towards him, she gave a small, weary smile.
“Here. Blessed thistles won’t warm yer, but a sip of the chamomile might soothe whatever ails yer. Can’t have ye keeling over before the day’s even started, can we?” Her gaze swept over him again, taking in the ripped edges of the sack. “Looks like ye had a rough night. Trouble find you?” There was no judgment, only a bit of street savvy amusement mixed with pity.
“Yes,” Henry managed, his voice raspier than intended. He cleared his throat. “Apologies, Róisín. My thoughts were... elsewhere.” He forced himself to meet her eyes - wide, green, and currently filled with puzzlement. How… how did he end up here. Why was he almost naked?
“It's alright Dr. Jekyll. It's alright.” She said. He wandered in a sleepy warm haze back to his room.

 The Capell man was on the staircase again. His curly short hair was finely cut today. 
“Ah, so nice to see you again.” Miss Huang pretended not to notice at first and then opened her mouth into a wide smile. He always seems to be at home. He must be very rich to not work. A pleasing quality. Very pleasing indeed. One so rich would be worth knowing. Think of what he could buy her.
“We are meeting for tea tomorrow morning. Perhaps Jekyll would like to join us? Do tell him won’t you?”
She gave a practiced regal laugh. “It would be nice for him to go to another place. I’m afraid it’s either the desk or the bed for him. But upstairs would be a start.” 
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” He stared at her with amusement as if expecting something.
“Excuse me?” She raised a brow.
“Uhm... Suppose you’re not of the educated sort of Chinese. Nevermind.” She smiled politely. He was obviously enamored by her beauty, and so was speaking nonsense.
“Let's get the man out and about. I’ll nail the invitation to the door if that’s what it takes. Good evening, Miss Huang.” He winked and then rushed past her.

Jekyll gasped as he remembered even more than last time. Rather than another life, the woman he became felt more like another state of his personality. Not dissimilar to drunken intoxication. He had worn Huang’s undergarments, draped unknowingly below his loosened waistcoat underneath his coat yesterday. He could feel them again now, they felt so soft and right. Hmm... it was almost a pain to peel them off. They were nice to feel and pinch. His penis started to harden as it rubbed against the fabric. He shook his head and quickly tossed away in disgust.

“Where in blazes have you been?” Sir Edmund boomed the moment Jekyll opened his front door later that evening. He pushed past, leaving a swirl of wet wool and tobacco in his wake.
Sir Edmund shook. Disbelief mingled with profound irritation. “Your neighbours say you’ve been making exotic acquaintances. “ He followed closely. “Three months! Quarterly results, lad! Where is my Panacea? Where is the phial that will turn these old bones to bloody nubile flesh?” He tapped the top of his thigh. “My physicians tell me rot is setting into this leg.” 
“I have a formula.” Jekyll said. One that you can’t possibly comprehend… or would want.
“I’ll meet you at the pub Tuesday ten sharp to speak of compelling viability. Demonstrable, and working. You have until then.” He sighed.  “Eternal youth!? More like eternal bloody dithering.” He left without further farewell, leaving Jekyll rubbing his temples. Fool, I am a creator of life. Two people in one body. How could you understand?
Miss Capell was looking down from the upstairs door. She let out a squeak and ducked inside when she was noticed. He felt a presence groan deep within, it was attentive, as if two minds were thinking at once. He ripped off an invitation from the door. An invite for tea at eight sharp the following night. Wonderful.... just wonderful. People are already suspicious of him. Perhaps appearing like a good neighbour will keep the nosy ones to themselves. Out of his work.

Make-up and rosebuds. Hm.. pale make-up.  These were truly a women’s tools. She could use more of these. Miss Huang quickly swiped a tin into her purse. She'd gotten good at this. She coughed and barely made it out the door without stumbling and falling. So weak… she had felt like fainting all day. What was happening to her? It was like she was… wearing away. Ending. She'd hardly had a moment of time... a little moment more. I need more formula. It is my blood, my nourishment. It made me, it can keep me alive. I know… I can read Jekyll’s journals again. Aghhh….aghhh, she clutched her side and bent over. Must return home NOW.
 
Jekyll once again found himself wearing women’s undergarments. It seemed not much time had elapsed, not much time at all. Nothing had changed in the room except some tins of make-up on the bench. Was her purchase in his mind weakening? Was the formula finally wearing off as it were. He felt upset, his face contorting. My beautiful Chinese sister. I... no... this experiment is over. But.. how could I let her die? I don't deserve to die. Sister.... damnit, speaking of, I'm due to meet Mr. Capell and sister tonight. He quickly slipped on some trousers and formal shirt and bounded up the stairs.
 
Jekyll sat cross-legged. His mother told him that this was a womanly habit, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable otherwise these days. The dining room blazed with the light from their fireplace. The table was set with silver and crystal.
“Would you believe me if I said I seek the elixir of immortality?”
The Capell brother laughed. He groaned, this was going to be a long evening.
“Have you tried looking in Queen Victoria's blooms?”
“Brother!” Miss Capell shouted from the kitchen. He cackled. Jekyll gave the faintest of smiles. 
“You can't blame me for that one! The woman is older than the hills.” He smirked.
“How did your family arrive in London?” Jekyll asks.
“Our family is from Northern landed gentry, but we’ve been educated here. I rarely return to the manor grounds unless father’s health wanes.” Roger says. 
“I miss the bird songs, and the willow trees.” The blonde beauty sighed as she came in with some roast meat.
“Well… quite.” Exciting. The Huang instinct was giggling, rolling her eyes, and whispering her desires. This girl is foolish, but we should marry her. If they are as rich as they say. Then perhaps I can finally buy some pearls. Jekyll jerked his head as he looked to the side. He swore he heard a few words whispering in his ear.
“Have you seen the candies shop round the corner? They have lavender.”
“Do be quiet sister. The doctor has more on his mind. He's a mind of reasoning. Science!” She instantly looked away. He felt strange. Sorry for her, but also aroused at the man's mistreatment of her. I am better than her. Prettier than her. A seductive voice whispered. She deserves such treatment from the man. He felt a small rise in his penis before he quickly tried stuck his hands on his lap to shake the lust. Thankfully Roger supplied further topic.
“This... elixir of immortality lark. Sounds like an old pirate's tale. But if you found it, you'd be the most powerful man in the world” Mr Capell said as he leaned back into the chair.
“I don't think anyone should live forever. Our lot is so terrible. People are meant to die.” She says.
“A woman's lot is terrible, of course you'd say that sister.” Those words made Jekyll instantly anger. What does he know about being a woman? This man is pleasing to look at, but he is incapable. Unable to even feed himself without his sister.
“Imagine the Empire should we be the sole deciders of who lives and who dies. Sultans, presidents, kings ... even the emperor of China would kowtow.” 
“Emperor... why not Empress?”  Mr Capell simply laughed and slapped the armrest of the chair. Jekyll blinked slowly as he realized he'd said that out loud.
“Answer me.” He feels like he swallowed burning coal. Why does he laugh? 
Capell's jaws tightens. “My dear fellow, I think you misunderstand the natural order of things. Women possess many admirable qualities... grace.. compassion for example. But! Governance of an empire requires a different sort of mind. Robust, decisive and strong.” Jekyll rolls his eyes.
“Womanly sentimentality is a weakness?”
“Of course, it hinders their objectivity. You are a scientist, you appreciate that don't you?” Roger says with an edge.
“Some of the finest minds I met at Cambridge belonged to the wives of my colleagues. Many of whom put the lesser graduates to shame. Sadly, they were denied a proper education. And to add, their womanly nature was quite the boon to their husbands. Kept them down to Earth.” Jekyll said.
Roger's face goes red. “Well, my my Dr. Jekyll. One would say you've been reading all that suffragette twaddle. Parading around demanding the vote. They should chuck them in jail, the whole lot.” Miss Capell goes still, then takes a sip of sherry. Jekyll goes to open his mouth but she interrupts.
“Eat Dr. Jekyll. I suppose you'll need your strength if you're going to be fiddling around in the laboratory all night” Miss Capell said. Right now, it looks like Mr Capell would rather throw you into the square.
“Is it true you have a Chinese assistant? She understands Chemistry? How modern!” Lady Capell blurted. Mr. Capell just sighed.
 Jekyll hears the words as a distant mumble. Delightful. She wants to see me. She wants you to let me out. Let me show you how to handle silly men and girls like those. 
“Indeed. She is educated locally.” Jekyll said quickly and sharply. No more. Her existence is a miracle. But one that can easily become a very public if too many people investigate.
“Tell us more please.” She placed her chin in her hands.
“No.” 
“But I want to talk to her. I'd love to hear some tales of her parentage of exotic lands and-”
“I said no!” Jekyll half-shouted. Miss Capell jumped, and nearly reached one hand out to her brother. His face darkened and he shook a finger.
“See here Jekyll. You're my guest. Mind your damn tone with my sister!”
“I'm... I'm sorry. It is late. Forgive me. Your food is wonderful.” Jekyll laid his fork and knife with the proper etiquette, then he tipped his head.  The brother and sister looked between each other and then both nodded in response. “A diplomatic recovery. Thank you for coming Dr. Jekyll.” Miss Capell said.
She guided him to the door and with a well disguised stroke of his arm, let him out into the corridor.
God save me from high society, he thinks. 

 He bought a small box of delicate lavender candies - a foolish extravagance - and practiced awkward pleasantries under his breath all the way back to the flower stall. She'd moved about, but someone told her they'd seen her at the skeletal arches of Holborn Viaduct. As he turned the corner it loomed overhead, funneling gritty wind that snatched at his threadbare coat. Róisín wouldn’t care about the mothballed coat of course. She hadn't last time. She was so kind and uncomplicated, unlike half the women his mother introduced him to. Talking to her would clear the mind. She stared. Did she see his bloody trembling intent. Róisín hesitated, glancing at her sparse stock. Few customers braved the cold. A young boy came running. He had dark brown hair, almost black. His eyes were a fine blue. “Who's this? Why 'e smell loike a lady?” He asked.
“This is Dr. Jekyll, be polite now Connor.” She gently ruffled his hair. He'd seen the boy about of course. But he dare not ask of his father.
 ”Tea?” He said. “Tea?” she echoed, wiping her reddened hands on her apron. A rare softness touched her lips, chasing away the watchful unease from earlier. “Well... alright, Dr. Jekyll. Five minutes while I tarp the blooms. I hope yer don't mind young Connor nearby.”
“Not at all.”
“I have a gift for you. Lavender candies. Surely your boy would enjoy them.” He produces the small box from his pocket. Connor grins and Róisín shakes her head with a slight slump on one shoulder.
“This... and th'perfume. This is far too generous Dr Jekyll. These musta cost yer a fortune”
“Please, both of you happy, and I am happy.”  Róisín smiled.
“Tea then, Connor would love ta tell ya bout the great black horse he saw yesterday. He talks of nothin' else” 
 He felt a sharp pain in his gut. Before he could talk, Jekyll’s bracing gulp of relief is chilled as she wrenches deep within him. He staggered, clutching the lamp-post beside the stall. Vision blurred at the edges, the fog turning a sickly, mustardy yellow. The formula. He’d felt the surge of power through her, the monstrous satisfaction. His body was rejecting his claim. Later! He silently pleaded into the chaotic well of shared existence. Not here! Not with her! 
 
I won't fade away. Please! I can't die.

 “Doctor?”
“I must go! Forgi-gi-give me!” He said, his vision blurring as his form spiraled, flailed and twisted off into the sooty distance.

Miss Huang’s pointed fingernail traced the perfect curve of the diamond gracing her neck. Eyes locked coldly on Overton’s steadily darkening face, Huang’s finger pointed directly at the equally beautiful Chinese girl standing closest to her.  The gesture was deliberate. Intimate. Then she deliberately dropped her gaze to run slowly the length of Ah-Mui’s frightened body as if measuring potential prey. Appraising her youthful flesh. Jekyll will come for this one tonight. You will help me Jekyll, help us both. This I have decided my brother.

Jekyll woke up finding himself furious, and aroused. What right have you? I was in the middle of something! What had Miss Huang done? Hngh, yet... the only thing he could think of, care about, was the need of sexual release. A need that he tried to ignore, but images filled his mind of writhing amongst some whores. Asian whores like his sister Miss Huang. Yes... yes... very good. Very pleasing. A slut, a slapper, that's what I need. He made a quick turn to the house of Mr. Overton. He could surely learn something about what manifested in his formula while he was there. It was about time to further his research in that regard. As well as release these… urges.

He paid in advance and stumbled up to the room. He shuffled past two drunks who were arguing about who got to go first with one of the cheaper women. As he saw the line up he found himself drawn to a particular woman. Ah-Mui, Mr. Overton called her. She was quite the draw. Her face made up nicely in the Oriental way. He took her up to the room and her legs were soon spread. He stared intensely into her face and he began to feel amused, ecstatic. He bucked roughly, like an animal mating. He gripped her tits and her throat, and as he did he felt the skin beneath his chest rumble. He moaned so loud he was sure the whole street outside could here, as he rubbed a developed breast, a tit, big and round. Yesssss.. he pinched the dusky nipple.

The woman looked up with horror as the man inside her began to change. His hair lengthening and growing black midnight colour. She realised she couldn’t feel anything brushing against her insides. His body became slim and nubile, until the only sight was two beautiful creature gyrating. Their clits were rubbing as Jekyll’s moans became more feminine, until he was left with one shocking thought before darkness. I’m glad we picked this one out.

 She covered the mouth of the woman then pulled a hair needle off the drawer. With an inhuman fury she made shrieks of ecstasy as she stabbed into the whore. Sprays of blood landed on her face. Miss Huang sat for a moment then opened her phoenix eyes. Jekyll needed her blood in the potion, even if he didn’t want to realize it. Then she would feel stronger. She was going to disappear soon, this was all the energy she had. It had to be done for him.

She began to breath faster as she felt the lingering throbbing in her sex. Terror spilled over onto her face. Just like the terror on that lady’s face. What would it mean that she had murdered this woman? She racked their memories and then giggled. Nothing. Nothing at all. She was just a stupid whore. Not as important as she is, not even as important as Jekyll. She would be replaced, or her life paid for… yes. The only important thing this whore will do in her life is give me life. Blood for beauty. Now... I need.. I need someone to take the blame.

