Bloody Marvelous - Chapters 13+
The two women sat waiting on the drawing room sofa once again, the thick curtains already closed tight to guard against the approaching morning. The fireplace held no fire for once but the gaslights were burning on full open, creating a reasonable approximation of the daylight that was forbidden to them. They had had no time to make a fire since they had only just arrived home, laden with their parcels, moments earlier. Darla was watching Dru, whose eyes screwed closed in search. After a few minutes of this, she asked, “What can you see? The sun is almost up. Where are they?”
Drusilla’s eyes fluttered open, blinking back tears. She looked at Darla with an expression of distress on her face. “I see only blood. His face is hidden from me again.”
Darla sighed and relaxed against the back of the sofa. “Blood? That must be good. At least you see blood and not dust. Maybe they got distracted and needed to spend the day.” She smiled. “Angelus tends to lose track of time when he creates. I remember, back when he was working on you, he was gone for three days once. He was quite exhausted when he got back.” She smirked at Dru. “Of course, you should remember it since most of your family died over those three days.”
Drusilla, who had stopped listening after the suggestion that they were likely spending the day away, stood up and moved toward the door. She closed her eyes and cocked her head, listening to the outside world. “No. Not distracted. They are here.”
The front door opened and closed quietly. Angelus appeared in the drawing room doorway alone. Darla rose from the sofa to stand next to Dru. “Where is the childe, Angelus?”
Angelus called back over his shoulder into the foyer. “Come here, boy.” William, on unsteady feet, walked to stand behind his Sire. He was still bleeding from earlier. Now, the blood had soaked through his clothing and completely obscured most of his face. Only his eyes, from which he had wiped the blood so he could see to walk, were visible. Drusilla gasped at the sight. Angelus shrugged. “Dru, take your defiant little brat upstairs and clean him up. He goes out with me again this evening.”
She moved immediately to assist William, touching the biggest cut on his face gingerly, her fingers trembling. “My poor William. Your journey has not been an easy one so far. The bravest knights always have the most difficult battles.”
Angelus yelled, “Stop speaking nonsense and get him out of my sight, Dru!” Drusilla did as she was told and attempted to hurry their way upstairs.
Darla and Angelus watched the slow, arduous ascension. Every few steps, his feet slipped on the stairs. She practically carried him after the first landing. When the two younger vampires were finally out of sight, Darla spoke. “What happened last night? He looks a bit roughened for his first hunting venture.”
Angelus scoffed. “The childe merely ended up taking reluctantly what he should have given eagerly. Has some bizarre notion that the ones who cannot fight back are less fun. If he lives long at all, about which I still have my doubts, a slayer will end up killing him just because he itched for a good fight.”
Darla smiled at him, leading him into the drawing room by one hand. “Maybe not.”
He knew he looked like a dead man. For all intents and purposes he was a dead man. How, then could all the little wounds covering his body cause him so much anguish? Should the dead feel pain? He looked around the room. He lay on the bed alone, the blood from his clothing slowly seeping into the sheets. Dru had gotten him to their room and left again to get what she needed to help clean away the evidence of what had been done to him.
He looked down at himself. Angelus had done quite a lot of damage. What he couldn’t seem to understand was why Angelus had done it. Torture, blood, those things he did indeed find himself craving, if only for revenge against those who had caused him pain in life. Torturing and killing an entire family, though not something he really wanted to do, was something he could still at least understand. Angelus was probably right about that much. It was the nature of the demon to kill. While part of him had recoiled in horror, part of him had been drawn to the sight of the blood flowing so freely.
Why, though, had Angelus turned on him so quickly? Yes, he had refused to kill the baby. Did that really show weakness, as Angelus kept telling him while the knife did its work? Maybe it showed strength, the desire to fight rather than freely kill. Maybe Angelus was the one who was weak. Hiding and killing those without defenses was a sign of his weakness. He wasn’t just a demon; he was a bully given the powers of a demon. One day, William intended to show that bully who was really the strong one.
He woke when he felt the wet cloth on his face. He opened his eyes to see Drusilla smiling at him. Moving only his eyes, so she could work, he glanced at the chest next to the bed. She had brought back a pitcher of water, which sat in the washbasin, bandages, and new sheets, stacked next to the basin. Her touch, gentle as could be, wiped away the blood from his face. He looked back to her face. “Angelus is very angry with you. You disappointed him.”
He felt the blood on his lips crack as he spoke. “He asked me to do what I was not prepared to do. It was a family, Dru. He butchered them all and left them arranged like statues for the father to find when he returned home. You have no idea what that was like, do you?”
