Tears slipped down my cheeks. The cut stung, but it was nothing compared to the pressure on my throat. I closed my eyes, so that I didn't have to look into the creature's anymore, as I felt my life force slip away from me.

A soft thud had me open them again. I barely registered the black figure amid the shadows before it leaped onto the monster and dragged it off me. Everything was a blur and I hardly knew what happened until it was all over. The creature lay on the floor, its throat cut so deeply that the head was almost severed from the neck. Blood poured out, slicking the shadowy man's boots.

The figure approached. It was Fitzroy. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded, even though my throat burned and my chest ached. I gasped in air, the effort bringing a fresh wave of panic. I couldn't breathe. My throat was too tight. No matter how hard I tried, my lungs didn't fill.

Fitzroy removed his bloodied gloves and dropped them on the floor. He clasped my face, stroking his thumbs along my jawline. "It's all right," he said in that soothing, commanding voice of his. "Look at me."

I stared into the black pits of his eyes and he stared back at me, as if there was nothing and no one else in the room but us. It was a dizzying thrill to have his full attention, to feel like I mattered, and I didn't want it to end. I slipped into the deep pools of his eyes and could have stayed there forever.

"Concentrate on my hands," he murmured.

Those hands with the long, strong fingers that could confidently wield a knife to slice through a man's throat then be so gentle and comforting a moment later. His caress traced the ridge of my cheeks up to the corners of my eyes. He dabbed away a tear with the pad of his thumb then tucked my hair behind my ear.

I drew in a steady, deep breath that filled my chest. It hurt my throat, but I didn't care. I could breathe.

Frankenstein's grunts drew Fitzroy away from me. He let me go but did not try to help as one of the creatures picked up his maker. It slammed Frankenstein against the wall, again and again, as if the doctor were a tool to be used to break through the bricks.

"Help me," Frankenstein whimpered after the third hit. He sounded weak, groggy. After the fourth slam, he groaned in pain. "Please, kill it! For God's sake!"

But Fitzroy didn't move. He turned his attention to the third creature. That one picked up a lifeless Gus in his arms and went to throw him.

Fitzroy attacked. He leapt at the creature, a knife in his hand. I hadn't seen him retrieve it. He went to stab the creature, but it swung Gus like a shield and Fitzroy had to duck or be swiped.