She found a man lying slumped against the wall three doors down, his pipe having rolled from nerveless fingers. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils contracted to pinpoints, his breathing shallow and rhythmic. The sweet-sick smell of opium clung to him like a shroud. Huang moved with swift purpose; the jar secured. The razor remained in her hand, still wet.  “Forgive me,” she murmured with half-confidence. She pressed the razor into his limp hand, closing his fingers around the handle. His skin was clammy and cold. She wiped the blade across his sleeve, leaving a crimson smear, then deliberately nicked his palm. He made a small sound - not much of a protest - and his head lolled sideways.

She took his other hand and dragged it through the door she left deliberately ajar, letting his fingers trail in the pooling blood just inside the threshold. The staging is crude but sufficient. An opium-addled vagrant wastrel, forced his way into the room, attacking the prostitute. Overton will believe it because he will want to believe it, anything rather than acknowledging a calculated murderer stalked his establishment.

Footsteps echoed from the landing below. Heavier and closer. Overton's voice called out something in Cantonese to another customer. She rose smoothly, arranging her stolen burgundy dress, and moved toward the rear staircase she noted on her arrival. The servants' entrance, barely wide enough for a single person. Her feet found each step with certainty despite the darkness. Behind her, she heard Overton's footsteps reach the corridor, she heard him calling out in alarm.

But she had already descended, already emerged into the alley behind the brothel where rats scattered from her sudden appearance. The night air tastes of the Thames, salt, sewage and freedom. The jar in her reticule bumped against her hip with each step on the cobbles.

Jekyll woke up feeling as if he had dug himself out of his own grave. He was standing upright, as if Miss Huang had fell asleep standing up. He was home. Wasn’t he at Mr Overton’s before now?. He was… taking a whore and then? A blank. He tried to recall, right now, what was the smell? Burning. He looked at the equipment. It showed heavy signs of use. Miss Huang, did you? She… curses! Damnit! he had a meeting to run to!

Sir Edmund Owens was already well into a drink at the pub on Tuesday night. His expression went from jovial to grim as he saw Jekyll approach between the tables. 
“Jekyll, god man you look like an Indian’s toilet bowl.” Jekyll sat down and ignored the expectant bartender. He rubbed his face and then took a quick look up. “How are the...”
“I’ve discovered a way for a man to… change his appearance entirely.” He said, not yet looking at Dr Owens.
“What on earth do you mean Jekyll?” He gave him a quizzical look.
“I have been changing into another person.” Mr Owens drew his head back. He let out a nervous chuckle.
“That’s not possible. It defies the laws of biology.”
“It is possible! I made it possible!” He growled.
“Your… purchases… have been rather worrying. These things seem so unrelated and yet unfathomably expensive.” He rubbed his forehead. “Are these hallucinogenic? Are you wasting my money? Don’t test me Jekyll.”
“I know, but it’s all true. I can… show you.” Jekyll curled his fingers in and out, shuffling on the stool.
“It’s simply not what I asked for Jekyll. Bloody hell, I’ve seen your arcane imports… crates from Lascars what the bow bells are you buying? I... can’t continue your funding.”
“You'll see.” Jekyll growled softly.
“I don't care! My leg has the skin texture of Seti the first, I've got months my doctor tells me. What use is it for me to grow a more handsome nose. You time-wasting little...”
Jekyll shook with anger. Doesn’t he realize how close I am? Perhaps if one can change sex and race then one can change other things. What other constants of human nature are malleable? Perhaps such things will no longer ma-Jekyll caught sight of a glob of blood on the back of his hand.
“They are so… small.” He turned them over and back. “Oh no…”
“Are you alright Jekyll?”
“I… must go. We can dis….dis…cuss this later” He leaped off his chair and ran out of the pub clutching his chest.
“I don’t see very well what there is left to discuss!” He shouted after him with a shake of the head.
Could it be? He hadn’t even taken any formula! His transformation felt even more intense and hurried. As If the woman within couldn’t contain her eagerness to get out. To tear out.
“I can’t wait!” They said through clenched teeth and cracking jaw. His face was already bloating and sliding as he fumbled under the street lamp. Bones cracked and shifted as she crawled into a dark space away from the lamp. She tossed her hair back and pursed her lips. This time Miss Huang felt different. She felt like she had a destiny. She was more in-control, more confident. She had plans. One had already worked. To kill... and live. As many as she needed to. Whoever got in the way of her and a beautiful life.
 ”Need somethin' Miss?” The shopkeeper asked. Mr. Dunstan presumably from the sign on the door.
Miss Huang tilted her head and smiled. “Just browsing,” she announced in the crisp, resonant baritone that so jarred from her delicate throat. Mr. Dunstan blinked, startled, then peered harder. She drifted towards the display case housing the gold brooch, but seeming to admire a collection of hideous cameos nearby.  She'd come here before and found a weakness in one of the cases. 

Her small hand, sharp-nailed, rested casually on the that glass. Pressure. She pressed ever so slightly, feigning fascination, her dark eyes darting across the dusty shelves ignoring the fine brooch entirely. Mr. Dunstan watched for a moment, then shrugged and returned to polishing a pewter mug with spotty concentration. One movement, lightning fast. Her slender arm snaked through the crack, a twist of impossible angles. Her fingers closed around the smooth, cool metal. Another lightning twist, and it vanished into the folds of the enveloping coat just as Mr. Dunstan looked up from his mug. He saw nothing wrong. Just the foreign woman still staring vacantly at the cameos. Those foreigners and their strange ways. She probably will just twirl around on the spot a few times and not buy anything like last time. He grunted and resumed polishing. “Quite the collection,” she stated flatly, turning abruptly, the heavy coat swirling like a stage curtain. The bell jangled behind her. She walked out onto the foggy street without another word, leaving the annoyed shopkeeper. He shouted to the backroom. “Ere wifey. There was a queer lookin' oriental in here again. Weren't sure last time. Wasn't the coppers lookin' for someone like that?”
“To 'ell wi the coppers. Me nephew is blind cause of them lot. They threw ‘im in some lime.” His wife barked back.
“Right you are love.” Mr. Dunstan said, making a note to check the cabinets later.
 
Jekyll stared down at the gold brooch. Damnit, yet again! I think it is time to end this nonsense. I must end this. I have birthed a thief. A seductress. And although I can’t know all her thoughts, I feel something heinous. Something quite mean from her, trickling through my soul from the moment I wake up until I lay down to rest. She takes my life when she wills now. Enough! He fiddled with the designs of the formula in his mind. Would drinking another version of the formula with some unwitting male’s work do something. Or would I need… it disgusts me. Yet, I suppose the anatomical college might have a cadaver. The male ejaculation would be dried up. He heard a knock on the main door.
 
An inspector stood on his doorstep, a silhouette carved from London fog and official disquiet. Stooped, rain-spattered. His eyes were boreal in colour. A few strands of grey hair hung forward over his well tanned skin. “Dr. Jekyll? Inspector Pollard, Scotland Yard. Might I have a word?” 
Jekyll froze, the violets he'd picked out for Róisín to apologise wilting in his death-grip. 
“Inspector? What… what business?”
“Disturbance reported, Doctor. Late last night in Limehouse. Cruel business.” Pollard’s faded blue eyes didn’t quite focus on Jekyll’s face; they seemed to catalogue the unraveled collar, the tremor in his hand the chemical stench clinging to him. 
“Limehouse... far from home” Jekyll said. 
“A woman found...well, best left to imagination.  Rattled the neighbourhood somethin’ fierce. You were known to frequent the Seventh Heaven? In fact, you were there last night… correct?”
Jekyll’s stomach clumped. Ah-Mui? The thought of her screaming… the metallic scent… it hit him anew. God. “The Seventh Heaven?” he parroted, his mind scrambling. “I… I was conducting business elsewhere last night, Inspector. Home. Here. Experimenting.” How he wish he had Miss Huang's innocent eyes and face right now. “Didn’t leave. Who was attacked? Is she…?”
“Dead, as I said. Are you listening? Look, a man of your standing I understand these wee little lies. I’ve been told they must be mistaken. Right enough, a woman was seen leaving the place. Nobody got a good look at her face, but the locals say she's oriental.”
Jekyll nodded. “I’ve no reason to kill whores.”
“Aye. Of course. Too busy cutting them open and studying their insides?”
“Nor do I ‘cut open’ whores” Jekyll said simply.
Pollard slammed his notebook shut and beckoned to his partner who was across the street. 
“Of course. Just heard some macabre cases from up in Scotland at the medical school. Should you be frequentin' whores again. You’ll keep an eye out for that particular woman? One with plenty of fancy clothing. I'm sure she's not far.”
“Yes yes, now am I free to return to work?”
“'Course Dr. Of course.” Jekyll inclined his head and then exhaled a tremendous breath as went back inside. His back to the door, he was more vindicated now then ever before. Miss Huang? A murderer... no... but the blood in the pub. He thought it was from his transformation, from the nose. No... she's a thief but not a... we are not a.... suddenly Jekyll's back cramped, he twisted and writhed on the spot and rushed deeper into his home. His eyes bulged bloodshot as Miss Huang pushed her breasts and face out as quickly as possible. He raked at his face as he tried to maintain some sense of control. But I... I neeeeddd to be her right now. I don't! I need to do something to save... I'll just... change. Need to change. Mmmmm...

Miss Huang snarled with frustration as she stood up. Mr. Owens needed to die. She felt an intruding thought telling her that he could still be useful, the ingredients could help her? Help her stay like this, or… get rid of her hmph. She was overtaken by twisting vengeance. She wanted to cut his balls off and toss them into a fireplace. How dare he do this? Offend her and Jekyll. Offend us. He would pay soon enough, but first she had her own appointment.

She blinked rapidly as she looked at Mr. Liu. His mouth formed into circles and wider shapes, until finally her attention focused. She had been thinking about Jekyll, she knew... that Jekyll knew. He would soon know, but did he have the sense to understand? Mr. Liu was staring, so she finally asked him a clear question.
“So how do you say Hello?” She asked.
“In Shanghai, one would say Nong Ho.” 
“Nong Ho” She said flatly.
“No no... Nong Hooo” His voice raised at the end. She blushed.
“My parents told me nothing of my homeland.” She lied. She was nowhere girl of no name.
“That is surprising. You must have just forgotten. Normally, we Chinese keep solid hold on our memories” She rubbed her right arm and shook her head. 
“You look tired.” She mentioned. He let a nose out of his nose like a laugh.
“You see my sunken eyes? That is for my dealings with Englishmen today at the merchant houses. I do my best, but they do what they will. China is feasted upon by Western powers just like homelands of the blacks.” Her lips fumbled. “There are those who see China only as a treasure house to be plundered. Or a playground.”
Her stolen jewels felt suddenly heavy. Was she like them? A plunderer. A taker...The notion thrilled and repulsed her anew. She almost didn’t see the passing waitress, a younger Chinese girl offering her water. He casually threw out a finger to her.
“This why her and your parents needed to move here no doubt. Now we drift among these white ghosts.”
“Why are they so cruel?” She said uncertainly.
“Ah well, we no need to contemplate. The common people think them as devils. Of course, we educated Chinese know they just people. We may do same in their position.” He smiled and held up a finger.
“By the way… that photograph. It developed, as they say.” He pulls it out and lays it on the table.

She stared entranced at the image of her own beautiful face. For a moment she saw it revert back to Jekyll's and it made her close her eyes. Why can't I look like this all the time?
“You are astoundingly beautiful. In China you would probably be a consort for the emperor.” She pulled some of her hair back and smiled. Is that a compliment? Very direct, and pleasing.
“Please tell me more of China. What can I see? Where can I go?” She inched her head closer to him.
“Well, it an enormous country. But west of China there is mountains and jungles undisturbed by touch of man. Gentle bears of white and black we call Pandas. They are hunted, but some work to change that.” 
Her lips wriggled. Mr. Liu stared in her eyes. “But I see they are not exciting. We also have tigers. Strong, lean, fierce. Patient. A mother tigress is persistent, never-tiring. Queen of her domain.”
Huang smirked at the sound of that. Then her face grew still, serious.
“There is an emperor of China? Why not Empress?”
“Once. It not normal. The emperor need die, and then a strong consort can take control.” She pondered that. So, it was possible. She just needed an emperor. She stared straight at Mr. Liu and smirked.

Out in the grim streets, she rolled her eyes as she saw that annoying florist. Why did they want to spend so much time with her? She was ugly and small, and only thought about flowers. Her head was full of flowers and ghastly common fashion. Yet she felt a tumble in her stomach at the sight of her. Ugh. Huang put a fake smile on her face as she approached her.
“Oh, you’re the Chinese lady who has been living around ‘ere?” She tilted her head back and to one side. “I’ve no Chinese flowers though.”
“Yes, I am living with a Doctor.” She replied curtly.
“Oh, well the only doctor around here is Dr Jekyll.” Her lips slowly pulled back in, and her eyes dropped.
“I am… I.. am with Doctor Jekyll some nights.” She said, still smiling.
Róisín frowned and then seemed to gasp out the next words. “Oh I see. That tis…. he is a lovely man.”
She gave a disdainful look to the florist. “I’m aware of that. That’s why I live with him.” She smirked. “Highland Campions please.” She tossed a couple of pounds at the servant. She gave her a grim tight-lipped look and laid the flowers in front of her. Miss Huang replied with an amused expression and swayed off towards home. You don't deserve him. You deserve not my brother.

 The teahouse was surrounded by all sorts of greenery. It was on the outskirts of the city. She passed through the mahogany doors with the confidence of one who belongs, ignoring the porter's uncertain glance at her un-escorted state. Chinese women do not typically enter such establishments alone, but she is not typical, and her bearing brooks no challenge.
 She found him in the smoking room, seated in a leather chair near the fire with a old book of poetry open on his lap. Characters carved into the skin of the cover. The room reeked of tobacco and brandy, populated by a handful of merchants and gentlemen conducting their evening rituals. Mr. Liu looked up as she approached, and something shifted in his dark eyes surprise, then pleasure, then concern.

“Miss Huang.” He rose quickly, setting the book aside. “This is... unexpected. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” She settled into the chair opposite his, arranging her skirts. “I wished to speak with you about a matter of business. You said on Friday that you appreciate directness in commerce. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.”

He sat slowly, his queue falling over one shoulder. Around her, several gentlemen have noticed her presence, their conversations quieting. Liu seemed acutely aware of this attention. 

“Business,” he repeats carefully. “Perhaps we might discuss this somewhere more appropriate? Such as the courtyard...”

“Fine, that sounds more appropriate” After they went outside, they settled down on a stone bench. 