She moved to rinse the cloth out. “I think I should plant jasmine in the garden so I can see it bloom. Do you like jasmine?” She paused for a minute, William’s eye on her. “I found them all one at a time except for the day I came home from my Grand Mummy’s. They sent me away for a few days after Uncle Roger.” She closed he eyes. “It looked like a dinner party to welcome me home, except for the blood.” She opened her eyes again to look at him. “Maybe you would prefer roses? Their smell is delightful.”
He tried to sit up but her hand pressed him back down to the pillows. “You do know. You know because he did this to you.”
She began unbuttoning his shirt. “Follow your plan and you will grow strong enough to fight him. Miss Edith told me, then we can all be together but he can no longer hurt us.”
Chapter 14
The taste of blood was the first thing he noticed. He remembered; he must still have blood in his mouth from the beating he had received. No, wait, this blood was flowing and utterly divine. She was allowing him to feed from her own vein. No, that still wasn’t quite right. She had coaxed him in his semi-sleepy state to feed from her rather than just allowing it to happen. That made her blood sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. Still, he forced himself to stop. “Dru, what?”
She had both her hands in his hair, trying to hold him against her neck. “Shhh. Strength you will surely need if you must travel again tonight.”
He pulled back so he could see her face. “Thank you, love. No worries, then. I will be fine.”
She moved her hands from the back of his head to his cheeks, gently stroking the bones through the skin. “The stars speak of horrors untold if you leave with him again tonight.”
Angelus paced across their room, a freshly full glass of whisky in his hand, wearing only his trousers. Darla sat at the dressing table brushing her hair, staring at the painting that hung where a mirror would normally be, and completely ignoring his tirade. Over a century of practice, and with how often he drank angry, it was a lot of practice, gave her the ability to hear nothing he said when she so chose. What she had said to him before he finished dressing had been what had started him drinking, making him forget about his half clothed state. He always resorted to drinking when she reminded him of her authority. The first two drinks went down his throat seconds after the glass was filled. The third stayed in the glass long enough for him grab the hand that brushed her hair with his free hand and ask again, “I asked, what did you say, again? I think I might have heard you wrong.”
She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and resumed brushing. “He is not to go out with you again tonight. I think he learns well but you almost killed him permanently last night. You are too impatient with him.” She stopped brushing and turned in her chair. “Let him go out with Dru tonight. She had a most disturbing vision of you two last night while we were out. I have no wish to see it come to pass. They can hunt alone. We can have the house to ourselves.”
He smashed the glass down on the dressing table, breaking it into large pieces, one of which he held firm in his fist. Whisky ran over the edge of the table, pooling on the floor. “You told me to test him. You said he would pass or he would die.”
She laughed at him. “Dying for stupidity would be one thing. Dying at your whim is another thing entirely. The boy is doing well. He completed his task with no questions. He even survived a night with you.” She poked one finger up at his chest. “Leave him be for one night. Let him settle in to his new life. Take the time to calm yourself. Maybe he will learn from you faster once he feels more at home.”
His fist moved quickly to hold the shard of glass against the pale skin just over the front of her dress. “You certain you want to spend the night alone with me?” A small drop of her blood trickled down between her breasts.
She gasped in pleasure. “Are you trying to threaten me?” She closed her eyes. “You know that won’t work, lover. I like your pain.” She moved so that the glass went deeper into her skin. “I sometimes think that you are the one who needs to be reminded just who is in control here.” She looked at him sternly. “You are staying in with me tonight.”
William drummed his fingers across his knees nervously. They had been waiting, he and Drusilla, in the drawing room for some time, dreading the heavy footfall of Angelus on the stairs. “Not to say that I am looking forward to this evening but the wait is indeed excruciating. What could be keeping him? I would have thought he would be down to make me suffer first thing.”
Drusilla danced slowly across the room with Miss Edith in her arms, looking oddly calm under the circumstances. “Everything is changing. The Queen put forth an edict that the King cannot oppose.” She stopped dancing. “Your answer is coming.”
William heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, treading too lightly to be Angelus. Perhaps, he thought, Darla would precede him down again this evening. He squared his shoulders, putting on a brave front. Instead, it was Nigel who finally came to the room. Drusilla asked, “They are not coming down tonight, are they?” William glanced at her in surprise before he looked to Nigel for the answer, hoping she would not be wrong.
Nigel cleared his throat. “Master Angelus and Mistress Darla would like to stay at home this evening. The carriage and I are at your disposal for the night.”
William looked to Drusilla again, relief washing over his face in a wave. She crossed the room to stand before Nigel. “We will not need the carriage. A walk sounds lovely.” She handed the doll to a bewildered manservant. “Take Miss Edith up to bed for me. No sweets before bed, no matter how much she begs. They always give her a bellyache.” She reached out and pulled William toward the front door. “We shall have such fun tonight. The dark shivers with anticipation.” They left quickly, leaving Nigel to look at Edith in confusion.
The walk to the rail yard was quick and pleasant, the air much clearer than it had been in days. The smell and sight of the fog had dissipated enough that the streetlights cast an almost happy glow across the city. They walked arm in arm toward the tracks. William asked, “Any of them will do?”
She shook her head. “Find a repaired area. Shiny and new so the rust will not diminish its strength.” A hundred yards on, he found what he needed. He released her arm and bent over the track. He pulled the desired item out of the wood with very little effort and held it up so it glimmered in the moonlight. Drusilla’s eyes sparkled upon seeing it. “A perfect spike. May I hold it?”
Chapter 15
He was smiling broadly as they walked away from the train tracks. He fingered the spike where it lay in his overcoat pocket. They would soon pay for how they had treated him over the years. “Whom should we visit first, I wonder. Should I start with that dreadful Richard or save him for last?” He paused and his smile widened even more. “Perhaps I shall bring him along for the whole run and finish him off at the end.”
She stopped him and leaned to whisper in his ear. “There is no first and no last. We shall have a party just for them.” She laughed wickedly. “Pretty pink party streamers I will make for you, my sweet.” She wiggled her sharp fingernails through the air like claws. “They have already gathered themselves up for us; all we have to do is bring the guest of honor. Oh, but maybe we should bring her a tiara.”
They stood at the gates of an imposing stone manor. It was still the most beautiful home he had ever seen. He had always dreamed that maybe one day Cecily would allow him to walk in that door to spend his evenings courting her. Without a doubt, he had been delusional then, at best. Now, the scenario that had run through his mind countless times was utterly impossible. Maybe it had never been remotely possible. He no longer cared. He glanced at the reason for his change of heart, who was standing next to him, peering through the gates at the flower garden near the front door.
Then, she was smelling the flowers, eyes closed and head raised, as their scent carried on the light breeze. “Magical, William. Pixies will fly over the flowers to collect their nectar at any moment, now.” She opened her eyes and looked at the house. “This is where your heartache dwells.”
William laced the fingers of his left hand in the swirling iron of the gate. “Yes. Cecily lives here.”
She placed her hand over his softly. “No longer. She will never return here after tonight. Her reign as Queen over the hearts of London has ended.” She opened the gate and walked toward the flowers. “I will make her a crown for her last night.”
“I’ll be all right, Mother. Lucinda only lives four houses away.” She was putting a thick shawl around her shoulders.
Her mother looked up from her embroidery. “Not seemly for a girl of your stature to be out alone at night, though. You do so vex me, Cecily, dear.” She set her work next to her on the sofa. “Even barring that, all the robberies and murders happening lately are incentive to stay in. Look at what happened to that sweet boy. William, was that his name? The bobbies found him dead not one block from the party where you spent the evening.”
Cecily placed a hand on her mother’s arm. “You worry too much. Besides, I have to go. My dearest friend in the world is getting married tomorrow. This is our last night to spend together.”
Mother grunted her disapproval. “Girl from a family like that, getting married in such a rush. She should be ashamed of herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a child prematurely in about six months or so.”
“Mother! Bite your tongue.” Cecily removed her hand. “Lucinda and Jonathon are very much in love and deserve every bit of happiness. Neither they nor their future children deserve all the gossip.”
Her mother reached out to hug her. “Forgive me, dear. You are right. It was unfair of me. Just promise me that you will be careful.”
Cecily answered, “I promise, Mum.”
Cecily came down the path from the front door. He was so accustomed to seeing her in fancy dress that he almost didn’t recognize her in her everyday clothes. A plain blue cotton dress and white shawl made her look so young, so innocent. He saw her jump a bit when Drusilla stepped out of the flowers into her path. “Oh.” She breathed heavily. “You startled me, miss. If you are here to see my mother about the position, go on up to the door. She is expecting you.” She attempted to walk past Dru. “Now, if you will excuse me.”
Drusilla, fast as lightning, grabbed Cecily by one wrist before she could walk away. “Not here for work.” She brought out the wreath of flowers she had been holding behind her back and placed it atop Cecily’s chestnut ringlets. “Not too many flowers blooming just now but it suits you.”