 

 

She leaned forward slightly. “I wish to establish a perfumery. A proper shop, selling scents to ladies of quality. I believe there is a market in London for a more exclusive establishment than currently exists.”
His looks around once more, but his expression shifts to genuine interest. “A perfumery. That ambitious.” 
She leaned forward slightly, letting her voice drop to a more intimate register. “It will be a small concern, initially... I have observed how English ladies purchase their scents, and I believe there is appetite for something more exotic. Eastern fragrances, properly blended. Jasmine and amber. Osmanthus and rose.”
He closed his ledger, giving her his full attention. “You have knowledge of perfume-making?”
“Some,” she lied. “And what I lack in technical knowledge, I can acquire. But I require capital, premises, suppliers. I wondered if you might know of investors who would consider such a venture. Perhaps other Chinese.” She paused, letting her fingers trace the edge of the tablecloth. “Or perhaps you yourself might have interest in diversifying your holdings.”
He was silent for a long moment, his merchant's mind clearly calculating. “A Chinese woman establishing business in London faces considerable obstacles. The licensing alone...”
“I am aware of the obstacles.” Her voice takes on steel. “That's why... I need you.”
“I've heard of some British women of good breeding accomplishing it. A woman recently started a business selling something called ice cream. What returns would you project?” He questions cautiously. “Perfume a competitive market. Grossmith's, Penhaligon's, Floris... all established houses with aristocratic patronage. Some have taken an interest in the East... it won't be long before they are taking those too.”
“Precisely,” she counters. “All selling the same insipid lavender waters and tired rose scents. I would offer something different. Something that reminds English ladies of the exotic, the forbidden. Something they cannot purchase elsewhere.” She held his gaze. “You know there is hunger for Eastern goods among the wealthy. We can beat them to it. Your own trade proves it.”
A slow smile crossed his face. “You argue persuasively. But Miss Huang, surely you realize that married man who provide capital for unmarried woman's business would be... remarked upon. My wife's famil-”
“-Would need never know you were involved all the way in China” she interrupted. “There are ways to structure such arrangements discreetly.” She stood up and leaned against a stone fence. She looked out at the rich estate and then turned back.

He drummed his fingers on the closed ledger, thinking. “Let me consider. The concept has merit. But I would need see projections, supplier contacts, concrete plan. Then perhaps Mr. Zhang would speak with you.” His eyes met hers with meaning. “And we would need to ensure absolute propriety in any business relationship. My position in the communi-

Jekyll suddenly opened his eyes. He sighed, the lack of control was becoming frustrating. He inspected the photograph lying on his lap. This was the first true image he had seen of himself as a female. I am…she is so beautiful, at least.. for an Oriental. Her eyes were so large and enchanting. His penis shot up again and he pressed it down. He clutched his forehead. It felt like he had been submerged for nearly a day. He needed to do research. Do not forget, we are not the same. You are not a murderer. She is. His eyes flicked to another journal entry.

Dear Jekyll.
Mr Liu sees far beyond our crabbed horizons. He spoke of history to me these days. I begin to understand what you lack...  ancestry. The conversation felt more satisfying than our little soirees. And infinitely more potent than your pitiful fumblings with the stumpy flower girl. Try not to stumble too dreadfully today. Yours in earnest. 
M. Huang.

 The tone seemed a bit aggressive. She must realize that he planned to research a way to get rid of her. No... something deeper. This cruel division was frustrating her as much as him. And this Mr. Liu.... he must be fascinating to hold the attention of someone as intelligent as me... her. 

As he entered the foyer, he tipped his hat to young Miss Capell. 
“Dr Jekyll. Oh Dr Jekyll!” She held up her dress as she ran up to him.
“Would you like to walk with me in Hyde Park tomorrow?” He kept back a sigh. “We can chat. Chat of things my brother would not have the patience for.”
“I… we will see.” The girl was clearly interested in him. Yet, perhaps this wasn’t the moment to enter such a relationship. Especially with such a flat-breasted, poorly made-up, inexperienc- ugh no... these thoughts, so vicious and feminine. Huang’s influence surely. 
“Miss Capell. I understand you are interested in me. But honestly, I don't have it in me. What you're looking for.” She shook her head and her face became more pleading. 
“But my brother says I need to get married and...”
“Make your own decisions, you foolish girl.” He shot her a glare. As only Miss Huang could. She took a step back and then ran back to the stairs crying.

He sighed. That will surely cause me trouble soon enough. Damn, now I seem to be torn between three damned women. One I have no interest in, one achingly real, and impossibly distant in my own corrupted state as I disappear into the night from her like a thief. And of course, the other inhabiting my flesh likd she knows that one day she can tear it off whenever she wants like a costume. Soon there will be no ’you and I’. Only us. What... who is talking? No! I barely had... he groaned as he felt the pressure throbbing in his chest. He turned quickly and fumbled with the key. He could feel his limps plumping, the tugging at his eyes. You… you... she's coming... hmmm....ahhh.... gooooodd. So good!

A sharp whistle cut the air. Two men emerged from a doorway leaving a dingy pub, breath already fogging with cheap gin despite the early hour. Labourers, thick-shouldered, faces flushed. Like those who'd made her aroused when she newly born. Their gazes locked onto her with a predatory stare. “Now there's a prezzie, Jeremy! All wrapped in silk.” One laughed, nudging his companion. “Where d'you hail from, eh, mystery? Chinatown's nearly cleaned out of yer sort lately!” His laughter was harsh, mocking. The other, red-nosed and bolder, stepped directly into her path, blocking it. He loomed, grinning a gap-toothed smile that stank of beer and rotted teeth. 
“Lost yer rickshaw, love? Or lookin' fer custom outside Limehouse? Bit fancy fer round 'ere, innit? Unless yer prices dropped!” His leer was blatant, sizing her up as merchandise.
 She tried to walk around them but they blocked her path. “She ain't speakin mate,” the first man jeered, circling slightly. “Mebbe the little yellow doll ain't wound up proper?”
Yellow. 
“Why don't you lovely boys,” Huang spoke, her voice deliberately sharp. “spend your coin actually washing the gin-filth off yourselves? You smell like the sewer overflowed... and took your manners with it.” Huang kept her head high, back perfectly straight. Her breathing grew harsh. Barbarians... how dare they speak to her that way.
He rounded on her, humiliated. He bent, grabbing a nearby fragment of brick. “Bleedin' chink witch!” he snarled, drawing back his arm. Shards of pottery clung to the ragged stone. “Learn yer place!” Miss Huang gasped, letting out a little shriek. A burly constable appeared at the end of the lane, his whistle shrill. “OI! You lot. Drop it, drop it or I’ll ‘ave you.”
The moment shattered. The bully with the brick hesitated, his drunken bravado dissolved. He dropped the stone with a clunk. “Nuffink, Constable! Nuffink! Slip o' the cobbles!” He gave Huang one last nasty look as he shifted backwards.
The constable approached, wary. “Trouble, madam?” His gaze swept over her expensive clothes, then her unmistakable foreign features.”None that a lashing shouldn't or couldn't rectify, Officer,” Huang replied smoothly, trying to hide her fear. She didn't wait for his dismissal. She walked away, head held high. Such dislike for the way she looked was becoming unbearable. 

“Anything interesting thing happen on way here?” Mr. Liu asked.
“Not that you need worry about. Where are we?” She put an arm around his. At first he seemed to loosen but then tightened.
“A small festival I organize. Quite expensive. But worth the sight, remind me of home you see.”
She smiled as she saw the small groups of dancers, children playing with wooden toys. Watermelons and fruit unknown to her cut up piece by piece. She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down at an older woman.
“Pretty pretty.” She barked something in Chinese. Miss Huang looked back silently.
“You know? understand this? Beautiful style, Chinese woman style. Sit, you sit. Man can pay?”
He replied in some Chinese, but the woman shook her head. “No understand your Chinese.”. He paused for a moment and then chuckled. He started speaking something similar, but not quite. The lady giggled and then replied. She walked off to her make-up tools. Miss Huang and sat down, she smiled up at Mr Liu as her face was painted.
“It is interesting. London is full of many little communities.” Huang said. Mr. Liu looked at her curiously.
“You say that like a newcomer. Anyways... this one is for you.” Mr Liu nodded.
“How old were they-” she gestured at passing girls with looped braids, “-when they learned this?”
Mr Liu lit a cigarette. “Six? Seven? Devotion in blood.”
An apprentice offered chrysanthemum tea, she drank, mimicking how others cradled their cups. Three fingers beneath, pinkies curled.  The mirror revealed a stranger, lips crimson, brows shaved and redrawn. Her face, once merely foreign, now emanated dynasty and nobility. His face. She felt … fascinated. I’m so gorgeous. Well, she knew that, but now who could resist? She wanted him to look and never stop. He pulled her into a street dance. Her stiff movements betrayed her, but the crowd whooped at the beauty trailing their steps. 

Around them, silk ribbons unfurled like blood trails. She looked away. It reminded her of the scene in the brothel, of that snake on the walls as she tried to flee. But she had to do it. A gong throbbed, syncing with her accelerated pulse. She mimicked the women’s lotus-hand gestures. Fingers cupped demurely, wrists arched.
For a breathless while, she forgot she was a counterfeit fighting to live, until Mr. Liu’s grip slid to her waist. He kissed her forehead. She froze and looked up at him. He... had a wife, didn't he? But he was willing. She trailed a finger on his chest. A woman should not behave this way, Jekyll’s always demanding memories told her. But she was not a normal woman. 
“I've found someone we can talk to about your business.” She held onto his waist and they danced slightly.
“Really?”
“Of course. If your mind doesn't convince them. Your beauty will.” He brushed her face and kissed her. 

She smiled as she drifted through Lambeth passing beneath the gaslight that struggled against the engulfing dark. Streetwalkers materialized and vanished, spectral figures offering weary offers and a bit of solace. Cheap rouge bloomed on pallid cheeks, tired sets of eyes in a row assessed potential threats. Men bullied each other and swung fists and grunted. Huang ignored them. She had wanted to go home after that encounter earlier. But she was glad she didn’t. She needed that man now. When he kissed her, it focused her. There was no more need to explore, to steal. This man was all that mattered. And to stay with him... she needed more, more formula.

She saw a familiar silhouette. Faded pink silk visible beneath a cheap shawl pulled tight against the damp chill. A woman stood under a broken archway leading to a sluice gate tunnel. She exhaled a plume of condensed breath, eyes dull with exhaustion, scanning the shifting fog. Not Chinese... but she will suffice... I need it. She felt her eyes twitch as the skin began to pull back. He wants to come back. Not yet brother.
“A wet evening for business.” The voice slithered from the silence. Impeccable Oxford English. His voice, emerging from that face. The prostitute flinched violently, stumbling back a step, eyes wide with raw terror. Then her gaze dropped, skittering to the incongruous grey silk robe hanging loosely over Jekyll’s massive coat, to the bare ankles beneath. Large brown breasts heaving from his chest, the nipples stiff. The melting face covered in odd designs and paint.
“Give me your body.” Jekyll-Huang said. 
 “What… no! Monster! Somebody help me!” This woman, ugh, she sounds like the flower girl. Kill her!The predatory flare in Huang’s dark, gold-flecked eyes was impossible to misinterpret. Panic flooded the woman's face. She whirled to run down the sluice tunnel.

Jekyll-Huang moved. One moment a presence at the archway's edge, the next, on top of her. Dr Jekyll’s unconsciousness tried to fight for control but she was too strong. As the knife plunged in, the rest of her body reasserted itself. The worthless prostitute slumped against Huang’s smaller, strong frame, her essence drained to pallor, the rich colour leeching from her skin. It banished the lurking panic of transformation, silencing Jekyll’s clamor for life for the moment. She was in charge, good... she had work to do.
He washed the strange make-up off his face. Thank god no one had seen him. One blood-red cuff on the discarded lab coat sleeve, carelessly thrown over the back of a stool. Dried mud, streaks of filth from the alley… and three perfect, rust-brown droplets. Blood. His blood? Or worse… his gaze snapped to his own hands, outstretched, trembling. Ungloved. Clean. Polished nails where dirt-rimmed ones should be. Beautiful hands attached to a nightmare. As if from the fact of noticing then, they thickened and turned back into his own hands. He couldn’t feel any wound. What had he… had she… done during those hours lost in the fog? He concentrated as he tried to think of the memories. He stared at the blood. What are you hid- then the screams and madness hit him. He vomited and ran to the basin. Jekyll scrubbed until the skin of his hands burned. Lye soap stripped layers. He looked around the room.  You monster.

But they are just prostitutes right? Less than nothing. You can’t lie to me. This is too far! Too far. Hehehehe. We need it! We are special. We deserve life.
I don't need you. You aren't going anywhere ever again. I swear it! I... swear. 
 Jekyll lay rigid on his laboratory table, leather straps biting his wrists. He’d dosed himself with bromides, but his eyelids grew leaden. Deny her. He recited passages concerning the brain, hoping clinical detachment might anchor him. A cramp, deeper than hunger, seized his lower abdomen. He screamed as his testes popped and contracted, a sickening torsion like grapes wrung dry on a vine. Sweat beaded on his brow as migrating nausea crawled up his throat. He knew that his spermatozoa were dying. Millions of half-formed heirs to the Jekyll name and his British ancestry. She wanted to take over now. This murderess who wanted his body. One who shared no ancestry with him. Yet they shared a brain and flesh. War of the sexes. War between Britain and China. She would not leave here tonight. Not by Devil, science or brute force. She will remain.

Dear Jekyll.
 Handsome, generous, Henry. I thank you. Truly, I had a lot of time to think as I lethargically attempted to escape your bondage. In fact, the raw tightness is quite pleasing. Thank you for I am beginning to believe in the old Greek axiom that the mind is a plaything of the body. Why do you hate me? I am your daughter. Your sister. You want to unmake me? You would deny me freedom? I will make this body mine, we will merge and then you will simply fade away. My mind will be stronger after all, the hands, the breasts. All made for my brain and commands. For a woman’s mind. Tread carefully, dear handsome Henry.
 
Love you with all our heart, 
Miss Huang

He was beginning to think his other side was utterly insane. Or perhaps that was her creator.
 

Detective Inspector Pollard stood over the body under the sluice tunnel's dripping arch. The fading daylight cast long, grotesque shadows. The official surgeon, dour and efficient, finished his preliminary report. He didn't trust these flesh diggers. They were useless most of the time. 

 “Cause of death… ligament severed. Likely bled out internally quickly. But this…” He gestured with forceps at the horrifying abdominal wound, raw and jagged in the beam of the constable’s bullseye lamp. “Post-mortem tearing.” He pulled back something small, gelatinous, glistening darkly. “Seems specifically… excised.” Pollard crouched closer. The stench, blood, viscera, damp. It choked him. He looked down at her private parts, saw no signs of sexual assault. Somebody just wanted to chop out certain parts like a butcher.

Later, under the stark light of his Scotland Yard office, Pollard laid out the woman’s possessions: a cheap rosary, two dirty shillings. Next to it sat the evidence bag containing a dark long strange of hair. And now, on his desk corner, a report from 'Dunstan Curiosities'. The elderly shopkeeper’s description: “Tall. Foreign features. Skin like dark gold. Spoke like an educated lady.” He thought about Dr. Jekyll. Medical knowledge eh?

  Jekyll stood out on the porch considering where to go. It was a cold night and the pea soup in the air was thickening. He heard the call of Róisín in the distance. 
“Did you wander outta the mist like that for me Dr Jekyll? I saw your dark and broody lookin' self and thought to meself. Now that’s a hero from an old tale or the devil himself.” Her words were playful, but her face seemed dissatisfied. Her pale beautiful skin made him sigh. The fantasies of Miss Huang required an answer. He needed to live too. As a man would, as a lover and one day a husband. The more vivid and compelling her memories, the stronger she will become.
“We have talked quite often. And I admit, you seem an honest woman... uhm. I do like talking with you.” She paused and looked up from cutting some roses.
“What of your oriental pretty?”
“Huh? Oh... she is an assistant, nothing more.” Róisín’s face instantly brightened. 
“I always work so hard, but… yes, the park would be nice fer a day. Wouldn’t ye say Henry?”
“Oh…” His mind ticked. Why is she looking at me like that?
“Of course, a lonely walk in the park is like a long walk from a wake.” She frowned, looking at him with glittering eyes. She is not just looking for sympathy. This thought from intuition seemed followed by a sense of irritation. Was the Miss Huang inside helping him?
“I would love to go to the park with you.” He said. A coy smile struck her.
“Took ya long enough to ask me. I'll leave Connor with me neighbour. See ya at Battersea Park? Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes... yes absolutely!” They both stood smiling as the wind settled.
The moon was a skull held aloft into the soot-stained sky over Limehouse. Miss Huang moved through the fog wearing a black coat, as a darker shape against the gloom. Her skin, a deep, burnished amber even in this poor light, absorbed the weak flickers from the gas lamps. She steeled herself and approached the two gamblers. Would they kill her? Perhaps that would rid her of this double-life, this cursed life. The two men cast an aside glance and then one of them burst out laughing.
“A fuckin chink.” He leaned back into the chair. She approached closer to try make out if they had the right look.
“I wonder if ‘er bloody cunt goes sideways?”  This one was fat, with two long canines like a wolfhound.
“Slanted eyes, slanted cunt. Probably it goes on an angle like. I heard that someone even have one's like the cross. Sucking you in.” He raised his hands like the claws of a beast. This man sounded like that flower-woman. His hair the same fiery red.
“Wonder if me wifey would ever forgive me if I...” He licked his lips. Her eyes widened and she quickly cleared her throat.
“Listen to me.. you men… you can do something for me and I shall pay you rather well.” She said commandingly. 
“What makes you think we be two men who do things lovie? We just be 'ere enjoying a drink and 'avin a game.” They said gruffly. She raised a brow and then lifted her chin up.
“This man needs to die. His name is Dr Owens and he lives in Whitechapel.” She tried to keep her shaking under control.
“'Ere… you talk noice fer a bloody chink.” The fatter man said.
“Even if we were wantin’ ta kill a man. Whitechapel is a big bloody place lassie.” The redhead who sounded like the flower lady said. She threw a bag of Jekyll’s money onto the table and gave them both a cold stare.
“I can give you more when I know he is dead.” She smirked. They all shared a look.
“Where can we find’im then? Come on, fink quickly now. The midnight chill ‘urts me bones.”
“Aye, might fall prey to bad people ourselves if we’re out too long.”
“Shurrup, be serious.” One of them slapped his shoulder.
“There is a pub he frequents. You simply wait outside, follow him, then assail him.”
“Assail?” The men both gave each other a blank look. She smiled politely.
“Attack him.”
“Hmm.. 'ow much is this? Don't look like much for murder. Does look 'enuff fer a round with you, me sweet exotic princess.” The fat one said. She immediately tossed another bag of pounds on the table. One of them licked his lips nearly as cleanly as when he looked at her.
“Well then, get on with it. What does the cunt fuckin’ look like eh?” They turned from their chairs and stared at her, their wolfish grins double the size. She found this pleasing, very pleasing. Men who took what they want. Despite their rude comments she almost felt the same stiffness in her nipples as with Mr. Liu… almost.
Miss Huang settled into the chair and her face contorted into a smirk. She was doing her white twin a favour. Once Dr Owens was dead, perhaps his replacement would demonstrate more appreciation for her. She bit her lip as her thoughts drifted to Mr Liu. She imagined sitting on a blanket with him in a park somewhere. Her hands drifted to her breasts. Or perhaps a mountain in a China? Her right hand went down to her lower lips and parted them, two fingers slid inside. The walls grip them. She pushes in and out. Then they would retire for the night an-
Jekyll awoke with a start. He could feel the lingering pleasure from the vivid dream . Hot breath that made the heart splutter. A penis thrusting in and out of his body while he lay small and vulnerable beneath. Miss Huang, an insatiable woman. He... the insatiable woman. As he looked at his body, he felt a sense of longing. The face of an Oriental appeared. His stalwart older features. His determination despite his circumstances. Is this the Mr. Liu that Miss Huang mentioned? Oh.. god. I think I'm in love.  He read the newspaper on his lap and held his hand over his mouth. It fell from his hands.

LONDON INNOVATOR FOUND STABBED OUTSIDE HIS HOME

Foul bitch. I spent so long as her this time. Why show me this? Did you organize it? You harlot, what devilry have you used my body to create. This is unacceptable. I need to study more. I must end this experiment before it ends me. I must kill whatever process is causing this. I must kill Miss Huang!

Gathering shattered equipment, he rigged a makeshift distillation apparatus. Retort, condenser coil, spirit lamp.  Fear made his fingers clumsy as he lit the flame. Female ethers from victims had overwrote his male ethers. The male adventurousness that had fuelled his ambition had been transformed, replaced by her... satanic impulse towards pure self-preservation that disgusted him. Perhaps his father had been right concerning women.

He felt a stabbing pain his head. Then he let out a long groan as he felt an intense sense of lust. Time seemed to slow, and everything else stripped of its importance. He looked over at a painting of his ancestor, the 1st Duke of Sutherland. A thorny twisted thought made him approach the painting, swaying his hips as he went. He pulled out of penis and began to think of many women in his life past and present, and… glimpses of Mr Liu. He rubbed, harder and harder. The jacket of skin stretching as far back he could take it. He let out a rich laugh, feminine and as high-toned as possible.

He smeared his ejaculation all over the painting.  He fell over backwards into the floor, his hand extended out towards the painting. What had he done? Why? The curl of long hair sliding over her cheek… stroke it. The cool draft from the window licked her delicate throat… love him. He put a hand to his penis and then licked the ejaculation. Salt tang on her lips sharpened, demanding… Lick them. Bitch. He thought as he passed out, His ego devoured by her emerging id.

She imagined invisible hands all over her body. Bites nibbling here and there. Then she was gently pushed onto her back. She held her legs up in the air as Mr Liu entered between them. Later they would swap places, her on top as she rode him like a bicycle. Her hands placed on top of his sweaty muscled chest. I see you like men just as much as I do. Who is the bitch now? Dr. Jekyll's voice struggled to get out through gritted teeth his facial features emerged from her flesh. She scratched the floor, dragging her nails along.
“It's MY turn fool.” That may be. You do not have license to torment me like this you vile demoness. She screamed in frustration which quickly became a male roar. One hand looked as big as a bear paw compared to the thin, soft arm attached to it. YOU WILL SUBMIT! I am a man. I will remain one. He tossed a vial across the room with the thickening hairy arm. I will return to the brothel street and... get to bottom of this. The breasts flattened as the clitoris between his legs piled flesh on flesh until it was a thick long staff. Miss Huang wailed as she was swallowed by Jekyll's superego.

 As he struggled for a gasp of breath, he tried to think. He had an ingredient that might work. Might stave her off. A tribe in the Indies used this to make their youth more masculine. To immunize them to pain and dull their emotions. There is something in the essence of that. Yes.. it could control her hysterics. If it works, I can use up my supply. It should be enough for three or four days. Jekyll burned the compound and ingested it. He felt relaxed, his skin slightly dulled in sensation. 

He heard a conversation outside. It took him a moment to turn his head. He opened the door an inch and saw Miss Capell and Inspector Pollard. Damn, what is this stupid foolish child going to tell him? He closed the door, put his clothes in order and walked out.
“So, you are positive you have seen an oriental woman going in and out?”
“Yes. well, my brother has. She is the apprentice of Dr. Jekyll, name Miss Huang apparently.”
“I see, she was introduced to you as such?”
“There was no such introduction. I've been waiting for it... I suppose it's not to be. I find the Orientals fascinating, don't you? Especially their dresses.” 
“Hmhm. And apart from that?”
“Tall, high cheekbones, dresses in black but... well actually, she is quite odd. Sometimes dressed in men's clothing. A bit scandalous.”
Jekyll managed to raise his voice. “If I may, I couldn't help but overhear...”
“Dr. Jekyll! How fortunate, you were my next stop.” Miss Capell's eyes lit up. She looked between the three and them slumped slightly. “If I may be excused?”
“Yes yes, thank you for your time, Miss Capell” Inspector Pollard smiled and lifted up his chin “Go on.” 
“Miss Huang is my laboratory apprentice, yes. And she is often wearing my clothing as a courtesy. I don't want her to get her beautiful dresses stained. We work with acids and other bitter chemicals. It's hardly scandalous.” The upstairs door banged as Miss Capell retreated into her room.
 Pollard shook his head and tapped his notebook against his palm. “You failed to mention any apprentice when we spoke previously.”
“You asked about the brothel.” Jekyll said. Inspector Pollard stared.
“I find your laconic replies irritating Dr. Jekyll. Obviously you have an Oriental apprentice. She would be thus, obviously worth bringing up.”
“You must forgive me. The city has the most orientals outside of China. And... I trust Miss Huang. She is respectable.” 
“Where is she now? I would like to interview the woman” Pollard said.
“She's been sent away in Paris I'm afraid. There are plant extracts from the French colonies that can only be found there. She may well be a fortnight.” Pollard's pale eyes held on Jekyll's.
“A shame. Well, I will be back for her very soon. You see, women have been butchered.” He stepped closer, the man stunk of wet wool and tobacco.”I do hope no murders happen when she is gone... away in Paris. That would tell me something very interesting indeed. I bid you good evening.” He touched the brim of his hat and walked out.
 
 Miss Capell stood above him on the gaslit staircase, her sharp blue eyes searching his face with an intrusive intensity. 
 ”Are you well?” 
Jekyll opened his mouth to offer some reason, some gentleman's reassurance. But something else rose instead. It came sudden and hot. Hissed out like a cat. His lips curl into a shape that is not his own. His eyes narrow with a contempt that belongs to someone else entirely, and the words that emerged carried a venomous femininity foreign to his tongue.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice dropping to something silken and cold, “you might occupy yourself with something other than lurking in corridors and tattling to policemen about matters which do not concern you. No man is interested in a gossip darling.”
Her face went white. She took a half-step backward, one gloved hand rising to her collar as though he struck her. He wrestled the intruder back down, and he felt that presence, that coiled feminine fury retreat.
“I'm sorr-”
“You are a bore and a bastard!” She said, her voice a screech. “You shout and thump at all hours. I worry for you. But no more! This is the last time you treat me this way. My brother will hear of this.” 
He retreated into the laboratory and shuts the door. The bolt slides home with a sound like a coffin nail being driven. Alone, Jekyll pressed his forehead against the cold wood and let out a string of oaths that would scandalise a dockworker. The compound was supposed to silence her. But she still broke through, still she seized his mouth and spoke her venom through his lips.
“Damn you,” he whispers. “Damn you to hell.”
 She is weakened, yes. She cannot force a full transformation. But she can reach his tongue, twist his expression, poison his social interactions with her particular brand of cruelty.
And now Pollard has her name. Has witnesses placing her in this building. Has a connection he will worry at like a terrier with a rat until something gives.
“Two weeks,” Jekyll mutters, sinking onto his stool. “I told him Paris. A fortnight. That is all the time I have before he comes looking for her again.”
 
Jekyll smiled as he entered. A fist connected with the left side of his jaw with such force that his head snapped sideways and the parcels flew from his arms. Bread and cheese scattered across the landing. The sardines bounced down three steps with a metallic clatter. Jekyll staggered against the banister, tasting blood where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek, and looked up into the flushed, furious face of Roger Capell.
“That,” Roger said, his voice cracking with emotion, “is for my sister's honour.”
Jekyll spat blood onto the stairs. “Roger...”
“Don't you dare address me by my bloody Christian name.” Roger's face had gone from red to a mottled purple. “My sister... she was in tears, Jekyll. In tears. You reduced her to tears with your filthy, contemptible abuse.”
“I was not mysel-”
“Oh, nonsense. I've got you pegged you dour ghoul. Unbelievable, to mock her charity and her concern for your wretched welfare twice.” Roger took a step closer, and Jekyll saw that the man's eyes were wet. Not with rage alone, but with a kind of bewildered grief. “She came to me and said she was happy we met a neighbour who actually listened when she spoke. She admired you, Jekyll. God knows why.”
Jekyll pressed his back against the wall, jaw throbbing. Blood dripped from his lip onto his collar. He could feel the groceries beneath his feet, the bread crushed, the brandy bottle rolling slowly toward the edge of the step.
“I deserved that,” he said quietly.
“You deserve a great deal more than a single blow, sir.” Roger straightened his coat with shaking hands. “If I ever hear that you have spoken to my sister again, in any capacity, for any reason... I shall see to it that every gentleman's club and scientific society in London knows what manner of man you are. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Jekyll nodded quickly.
“Good. Enjoy your Oriental whore. She's all you deserve.” Roger snatched up his valise, stepped over the scattered parcels. The street door slammed behind him with finality.
 
 Jekyll stood rigidly at the park entrance, the gravel crunching unnaturally loud beneath his newly polished boots. He wore his finest suit. Across the path, Róisín approached, her stride practical and quick. Her hair, a vibrant shock of red escaping a faded green bonnet, glowed like lichen on stone against the Battersea gloom. A clean, though visibly darned, cream-coloured dress replaced her usual workday rags. The simplicity struck him, piercing through his fog of anxiety. She tried. For him
Róisín blinked, studying the plants. “They’ve a sad look, don’t they? Like kings whose heads grew too heavy.” Kings. Peasant poetry now? Who knew she had it in her?

 They walked on in silence that stretched, punctuated only by bird song and distant laughter. Jekyll watched her. Saw how the light caught the scattering of freckles across her nose, the practical strength in her hands. A desperate yearning surged in him, fierce and pure. To simply be Henry Jekyll, strolling in the park with this kind, vital girl. Not the scientist trying to move heaven and earth. They sat down for a picnic and he laid the bread and cheese.

They ate and then his hand landed close to Róisín, brushing it. “Feels good, don’t cha’think?” She smiled and didn't pull back. Roisin said, breathing deep. “Proper sunshine after all that fog. Like the whole city was bathed by the Thames.” She shot him a sidelong glance, concern momentarily dimming her smile. “You look peaky still, Doctor. Lab work wearin’ yer down?” The kindness in her voice gave him an ache. She didn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know the succubus hiding just beneath his skin. He saw the knife-edge glint of Huang’s appraisal in Roisin’s features, stripping away the freckles and seeing only vulnerability. The sudden, unnerving curl of a sneer twisted his own lips, Huang’s sneer. Roisin saw it, and frowned. “I… forgive me,” he choked out, voice thick. “An… an affliction. Of the face, sometimes I make…ugh.” He stood up and turned blindly, nearly tripping over a root. “Oh an affliction. On top of yer weaknesses?” She said with barely restrained frustration. 
“I must depart” He started running towards the nearby gate. His face elongating and contracting.
“Henry?''  She shouted, a little exasperated sound following after.
 
“How dare he spend time with this freckled bitch so much!” She tossed off the bed sheets “Nearly a whole day lost to her. Precious hours meant for planning and luxuriating with Mr. Liu and his touches… sacrificed because Henry had needed a pathetic romantic interlude. “ She let out a primal scream and took some deep breaths.  “You fashioned me,” Huang whispered to herself, but she knew Jekyll could hear. He heard so much these days. They felt so much. “This skin, these eyes… sculpted and tainted with Chinese flesh. Indulging the flower girl is… well. An insult to what we are. A beautiful desirable Chinese woman. She’s a little field mole, ruddy and muddy. We can do better.”
‘We’. She was justified to use it. Especially after the murders. Huang’s memories were his nightmares. The sooner he accepted their shared future, the easier it would be. 
She started on her project. This dirty place, Jekyll’s scent. She wanted it gone. The Highland Campions from that cabbage girl. Jekyll won’t like it. But he’s too much of a coward  to take vengeance. “Common,” she sneered, yet they provided a familiar top note Londoners might crave. She dropped them in. Then, the precious cores: ambergris she stole from a Mayfair apothecary, worth more than Jekyll’s monthly rent, Jasmine Sambac absolute

October 1887
Why do I bother writing? Perhaps in some futile hope she will read? Sympathise? I have caught myself swaying my hips to avoid chair-legs. Twirling unconsciously before mirrors. Cupping her breasts that had not yet sprouted. “A woman’s instinctive gesture,” she hissed in my thoughts. The horror wasn’t her imposition, it was how natural it felt. God, a woman’s thoughts. She is taking over. I feel I cannot what I see what I once saw in a pretty face. Or I do not feel lust. Only judgement at their appearance. Insecurity at those who are prettier than my female self. Though few and far between they are. At the Chiswick Baths, I stared at my submerged body.. or she did. Our breasts floated in the green water. I squeezed one. Winced at bruise-tenderness. I panicked as I realised she was trying to emerge there. She is so foolish, why can’t she restrain herself?
 
 Miss Huang surfaced into the darkened laboratory, weak, shaking, sick with the residue of Jekyll's frequent ingestions of those West Indies poisons flooding her veins. You're not sleeping tonight Jekyll. You'll not rob me of time. She then gagged and run into the washroom, retching into the washbasin. Her limbs trembling. But fury sustained her where strength failed. She took a deep breath, found  the remaining vials of this filth and smashed them against the wall, one by one, watching liquid drip down the plaster like tears.
She dressed in the dark. The burgundy dress hanging loose. She found a woman in Drury Lane who is thick-waisted and gin-soaked, calling to passing men from a doorway. Her name, offered freely between coughs, is Dirty Dorothy. Miss Huang smiled. The women eyed her suspiciously.
“Sorry, woman to woman. I've a problem with my dress, I think the fastening is undone, and I've a handsome fellow right around the corner. I don't want to stop to fix it.” The woman squints.
“Well duck, I don't mind. Girl like you shouldn't be distracted at this time of night.”
The stench of the alley masked all the other smells, perfect for her to do what she has to. Huang slipped the knife out of her sleeve and drew it over her throat. Dorothy died with less sound than that other girl made, her gin-dimmed eyes showing only confusion before the light left them. Miss Huang looked down coldly and then dropped. She worked quickly, harvesting ovaries and other glands. Then she wrapped them in oilcloth and carried them back to the laboratory, her hands steady despite her weakness.

Dawn finds her at the workbench, grinding tissue into preparation. Trouble comes when she examines the ovarian material under Jekyll's microscope. The follicles are shrunken, calcified, nearly spent. The tissue was fatty. The thyroid riddled with nodules. Miss Huang stepped back and screamed; she smashed the beakers off the table. Too old! Withered old hag! How am I supposed to use your shriveled ovaries?

As she glanced around, her heart bashing against her rib cage. She saw a blur of red hair through the window. The Irish bitch. She was up to something on top of stealing her time. She seized a shawl from a hook on the door and stomped outside. 
“You there! Have you been spying on me? You dare?” Róisín glanced to the side and slowly turned.
“Just on Dr Jekyll, I’m sorry! I came to see if he were... if he's all right. He's not been at his door in days. His milk's gone sour on the step. Did he have an accident then? Blind himself with a chemical? Please no...”
“Hm?” Miss Huang laughs. “What a vivid imagination you possess. Henry is perfectly well. He simply doesn't wish to see you.”
Róisín's tone gets a bit more frantic. “We were just in the park the other day. Is he in there?” Róisín craned her neck, trying to see past Miss Huang into the darkened stairwell. Then says. “Is he hurt? If...” 
“If what you bitch? I’ll have your stall burned down you harlot!”
 Róisín gave her a vicious look then a sharp shove to the shoulder that sends her staggering back a step.
“That's me and me Connor's. Bitch, bloody nasty yellow bitch.” Miss Huang lunged forward and nails raked at Róisín's face. The Irishwoman catches her wrist, twisted, and for a breathless moment they grapple in the street. Roisin throws a solid working woman's punch that hit Miss Huang in the nose. She looks up at her with narrow eyes.
“Oi! OI! Break it up, the pair of you!” A barrel-chested greengrocer dropped his crate of cabbages and seizes Róisín by the shoulders, hauling her backward. A younger man grabbed Miss Huang around the waist, lifting her bodily despite her clawing and spitting.
“Like a couple of foxes.” The greengrocer barked, red-faced. “Sunday morning and brawling about like dockside tarts! Ave' you no shame?”
Miss Huang tore free of the younger one's grip, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. A scratch bled on her cheek. Her nose leaked. Her lips squirmed. She fixed the flower-seller with one final look of absolute hatred, then turned and walked back toward the laboratory door with measured, deliberate steps.

The next day she stepped out with a plan. You’re not the only one who can love Jekyll. She touched a hand to the cool jade pendant at her neck, a gift from Mr Liu to go with her hairpin. She inhaled deeply, the rose scent of her preparations mingling with the perfumed oil she knew he favoured. She shouted for Mr Liu. As his footsteps slowly tapped the stairs. She pushed seductively against the doorframe. 

He looked like a statue carved from polished teak, imposing and handsome. She looked up at him from her raindrop covered face, pressing her soaked clothing into him. She kissed him forcefully.  She wanted him to rip her clothes off and ravage her.
“Wha-what you doing here? If my servants see you...”
“They are your servants” She put her head against his chest.
“Please leave.” He said, then thumbed her nose and looked at the bruise. “Did someone hurt you?” She frowned and nodded.
“Man?” He growled. She shook her head and the tightness in him disappears. 
“You know what you do, by spending time with me. You know...you kissed me.” She said.
“You are right. Forgive me family.” He said as he led her out of the streetlight. They gently walked up the stairs and as the door to his bedroom closed, he turned her around to look at him. He rubbed his stubble against her and nuzzled. Her loins began to tingle as she felt warmth spread through her body.

He pushed her onto a divan. She worked at the buttons of his waistcoat and bit her lip. He climbed on top of her and released his hard cock. Her vagina stretched as she felt cock for the first time, rubbing and pushing past every little bumpy ridge. Her eyes widened and mouth hung open for a moment as she fell victim to instinct. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his back. Two beautiful Chinese people making love. His length reached deeper and deeper to her womb. “Deeper, please” She said as her voice swelled into a joyous moan. She was savage with him as she nibbled and clawed. Then she clenched it harder with her lovely hungry lips and her tongue hung out. Her eyes heavy-lidded as her fluids washed his cock. Contractions ran up and down as she lost control and she felt his seed scorch her tender insides. She collapsed on top, clutched onto him lovingly and nuzzled.
“I want a name.” She said.
“What?” He asked between breaths.
“I want a name in the language of Canton.”
“You already have Chinese name?” He laughed.
“It... isn't my real name. I read it in a newspaper.” He gripped her shoulder and gave her a sad look.
“Tse Lin Ying. It means Lotus Heroine.”
“Wonderful.” A heroine, of course she was. Soon the world will see. She will be a woman of power in London. And perhaps one day, they will see a woman can be a man. And a man can be a woman. English can become Chinese.
“I have something to admit too.” Mr. Liu said. Her heart thumped. “I search you. I search you often. The streets I found you. The Beckinsale, tea houses. Sometimes I think I'm close. I want to meet your parents. But now.. I suspect you no have them.” She smirks at that.
“Yes, it's true. I was put in an orphanage.” She lied.
“I'm sorry.” He said, then paused. “This makes your intelligence even more admirable.”
“Yes well... I shall demonstrate it when my perfume business is the greatest in London.” He rubs her shoulder and smiles at that.   
 
Miss Huang collapsed against the doorframe. The weakness she had been outrunning, driven by all her passion and lust in the morning seized her at last. Her vision dimmed at the edges. She barely made it back inside the building before the transformation took her, her body convulsing against cold oak wood floor.

Jekyll woke up sprawled upon the floor. Jekyll gagged. He saw it. Not just the report, but the scene. The knife in Huang’s hand.. his hand. The eerie calm of Huang. He clutched the desk, knuckles bloodless. He holds his nose as blood is leaking. He climbs to the laboratory on shaking legs and finds it destroyed, glass everywhere, the microscope in pieces, chemical burns upon the walls. He does not allow himself to think about what she has done. Not yet, he has an apology to make. He washes. He dresses in clean clothes. Then he descends to the street and walks toward the market.

He found Róisín at her stall, her back to him, arranging bundles of white chrysanthemums with sharp, brutal movements. Her left forearm bore four livid scratches, poorly cleaned, already scabbing.
“Róisín,” he said.
She didn't turn. Her hands move faster among the stems, snapping off dead leaves with vicious efficiency.
“Róisín, I wanted to say... I'm sorry. For the park. For disappearing. I know it was unforgivable.”
Silence. She lifted a bucket of water and pours it into the trough beneath the chrysanthemums. Her copper hair hung loose, uncombed.
“What happened to your arm?” he asked.
Nothing. She reached for another bundle of flowers.
“Please. Talk to me. What's wrong?”
She wheeled upon him then, and her green eyes are not merely angry, they are exhausted, the eyes of someone who has just stopped trying.
“What's WRONG?” she spit. “Your woman attacked me this morning. Outside yer very door. Shoved me into the wall and clawed at me. That's what's wrong, Dr. Jekyll.”
“She.. what?”
“Dont'cha dare pretend you didn't know. I came ta see if yer were alive, because Ima fool. And she came outta yer buildin' at dawn with blood on her dress and murder in 'er face, and she threatened to burn my stall. Then she put 'er hands on me.”
Jekyll stared at the scratches and bruises on her arm. His stomach turned to water.
“Róisín, she never said anything to me. I would tell her off. Stop her.”
“You would never. You're always sorry. You're always somewhere else when the worst happens.” She turned back to her flowers. “Ya left me standin' in the park. You vanished for a week. Your Chinese lady tells me you're lovers. Now she tries to tear my hair out in the street. And still you come with your sorry blue eyes and yer excuses. I mebbe a simple working girl, easy to impress, but I've got a bit of dignity.”
“Lover? We're not. What I... I don't know how to explain.”
“Of course. Well it makes sense don't it? In there most of the time, where ya bedroom is... and she certainly acts like a cat in heat.” He felt his face instantly twitch into a vicious look and back. She does not look at him. “Just go away, Dr. Jekyll. I'm finished bein' the woman ya remember when it suits ya and forget on a fairy whim.” He stood there for a long moment, the market noise washing around him. Then walked off.
 
He felt the pressure in his chest again. The delicious nipples. The weight, so good, so right. No! No! Ho dare you now? After harming her. After.. ugh.. ughh... God damn these tits! Get them off. Just.. he spat. These undeniable parts of Miss Huang. Forget that freckled whore. Embrace me. He moaned and ran his fingers through his growing hair. We have a man darling. A handsome man. Ooooohhhhh! He squealed as he slipped to the floor.

Two more dead prostitutes. Then I will be Empress. I need someone Chinese this time. Someone like me. No old sows. She found another girl from the line-up at the brothel working in the streets, watched her. 
 ”It’s terrible night for those without shelter, Je-mui. Sister.” Huang murmured in some broken Cantonese Mr Liu had taught her, her accent, crisp and unmistakably English, clashed bizarrely with the endearment. She held out a silver coin that gleamed like a captured moon. Ah-Wing’s gaze focused onto it. “I am... My rooms are near. We can share tea? Talk of home?”
The mention of ‘home’ did it. Ah-Wing’s reserve cracked. She took the coin, her fingers cold against Huang’s unnaturally warm ones. “There no good tell.” Ah-Wing said softly, as she followed. 
Near the entrance to an alley Huang turned and withdrew a small, sharp-bladed knife honed to a scalpel's edge, a jar of cloudy fluid, a folded square of bleached silk, and a pestle and mortar made of pale, porous bone. Ah-Wing watched, confusion turning to dawning horror on her face.”What… what you do?” Ah-Wing breathed, starting to rise.
“What I must to live.” Huang stated flatly.
She lunged, viper-like, her hand clamped over Ah-Wing’s mouth, stifling the scream before it fully formed. The other hand slammed the girl’s head against the wall. Ah-Wing’s eyes rolled up, limbs going momentarily slack with the impact. It wasn’t efficient, but it silenced her long enough.
Jekyll's sense of self shook violently inside the mind. Trying to shake some limb or twist her head right off their shoulders. No! Stop! MONSTER! Gwei!”The wave of pure revulsion and agony made Huang stumble, her grip loosening for a fraction of a second. Ah-Wing lurched, gasping, a guttural cry tearing from her bruised throat. Desperation lent her strength.
They grappled, awkward and brutal. Ah-Wing clawed at Huang’s face, dragging crimson lines across the smooth, tanned skin. Huang snarled, a bestial sound that tore from her elegant throat. Jekyll’s mounting panic was a force. She felt the sluggishness creeping into her limbs. Every muscle was saying stop stop.
SILENCE! Huang roared inwardly, forcing a surge of pure will that momentarily silenced Jekyll’s psychic shrieks and revitalized her own muscles. She slammed Ah-Wing against the wall again, harder this time. Bone crunched sickeningly against plaster. The girl slid down, consciousness flickering, blood trickling from her scalp. Her eyes remained wide, locked on Huang’s face.”Waste not…” Huang muttered, retrieving the knife. “You see what you make me do? So that I can kill. So that I can love. Why don’t you disappear and then I don’t need to do this Jekyll.”
She collected ovaries meticulously in the jar. The organ, small and vital. After she mixed the formula. She filled another syringe with the fresh concoction. She thought she heard Dr. Jekyll, whimpering internally. Miss Huang smiled and slid the needle past rich copper skin and beneath her own collarbone, injecting the fluids. The pleasure run up and down her spine, cracking ripples through bone structure and nerves. Pure preservation. “Too long,” she whispered hoarsely. “Your tenure ends soon.” She lifted her chin, staring at her reflection. No hint of the frail, pale doctor marred the potent visage. 

 Inspector Pollard pressed a hand against his throbbing temple, staring not at the magnifying glass, but through it. The cracked glass bamboo tube now lay on the coroner’s stained autopsy slab, next to the pitiful remains of Ah-Wing under a rough shroud. The mingled scents of formaldehyde, decay, and cheap perfume were a noxious brew in the airless room. Dr. Garrick, the coroner, droned on, pointing towards contusions on the corpse’s skull and abdomen.
“... and this incision, Pollard,” Garrick muttered, lifting the edge of the shroud to expose a ragged tear low on Ah-Wing’s torso. “Surgical extraction. Not a dockyard knifing. Too precise...” He traced the angry wound with a cold finger. “Bizarre.... bizarrely enough. The ovaries were removed.”
Pollard barely registered the gory detail. His focus was on the evidence bag the Sergeant had brought him moments before. Found tangled in Ah-Wing’s stiffening fingers.
“You attended some lectures at the Medical College. Do you remember a Henry Jekyll?” Pollard asked.
“Doctor Jekyll attended.” Garrick stated flatly, his eyes fixed on the hair. He moved her head a little bit. 
“Good student of anatomy?” 
Garrick blinked. “Jekyll? Whipped-puppy Jekyll? Certainly not! He didn’t have the disposition for anatomy, I heard he pivoted into proper biology.”
“But he would know how to do this?”
“I… well… I suppose. I can't imagine him sinking a knife into a sternum.” A squirt of rusty dark blood nearly hit Garrick and he dodged out the way.
“Bloody hell” 
Pollard stroked his chin. Not capable... then... but people can change. 
 
Back at the station. Inspector Pollard picked gravely at the evidence bag on Sergeant Harvey’s scarred desk in the cramped station. Inside lay a crushed glass opium tube, its intricate bamboo pattern still discernible under thick smears of dried, flaking blood. Across the room, was ‘Mr Overton’, right next to some grisly sketches. He was trembling, her face drained of colour beneath its powder. He didn’t understand these womanly oriental fashions.
Pollard held up the bag. “Recognize this work, uh… Sir… Madame? This quality?”
He shivered. “Ah-Wing, belong to her… she  simple girl. Worked poor corners.”
“Do you know the names of most of your customers?”
“I have.” Mr. Overton said. 
“Give me them.” 

 In the near night, just as Jekyll passed by the entrance of a brothel he bumped straight into an Asian man holding a cane. The moment he met eyes with him, he felt weak at the knees. He couldn't help but raise his hands. Then man watched them and then he gently rubbed the face of the stubbled Chinese man. He felt a swelling of love within. Oh how handsome he was. So intelligent, charismatic… oh.
“E-e-excuse me. I must leave” Mr Liu scratched his head. The face was unclear in this light, but he swore he could recognise those eyes.

Jekyll hung his head in shame as he made his way through the streets. He had never felt this disgusting affection for a man before. Miss Huang was taking over his mind. He kept trying to think of the women at the brothel, but these blipped away. Replaced with images of men and their erect cocks. Their bountiful body hair and their sacks. Ejaculation trickling into his mouth.  Horrible…
 
As he approached the brothel, he saw Inspector Pollard at the door. No, damnit. I can't enter with him there. He overheard a few words, enough to set him walking backwards. Thank you. But we'll need you down the station right quick. He heard a clamour from another alley. Another brothel... he ran to the doorway. What if Huang tries to kill again? God no. It was foolish to come here. Yet... it was too much. Someone was going to die at his hands. And then again... and again. How long? Until Huang took control. How long!? A minute seems like a second and yet also like an hour. A day like a week. I... need to relax. I... must dull my senses. Perhaps the toxic effects of the obliviating fumes shall weaken Huang. He pushed through beaded curtains into a haze of sin. Incense coiled lazily around the low divans where emaciated forms reclined in an ecstatic stupor. Gamelan chimes tinkled discordantly. A zither wailed from shadowed corners. Girls in slit-skirted cheongsams glided around. One approached, her skin like Miss Huang. Her face... high cheeks, full lips curved in knowing smile, hair piled in jade-pinned coils. He handed her some money and his coat.

The stem met his lips, cool porcelain yielding to flame. He inhaled, coughs wracked him, but euphoria followed. Visions unfurled, Huang's slaying in crystalline horror. There she was, on top of that Chinese girl, hairpin plunging into the prostitute’s throat. Shame surged, hot and vile, yet twisted into dark arousal. phantom ovaries throbbed in his groin. Images of jade phalluses were shown to him. His hand slipped to his penis.

You made me Jekyll. Every drop of blood feeds your genius. My genius brother.

“More,” He croaked, propriety drowned. She obliged, packing fresh chandu. He took a deeper drag, and the brothel dissolved into delirium. Walls breathed, screens' dragons slithered free, coupling with writhing bodies. Local sailors rutting tattooed sluts in nearby rooms, moans blending with zither's wail. His form blurred... he bit his lip and clenched his arse as he felt stirring in his testes. 
“Get out. I want a private booth,” He pushed the woman. She looked incredulous, then she cursed in Canton and thundered back into the main room. He croaked, avoiding the reflected selves in the black mirrors lining the walls. Each showed versions of him, some with longer hair, some with yellowing skin, all with Huang's smirk. Why so shy? Huang cooed as Jekyll stumbled and paced.  

They can't see me. Only you're cursed with that particular delight. 
Surrender Jekyll, we are one in the dream.
Surrender.  

She closed her eyes, but it wouldn't relent, Darkness behind her lids swirled with images that belong to them both. Memories of Roisin blended with memories of Liu. Creating chimeras. Róisín is kissing her. Liu is kissing Jekyll. She imagines kissing Jekyll. His hands on her body. Mistress and prisoner. Master and prisoner, united.
Her hands slipped to the trousers as she imagined Jekyll above her, blonde hair and blue eyes. But she is also above him, her dark hair cascading, her light golden skin against his pale skin. Wrapped around each other.  Jekyll is present and curious, their minds and bodies slip and slide and flow into each other like mercury. His lips whispering her name. Her lips whispering her own. Her finger finds a rhythm. She exposes her breasts to the dim glow.
“Our tits.” They thought.  Hmm.. Henry Jekyll yes. She feels herself entering and being penetrated. Jekyll is taking her from behind She opens her lips beneath, the sack falls out. Then it is pulling back in and her lips closing. Did she climax? Perhaps. Her hand was wet. Oh no... it's coming. I'm coming. She cried out in a voice that ascends from male to female. She then just sat there for a few seconds with an opium-sedated smirk. 

The door curtain swept aside before she could fully gather her wits.  Her hands, still clumsy with narcotic confusion, just managed to pull Jekyll's trousers up when Lam-Sum, or Auntie Lam as she was called, entered, followed by a young Chinese woman carrying a tray. Auntie Lam stopped dead. Her powdered face went slack with shock. The young woman behind her gasped and nearly dropped the tray.
“Gwei,” Auntie Lam whispered, taking an involuntary step backward. Ghost. Huang touched her face as it squirmed. No.. no they saw his face.
She fumbled with the shirt, her fingers refusing to cooperate with the buttons. The room still spun lazily around her, but terror cuts through the opium haze and any warm arousal seeped away leaving her cold. She must explain. She must convince her.
“Please,” she said, her voice emerged thick and slurred. “Please, I mean no harm. I am cursed. Possessed by-by a white man's spirit. He transforms me into him, forces me to become him. I cannot control it.”
Auntie Lam's eyes narrowed, studying her with the shrewd calculation of one who has survived thirty years in Limehouse by knowing when to believe and when to run. “You the woman the police search,” she stated flatly. “The one who killed at Brother Kwok's place.”
“No! I-” But even through her intoxication, she realized denial is useless. She saw him enter, sees her now. “The spirit inside me. The English doctor. He does terrible things when he takes control. I cannot stop him. I try, but he is too strong.” Come on you superstitious old hag.
From outside in the street comes the sound of heavy boots, official voices. Orders bandied about. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Constables,” Auntie Lam said quietly. “They search brothels on Narrow Street.”
Suyin set down the tray with trembling hands and backed off toward the door. “Auntie, we should tell them...”
“Be silent,” Auntie Lam snapped. She turned back to Huang, her expression unreadable beneath the powder. “You bring evil spirits to my house. You bring police. Very bad for business.”
“I have money,” she said desperately, though she had no idea if Jekyll's pockets contain anything useful. “I can pay...”
“Money cannot buy bad luck girl. No can make it go.” She glanced toward the curtained doorway where the police voices grew louder, closer. Not Pollard's polite firm tones that she recognised, but other constables, working methodically through the establishments. 
She stepped closer, studying Miss Huang with eyes that have seen every variety of human misery. “You really say English doctor possess you? Transform you into him?”
“Yes! For the last time. I swear it. I am a victim too. He uses my body for his crimes.”
The voices outside grew louder. Boots on wooden steps. A constable said something about checking the back rooms. Auntie Lam threw her head down and exhaled.
“I help you only because you Chinese. You stay here. Be silent. You my niece from Canton, arrive yesterday. You no speak English. Understand?”
She nodded frantically, relief flooding through her even as the opium continues to muddy her thoughts.
“But you leave when they go,” she continued, her voice hard as iron. “You take your curse. You never come back. If English doctor take you again, he stay far from my house.”
Auntie Lam gripped her elbow with surprising strength, steadying her as the opium threatened to send her sprawling. “You wait, stay on feet.” she hisses. “Let me see first.”
She disappeared through the curtain. Miss Huang froze still as she heard the voices in the corridor again. the clump of boots on wooden floors. Her heart pressed against her ribs as she plays with Jekyll's shirt buttons, trying to make herself presentable despite fingers that refuse to cooperate.
“...routine search, madam,” a young man's voice said. “We're looking for a gentleman who may have entered one of these establishments. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a doctor.”
“No English gentleman here,” Auntie Lam replied firmly. “Only Chinese sailors. Poor men. No doctors.”
“We'll need to check the rooms regardless.” One constable looked over her shoulder. Auntie Lam holds up a hand and backs off into the room. Auntie Lam reappeared; her expression urgent. “Come. Now.”
She pulled Miss Huang into the corridor. Two constables stood tapping their feet. One younger, one older as is often the case, both with ruddy complexions. The taller one, with ginger whiskers and a prominent Adam's apple, stops short at the sight of her. Huang knows that look.  Jekyll's white shirt hung loose on her frame, the trousers held up only by desperate clutching. Her hair is disheveled, almost wanton, her eyes glazed with narcotic confusion. “Who's this then? Why is she dressed like a man?”
“My niece,” Auntie Lam said smoothly. “Arrived yesterday from Canton. She stay with me, learn business.”
 ”Bit of a state, isn't she? What's she been up to?” The taller constable said.
“Seasick,” Auntie Lam replied without hesitation. “Bad voyage. She rest now. She no speak English.”
The shorter addressed Miss Huang directly, his voice loud and slow. 
“DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ENGLISH?”
She stared at him blankly, praying the opium haze read as incomprehension rather than intoxication. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, but she forced herself to remain still, to look confused and frightened as any young woman might when confronted by foreign police.
“She don't bloody understand,” the taller constable observed.”Come on lad, we've got six more places to check.”
The younger one hesitated, his eyes still fixed on her. She can see him checking details. Something troubles him, but he cannot quite articulate what.
“Honestly, those clothes,” he said slowly. “She steal them?”
“She no bring luggage,” Auntie Lam interjected. “I give her my dead husband's old clothing until we buy proper dress. You think I rich, can afford new clothes immediately?”
The older one is already moving toward the door. “Come on, you got your question out lad. She's not getting her clothes off for you. We haven't got all day. Inspector Pollard wants reports by three o'clock.”
The younger one gave Miss Huang one final searching look, then follows his partner. She hears them descending the stairs, their boots loud on the wooden steps. Through the thin walls comes the sound of their voices in the street below, joined suddenly by a third, deeper voice. Something turns her guts to water.
“Price! Tyler! Report.”
Inspector Pollard was here, curses. Auntie Lam seized her arm and propelled her toward the back of the corridor with a quick push, through a narrow door she hadn't noticed. “Go,” she whispers urgently. “Back alley. Go now. Never come back.”

Miss Huang stumbled into a dim passage that reeks of night soil and rotting fish. She didn't wait to hear more. The opium made her movements clumsy, but soft fear lent her enough clarity to navigate the filthy alley, putting distance between herself and Pollard's break in. She emerged onto a side street she doesn't recognize, gasping, disoriented, still wearing Jekyll's clothes like a damning accusation.

The next day, the morning air cuts through Jekyll's thin coat as he walks east, his mind churning. In the opium den it felt like he and Huang were one again. Like it was at the beginning... but she took something from him. The one gentle thing that remained in his life. Roisin... well.. she also has a fancy. That merchant, Mr. Liu. The Beckinsale is his favourite coffee house. Jekyll would find him, and convince him that Huang is more trouble than she is worth.
 Mr Liu sits alone near the rear wall, a broadsheet before him, his reading spectacles perched upon his nose. He is precisely as the stolen memories showed, a man of perhaps forty-five, his queue immaculately dressed, his Western suit of charcoal wool cut to perfection. He looks up as Jekyll approaches, and his expression shifts from mild curiosity to something guarded.
“Mr. Liu,” Jekyll said. “Forgive the intrusion. My name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance.”
Liu removes his spectacles slowly. His dark eyes are intelligent, measuring. “Jekyll. You are man in whose building Miss Huang keeps her lodgings.” His English is precise, accented. “Sit, if you wish. Tea?”
Jekyll sat. His hands are trembling and he folds them beneath the table. “I've come to warn you about her. Miss Huang is not what she appears.” Looking at Liu's face, the strong jaw, the stoic dark eyes, the mouth that curves just so at the corners, he feels something lurch beneath his ribs. My love...
“Indeed.” Liu pours tea from an iron pot. the gesture unhurried, deliberate. “And what she appear to be?”
“A woman of refinement. Of charm. But she is dangerous, Mr. Liu. Genuinely dangerous. She has involved herself in criminal activity. Theft, violence, more.”
Liu sets down the teapot. His expression hasn't changed, but something hardened behind his eyes.
“You come to me,” he says quietly, “an Englishman I never meet, to speak ill of Chinese woman. To tell me she is criminal. Violent. Seductress, I reckon?” He pauses. “Do you know how many times each week I hear such things said of my countrymen? By men who have never shared a meal with us, who see only the colour of our skin and smell only the opium they imagine we peddle everywhere. Some do, not all. “
“This isn't about that. I know her personally. She lives in my building. She is my... apprentice. She claims things she knows that are stolen knowledge.” Mr Liu's face twitches for a moment but then sets back in place quickly.
“Apprentice? Hmph, then you see nothing. You lack respect and appreciation. “ Liu's voice drops lower. “A woman who no conform to notions of being good little wife? Who speaks her mind? Who refuse to be invisible?” He lifts his cup and drinks. “She is spirited. She is proud. These are no crimes.”
“She had a man murdered... his name was Edmund Owens” Jekyll said, and instantly regretted it. The words too large, too impossible to support.
Liu goes very still. Then he sets down his cup with a click of porcelain against wood. “Hmph. If you believed it, you would go to police, not to coffee house.” His gaze is penetrating now, suspicious. “Why me? Why slander her?” Damnit man. Because she destroyed the only tender thing in my life. Because she murders women and harvests their organs. Because she arranged the death of my patron.
“She is a seductress. She is a thief. She is a murderer.” Mr Liu grunts and turns his head.
“You are interested in her? You want her? She rejected you?”
“Mr Liu...”
“I think you unwell. I suggest you leave. Now.” He leans back into his chair. Obsession.. when did I... she. He is staring now. The eye contact made Jekyll's stomach flutter again. He couldn't stand that steel in his voice. My beautiful man. Don't be angry with me. The thought arrives without permission. Jekyll recoils, quickly stands up and nods.
“Farewell.” My love. 

 He pushed his way out of the tea house and through the streets. She was angry. She was coming. He made his way through the city, yelling and cursing. Entering into the laboratory. Ignoring the direct shouts and insults of Mr Capell as she barged past him. His pale parchment skin tanned, his limbs shortened to petite sinuosity. Breasts budded firm and heavy, nipples darkening to teak. Hair erupted in glossy black torrent and his eyes slanted to almond dagger.  The mirror captured her... Miss Huang, oriental fiend. The transition was brutal, immediate, and agonizing as ever, but alongside the crackling shards of bone and rending muscle, Huang felt the surge of passion knitting her form back into ascendancy. She imagined him inside her in a country lotus garden, like the ones he described. Mr. Liu, my tiger, my lord. Fingers delved, parting slick folds with a sigh. Her clitoris budded proud, a pearl throbbing. Her pace frenzied, the lab echoing with wet schlicks. Visions peaked: Mr. Liu flipping her, ass high, pounding mercilessly until finally her muscles seized and her breasts quaked. Tomorrow... we'll start our life together. Tomorrow my love. You did well, that bastard Jekyll thought he could break us. He is a fool.

Liu nods “Zhāng keep his office above his warehouse on Pennyfields. If we arrive during his accounts, he may be receptive.” He rises and fetches his coat. “But you must let me speak first. He very traditional. Very cautious about new relationships...women.”
The walk through Limehouse takes twenty minutes. Liu guided Miss Huang through narrow streets where Chinese characters mark shop fronts and the smell of soy and star anise hangs thick in the afternoon air. He kept a careful distance between them in public, though Miss Huang can see his eyes betray how desperately he wanted to touch her.
Zhāng's warehouse stood three stories tall, its windows barred with iron. Liu led her through a side entrance and up steep stairs. The office above smells of dried herbs. Ginseng, chrysanthemum, something bitter and medicinal she cannot name.
The man who rose from behind a mahogany desk was beyond middle-age, broad-shouldered and prosperous in dark blue silk robes. His queue was perfectly dressed, his fingernails manicured, his eyes shrewd as a money-lender's. He spoke to Liu in rapid Cantonese, his tone cordial but questioning. Liu responded with careful formality, gesturing to Miss Huang. She caught just one fragment. “business proposal, trusted friend.”
Zhāng turned his attention to Miss Huang. When he spoke, his English carried a similar tone and education to Mr. Liu. “Tse Lin Ying. Liu Wénzhāng tells me you wish establish perfume business which require Chinese botanical compounds.” His expression revealed nothing. “This unusual. Most English perfumers work only with European supplier. What you need?” Zhang pours tea and suddenly it sounds very loud.
She struggled to think of the words. Her temples tightened. She felt like her brain was moving in her skull. She knows these words... damn no..  it begins with Ja.. Jekyll doesn't know. She blinked at Mr Liu. He is trying to emerge. She saw only a neutral set of shapes. Like a building or a forest. She is losing the thing that makes Liu's face beautiful to her. No.. no, I...
“Can she not speak?” He scoffed and his face darkened as he looked at Liu. “It is as I have always said, women lack imagination.” Mr. Liu touched her arm and asked “You there?”. Her eyes lift in an instant.
“Most English perfumers lack imagination.” She met his gaze directly. “I create scents that combine Eastern and Western traditions. Jasmine with bergamot. Osmanthus with ambergris. London has never smelled such combinations.”
“Ah now we have good start. Specifically what you require from my inventory?”
She listed them carefully, lotus absolute, osmanthus oil, champaca flowers, Chinese rose essence. Items that exist in perfumery but also carry the hormonal compounds she needed. “Fresh supplies monthly. I can pay ten percent above your usual rates for guaranteed quality and discretion.”
Zhāng's eyebrows rise slightly. “Discretion?”
“My formulas are my own. I do not wish competitors to know my suppliers.” She smiled. Mr Liu seemed to frown at that, as if he was remembering something.
He studied her for a long moment, then glanced at Liu. Something passed between them... some masculine assessment she was not meant to understand. Finally Zhāng nodded.
“Very well. I can supply what you require. Payment in advance, first of each month. Delivery to address you provide.” He opens a ledger, dips his pen. “Where shall I send invoice?”
She hesitated only a heartbeat. “My companion's townhouse. Until I secure my own premises.”
Liu's hand tightened on the chair back, but he said nothing. Zhāng wrote carefully, then looked up. “The first shipment can arrive Monday. Forty pounds for initial order.”
She extended her hand in the English fashion. After a moment's surprise and doubt, Zhāng shook it. His grip was firm, businesslike. “I look forward to our arrangement, Mr. Zhāng.”
“As do I, Tse Lin Ying.” But his eyes remain watchful. “Liu Wénzhāng claim you. That carries considerable weight in our community.”
 
 Outside, the Limehouse street hummed. Dockhands, Chinese laundresses carrying bundles. Liu walked beside her in silence before speaking. Miss Huang looked to Liu and bit her lip again and then her face beamed with excitement.
“Success is yours.” Mr Liu said.
“Yes it is... finally. Now I may need to sell some possessions and then-” 
“Dr. Jekyll came to see me yesterday.”
She did not break stride. “Did he.”
“At the Beckinsale. He was agitated. He said you violent. Dangerous. That you have murdered, seduced.” Liu's voice carried no accusation. “He seemed very intent upon turning me against you.”
“The man is mad with lust,” she said flatly. “He has wanted me since the day I entered his employment. When I refused him, his desire curdled into obsession. I have endured his possessiveness for months. His jealousy, his pathetic attempts to control me. The sooner I can sever all connection to him, the better.”
“I thought so. You must have rejected him. I tell him this to his face.” 
Liu was quiet for several paces. “He also implied... without state it directly... that your formulations belong to him. That the perfume knowledge you bring to our venture is stolen from his research.”
Miss Huang stopped walking. She turned to face Liu, and her dark eyes blazed with quite calibrated indignation.
“I studied fragrance composition even before I ever set foot in Henry Jekyll's laboratory. My formulas are my own. He taught me nothing except that Englishmen believe everything a Chinese woman possesses must ultimately belong to some white man. He is talentless.” She let the words land. “Do you believe him?”
Liu met her gaze. Something moved behind his eyes. “No,” he said. “I do not believe him.” Good. Good then, as you are now. 
 
Dr Jekyll gasped. How long was I gone? How long!? He threw on some clothing and ran outside.
“Get yer issue! Get yer new issue!” He turned to the sound and snatched it from the boy. “Oi, yer gonna pay fer that?” God… god… a whole fortnight had passed.
He looked in the mirror then recoiled with horror. For a moment, he saw her clearly. Miss Huang’s head on his own body. Huang couldn’t wait any longer. She nee-I want to see my lover. Jekyll needed to see him too. They wanted to hear his kind words and intelligent thoughts. He pulled open the buttons on his chest and revealed pert growing breasts and dusky nipples seizing the day. He let out a shrieking moan, as if to reach the ears of everyone around. She spent another night draped around Mr. Liu. The next night. The next night too.
  ”The Beckinsale departs on the twenty-third,” the man said. Cabin passage for two to Hong Kong, with stops at Gibraltar, Aden, Colombo, and Singapore, Hong Kong. Sixty-eight days, weather permitting.”
“First class,” Liu said. “Adjacent cabins.”
The shipping agent's pen scratched around. “Mr. Liu Wénzhāng and...” He glanced up.
“Mrs Li... I mean Miss Tse Lin Ying” she said. “But I hope for a new name in future.” Her mouth curved into a smile that made the shipping agent's ears redden. “My companion here is bringing me home. A Chinese woman should be in China, don't you think, sir?” Liu looked at her and frowned.
“Miss Ying. Quite so, quite so.” The agent cleared his throat. “That will be one hundred and forty-two pounds for the pair. Deposit of thirty required today, balance due before embarkation.”

Another day another gasp. This was madness. How long!? HOW LONG?! I FORBID YOU.
Miss Huang let out a laugh through his vocal cords. But it carried her haughty feminine tone. 
 ”You, who tried to betray me to the one person in this wretched city who cares whether I live or die? You went to Liu's coffee house, our coffee house, and poured poison in his ear, and now you forbid ME?”
 Like a bubble of marsh gas breaking the surface of a stagnant pool. A single word burst out. No. You can't. I know what you intend. Not her.
 ”You betrayed me. There are consequences to betraying your sister. Besides, she came to our window. She watches. She asks questions of the neighbours. How long before she speaks to your precious Inspector? Like that stupid blonde bitch.” 
We have murdered, and we will hang. Please, consider another option. Take Liu's money, steal as you always do and run. Do not kill this woman. She is only guilty of loving a cloistered bastard who thought he could play God.
“My solution is more elegant. Kill you, kill her and I live with Mr Liu in China. Running our businesses” 
I will fight you. Every step. Every second. I will drag us to the ground before I let you reach her. 
“I can crawl then. All I need is her anyway. One more precious whore. Yours... hehehehe.”
No.. no! He feels her trying to emerge. His body lifts up and bounces into a wall. Her fingers scrape against brick until the nails tear. Blood wells at the cuticles.A sound escapes her something between a sob and a snarl. She slides down the wall until her knees strike the floor. Her vision doubled. She sees the laboratory floor through one dark eye and one blue. Her jaw cracks. Shoulders broadened by a fraction of an inch but then backwards.
“I will kill her,” she screams at the ceiling. “The instant you falter.”
He had a moment of control. Warning her was all he could do. He snatched his overcoat, reeking of fear and sweat, and plunged out into the relentless London rain. He imagined Róisín’s small body discarded in an alley, lilting brogue silenced. He found her wedged under the lee of St. Paul’s portico, protected from the worst of the downpour but looking miserably cold. Her vibrant red hair was plastered darkly against her temples, the blooms in her cart wilting under damp canvas. 
“Roisin!” He stumbled towards her, voice hoarse.
She flinched, clutching her thin shawl tighter. Recognition warred with wary confusion in her green eyes. “Doctor? What… I told ya I didn't want to see ya again. But... yer look like death warmed over.”
He grasped her damp shoulders, ignoring propriety. His touch was feverish. “Roisin, listen! You must leave London. Immediately. Today. Go to your family. To Ireland. Anywhere!”
She stared, bewildered. “Leave? I’ve rent due Thursday, Doctor. I've Connor. I can't just…”
“Miss Huang!” Jekyll hissed, pulling her deeper into the meagre shelter, his eyes darting wildly. “The one who attacked you. She's even more dangerous, Róisín. Truly dangerous. A murderer. I know.” His voice cracked. “She hates you. Chinese women. Taking… organs from them.”
 Róisín’s face paled beneath the freckles. Fear replaced confusion. She’d heard the whispers about the murders. The Inspector had questioned some of the girls near the her. Jekyll coughed, he could feel stirring in his groin and chest.
“Please. Take what money you have, go now.” He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a few sovereigns. “Here. For passage. Please!”
He pressed the coins into her reluctant hand. The touch lingered. He saw the terror in her eyes conflicting with practical desperation. She had never looked like this.
“Doctor, I…” she started, then froze. A small, stifled gasp escaped her.
“Dr Jekyll.. have your eyes always been that colour? Or… that shape!?”
She backed away from him as his eyes sunk into his face and shifted. His face seemed to be melting and slackening right off. He reached a hand towards her as his body stiffened, then he looked away, covering his face.
“What… what is happening to you?”
She heard some horrid hellish snapping sounds. Huang laughed a low, resonant sound that carried Jekyll’s timbre but none of his restraint. She stood. Head high, she turned her back on Róisín’s frozen horror and the shattered bouquets.
“Who... what are ya?” Huang turned back, features morphing the unstable face.
“His better self,” Huang hissed, leaning in close enough for Róisín to see the intensity blazing in the altered eyes now utterly lacking any familiar warmth. She grabbed Róisín’s wrist suddenly, pinching not flesh, but the fraying cuff of her coat sleeve. “Dirty bog girl. You nearly cost me this body.”
“You are her? He is you.” Róisín looked like she was about feint. Good, she'll be easier to kill.  
He tightened his grip around the pocketknife with the hand that was still his. A brief mental struggle took place. Jekyll tried to wrestle the knife from Miss Huang’s hand one last time. She rushed towards her and chased her down into an alley. “I will make it quick.” I can't contain her. They pushed her into a wall and punched her. Róisín. One hand grabbed the back of her head and then kissed her. Goodbye.  Then they jabbed the knife into her throat. She fumbled at the wound and tried to scream but Miss Huang was already cutting her throat.

He sobbed then kissed lovely Róisín on the lips one last time, and as he did, his face finished melting and morphed into that of Miss Huang. She released her soft thick lips and then spat to the side. She began the process of cutting her open to remove what she needed. Another whore was dead at least. This city truly harboured the thickest and most dire filth. 
 She entered into the laboratory with a smirk, and heard a shuffle. Pollard moved to the window and drew the curtains closed before striking a match to light the gas lamp. The yellow glow revealed his weathered face, and those eyes studied Huang with an expression of grim satisfaction.
“Let me tell you what I know, Miss Huang,” he said and settled back into the chair. “Or should I say Dr. Jekyll? The notebooks wrote make it quite clear you're one and the same, though I confess the mechanism escapes me.”
Miss Huang's hand slid into her jacket pocket. The scalpel's handle feels warm against her palm.
“The Ah-Mui murder in Limehouse. Interesting enough work, leaving Thomas Dover to take the blame. But the staging bothered me. Dover had a crushed left hand from hard work in the Navy, yet the killing showed surgical precision. The ovaries removed with professional skill. Then those Irish braggarts spilled about the Chinese woman in burgundy who hired him to kill Dr. Owens. I recognized it from Jekyll's correspondence. Your patron, wasn't he?”
Pollard produced a small notebook from his coat and flipped through pages covered in cramped handwriting.
His tone is almost bored and routine. “Tara Mahoney beneath the viaduct. Same pattern, organs harvested, surgical knowledge evident. Four prostitutes all missing their ovaries. I thought perhaps a medical student gone mad. But then the thefts. Emerald, perfumes. Witness or two describing a Chinese woman in burgundy. The same woman the Irishman described.” She said nothing. Her fingers drew the blade out a little more.
“That old prozzy, then another Chinese woman. You have been busy” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“So this is some kind of drug, clearly. Something that changes your very form. But the why is obvious enough, you needed those organs to sustain the transformation, didn't you? The hormones extracted from female tissue. I ran it by the surgeon, he said it was impossible... but it seems clear enough to me. Whatever it is, it didn't make you smarter. Rasher if anything.” He let out a little chuckle. A little snarl played at the edge of Miss Huang’s mouth. “Logically... how long did you think you could keep this up? You can't live two lives... even in a city the size of London.” 
Pollard's coat hung open. She saw the bulge of something heavy in his inside pocket, a revolver, most likely. But his hands rested casually on his knees, nonthreatening.
“I have enough evidence to hang you five times over,” Pollard said quietly. “I'm no defenseless prozzy. The question is whether you come peacefully, or whether we're adding one more body to the tally tonight. Jekyll... Huang... Hyde. Whoever you are.”
Miss Huang moved before thought can slow her. The scalpel left her pocket as she surged forward, closing the six feet between them in two swift strides. Pollard's finger tightened on the trigger, she saw the hammer rising, saw the barrel swinging toward her chest, but she was already inside his reach.
The revolver fired. The shot went wide, the bullet punching through the window behind her with a crash. Her left hand caught his wrist, forcing the gun up and away, while her right brung the scalpel across his throat in a single fluid motion.

 The blade parted flesh, muscle, windpipe. Hot blood sprayed across her face, her chest, the scattered papers on the floor. Pollard's eyes widen in shock. Pure incomprehension that he could be so suddenly unmade. He tried to speak. Only a wet gurgle emerged, blood bubbling through the severed larynx.
Miss Huang screamed at him. A sound of pure ferocious, savage triumph that tears from her throat. He stumbled backward, one hand clutching uselessly at the wound, the other still gripping the revolver. The gun dropped from his fingers. He fell to his knees, then forward onto his face, his body convulsing as the blood pools beneath him.

Pollard's breathing stopped. Miss Huang balked at the corpse then a twisted grin appeared on her face. You did not take me! Delusional law-abiding fool. She clutched her gut and transformed back into Jekyll, his muscles weak, slender as ever before in his life. His foreskin rolled down his shaft, red and still burning. He collapsed beside Pollard's twitching body, gasping in pain. He sat up and held his knees to his chest.

 Róisín dead. I... she was so sweet to me.

  “No! What have you done!?” He sank to his knees. That poor lovely girl, dead. She was dead. He blinked twice and then through blurry eyes saw the uniform. No... and the inspector. A lawman.. no no no no. You stupid bitch! Pestilence! She was like those wasps that lay their eggs in other insects Darwin spoke of, eating him from the inside and using him for fuel. He could feel her face pushing beneath his face. His skin and soul insubstantial and thin, like she would tear out. Now so many innocents were dead. He held onto the table and clambered upwards. He would turn himself into the police. 
She looked in the mirror with a pained expression. Her right eye began to deform and slant. Flecks of brown spilling out in the iris.
“I felt fertile… what if I had Mr Liu’s baby inside of me? You would kill it? Our baby?”
He felt a sense of despair for a moment, which quickly surged up again as anger. 
“I am not a child-bearer. We are not a woman. I don't care about this Oriental's child.” He was practically crying and then suddenly screamed as loud as he could. “We are finished do you understand? You killed an inspector. The police will come and hang us!”
“I will take over now.” He said from his own lips with a tinge of frantic panic. “Then we can seek refuge with Mr Liu. We can flee with Mr. Liu. I have the ticket.”
Jekyll looked around the messy lab. This place was no longer safe. He was a Chinese woman. A Chinese woman should be in China. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
 
The distillation took thirty minutes of careful chemistry. Watching the condensation drip with hypnotic regularity. Watching the door. Could he feel her panic? Her exhilaration?  The ovarian tissue broke down, releasing hormones into a red-gold liquid. She filtered it into a vial.  In the depths of their shared consciousness, Jekyll stirred with horror. She drank the vial. The effect was immediate; heat flooded her body, more carnal than the usual transformation. Her skin flushed and her nipples stiffened. Bracing herself against the workbench, she felt waves of pleasure. She tore open her shirt, letting the cool air hit her bare skin. Her hand moved beneath the waistband of the trousers. She felt the slick heat of her arousal, crying out at the contact.  She practiced self-pleasure inches away from the organs she had harvested, forcing Jekyll to witness every second. Jekyll writhed in mental agony as she held him fast, forcing him to experience the rhythmic clenching and the friction of her touch. 
She transformed him back, but there was a tension. A friction, ready to pop and pull back. Dr Jekyll looked in the mirror and saw his eyes. He pulled down the skin to make sure of what he was seeing. His eyes… they were brown. His blue eyes had been replaced. He inspected his body for other alterations. Damn…. Damn… his hair had black streaks in it. So this was his destiny. To be an oriental man. Then a woman. And then Huang. Each incremental change. He let out another bloodcurdling scream and punched the mirror, cracking it down the middle. Miss Huang's satisfied smile seemed to reverberate through his body. It has started. Soon you will be a woman. Soon enough, our breasts will soon grow one last time. Your penis shall shrink one last time. She grinned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head again.
 
“I shall leave on the Beckinsale alone. I’m sorry... Miss Huang, but you would not like Shanghai. It is best you stay here.”
“But you promised, my love. Didn't you say? We sail together. You said you would show me China.. for the business” She recalled the proof - the ticket for the Beckinsale, secured only a few nights ago using the last of the coins they had. She’d placed it reverently in the small locked drawer of her escritoire, away from her paler half. “My passage is secured.”
“Business... is that what you intend only. Do you think yourself my wife? The other day you nearly say Mrs Liu. You would not enjoy life with me. I am hardly at home.”
“How can you make this decision for me!?” She screamed, throwing a nearby potted plant at his feet.
“It is like I was under spell. I have wife and child.” Huang grew still. He.. can’t possibly. I am his love. He chose to be with me. It’s just a mistake. She saw him start to step backwards and grew furious.
“Then leave them! She grabbed him and tried to drag him away from the door but he pushed her down.” She started sobbing on the floor.
“This...  truly pathetic Miss Huang. Your base nature, it will forever exclude you from China. You tempt a man from his family! Wickedness!” He said, his voice wavering, lacking confidence. Was he barely paying attention to the word coming out his mouth?
“You didn’t seem to mind the other day, you bastard! You didn't mind as you spilled inside me! Or after that.. or after that!”
“You cannot even speak our language? How can you hope to live?” He tried to touch her face but she growled.
“Was storybook.” He went on, his tone chillingly reasonable. “Your obsession with China, is no reality. Reality is war, eunuchs and foreigners in the palace, a weak emperor. Death, banditry, starvation.”
“You told me these fictions. This is your fault. Now I do not belong here!” She sobbed. “I don’t”
“Perhaps… I am sorry.” He took his coat off the door and tried to leave. She got in way but he gently gripped her and took her aside. She feebly struggled, and he let her go. He gave her another damned look, and walked out into the city.
“I am not a woman to trifle with!” She shouted. “I've killed before.. I'll kill you! I'll watch your body float in the shit filled water of this cursed city.”

Just leave. Just go alone. Don't do this, stop the chaos.
 
She approached the alleyway again. As she walked to the tables, a point poked her waist.
“You lost mate?” He appeared from the shadows then raised a brow. “Well, well. A fancy customer. Go on down.” New voices. Good, not the fools who spoke to the police before.
“I need you to burn a ship.” They all put their pints down. They looked her up and down then laughed.
“I am quite serious.”
“You fuckin' what? We’d need a few lads fer that. You better pay well.”
“I am a Doctor, Doctor Jekyll.” He smirked. “I can pay very well.” The two men exchanged a look as she threw money onto the table. She explained where the ship would be and that she could be contacted at a boarding house. Huang walked away in Jekyll’s body. Or was it Jekyll and Huang together?  She heard arguing behind her. That was the last of their money. But worth it to see Mr. Liu drown and burn. 

A heavy knock banged in series of threes. 
“Open up, London police.” A strong and powerful voice, barely muffled by layers of wood.
“They found us here? In this boarding house... They turned us in! They took the money and stabbed us in the back. You used my face!” The entity in the room, once Henry Jekyll, now Miss Huang, currently neither and both, let out a cry. It came with the despair of understanding, far too late, how irretrievably lost and monstrously fused they had become.
“This is not the time.” They screamed. “The police are coming for us, thanks to your selfish actions.” 
“Why did you want to burn our love?” They screamed.
“This is the perfect time. We must leave this place.” They said half-wailing. “We can flee with him.”
“He hates us.” Jekyll-Huang said. “He loves us.” They said quieter.
“He just needs time. Once we are there and present. Once we are an option. He will take us over his wife and child.”
Jekyll-Huang swung their body around wildly, crashing into the furniture. They wanted to be with their love, but everything was ruined. We will join him. He will be with us whether he wants it or not.

Inspector Price snatched the lenses. He saw. He registered the tear-streaked, muddied pallor of Jekyll's face, just like the sketches. It was contorted with effort and… anguish? A man’s coat, torn, horribly stained with rusty blotches, yet draping a frame that seemed… smaller. Petite wrists strained at the heavy oars. And the hair, dark as midnight, escaping a ruined bun. It wasn’t just Jekyll rowing desperately after the enormous ship. It was someone inhabiting Jekyll’s skin and clothes… and failing to hide beneath them. His blood ran cold. It wasn't a disguise. It was a devilry. Like his old crone Shipley grandmother rambled about. Pollard wasn't going mad after all.

“No!” she shrieked at her reflection in the filthy water, a distorted image already flickering between tanned beauty and gaunt English pallor. “This is my body! Mine! I won it.” She struck at the water, trying to force Jekyll back down. The Beckinsale’s sail rumbled to life with a deep, final groan.
“I curse the day you were born Miss Huang.” Jekyll reached for the ship in the distance and screamed into the rainstorm. His voice distorted further into hers. “Curse the day I...we...you...we-I love you. Please my love, don’t leave me! You can’t leave me in this land. Liu! LIU!” She looked behind as the police. As she pressed forward, she slipped over the side and tumbled towards the water. She struggled and fought both the waves and Mr Jekyll. She would rather die than return to being a man. Jekyll tried to swim against the current and grasp the sides but began to falter. She was too weak. A choking gasp - not hers, his, filled Huang’s throat. Saltwater poured in. She dissolved alongside him. There were no longer two distinct minds screaming inside, there was only the overwhelming message of death.

The sailors who had heard the banshee-like screams caught sight of her face as it sank into the ocean. Neither man nor woman. That night they would return to their wives and instead tell tales of a monster that was above and a woman below.
 

Epilogue