Cecily tried to pull her arm out of Drusilla’s deceptively frail hand. She could not break the hold. “Let go of me. What do you want?”
Drusilla’s smile caused visible shudders to run over Cecily. “My boy needs to show you something. Come to a party with us? “
Cecily managed, at last, to get her arm free. “Are you insane? I do not even know you.”
Drusilla reached out to play with a curl that rested on the side of Cecily’s face. “You will always remember me and you already know him.”
At that, William stepped out of the bushes to stand by the two women. Cecily gulped audibly before stuttering, “C…cannot be. You are dead.”
Chapter 16
The room was in a shambles. If it were breakable, he probably had broken it. The only thing standing largely intact was the bed, in which they now lazed. Angelus, his ubiquitous drink in hand, leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. Darla leaned against his shoulder and grabbed the drink from him. She took a sip, shivered in disgust, and handed the glass back. “After all these years, I still cannot fathom how you drink that. Give me a good glass of wine any day but whiskey turns my stomach.”
He drank the rest of the liquid in one swallow and put the glass on the floor since the nightstand was in pieces. “Feeling better now, I see. Drusilla’s little vision seems less important?”
She pulled away from him when he tried to put his arms around her. She pulled her robe from the floor then paused. “It is still coming. Her vision merely showed me the veracity of my own thoughts on the matter.” She stood and put on the robe. “I hope we have put it off for some time by giving him some freedom but it will come to a fight between you two at some point, of that I am certain.”
They left the residential districts and moved into an area filled with brothels and taverns. William wondered where Drusilla was leading them. What kind of a party could she mean to throw? Drusilla gripped Cecily’s arm firmly, pulling her along as they went. He saw Cecily look to him several times, as if pleading for his help. He ignored her and focused instead on the back of Drusilla’s raven head.
Cecily’s silent pleas turned to vocal ones when they reached a very bad portion of town. “Please, William. Lucinda was waiting for me and must be so worried. Why bring me here? Please, let me go.”
Drusilla moved to where Cecily could see her face and stopped walking. “Naughty girl, trying to work my William against me.” She grinned. “Will not work. He knows what you must see to move to your next plane. You will learn to serve it hot or cold, although cold is often best.”
Cecily’s eyes widened in confusion. “Serve what?”
At Drusilla’s urging, William tied Cecily’s hands behind her back while Drusilla laughed. “Yours will be the work of angels, a wrath most appealing.” The gag placed in Cecily’s open mouth silenced any further question.
Five well-dressed men sat at the table, laughter ringing loud in the small tavern. They were the only patrons there that night, having paid a heftier sum than the owner normally saw in a month of business in order to have their private party. The reason for the party was already three sheets to the wind, barely able to keep himself upright in his chair. One of his mates, a red headed fellow named Edward, noticed Jonathon weaving in his seat. “Watch it, boys. I think the groom is going to become sick.”
Jonathon righted himself and took deep breaths until the color returned to his cheeks. “Not just yet. I think I need another pint for that to happen.” Everyone at the table laughed again.
Patrick, the oldest in the group, pounded a fist on the table. “Barmaid! Another round of stout.”
Jonathon spoke to the man sitting next to him. “James, can you help me with this next drink? I do not seem able to lift my arms.” This peal of laughter came out even louder than the rest.
Richard, always impatient, asked, “Where is that barmaid?” The thud on the table in front of him was greeted by silence from the entire group. None could believe their own eyes. Blood, seeping out of the barmaid’s jaggedly severed head, ran over the table and onto Richard’s lap. He jumped out of the chair to avoid it.
All their heads turned toward the bar at the sound of childlike giggles. “Silly girl lost her head over you. Her cards counted out such romance.” Drusilla pushed the bound and gagged Cecily to a sitting position atop the prone corpse of the bar’s owner. “Boxed seats for the lady for a premiere. Are you not the lucky one?” The tears running down her face accompanied Cecily’s muffled cries.
Richard finally found his voice again, even though it came out strangled and small. “Cecily? Let her go.”
A large snapping noise came from the table. All eyes left Cecily and turned to the newcomer. He stood behind Jonathon, whose corpse slid to the ground, neck broken. “Feeling brave tonight, Richard? Just how hard will you fight to spare her?”
Drusilla moved to stand next to William, eyes shining with delight. “I know this is your party but I want the red one, please?” Edward started to quake.
William ran a hand through Drusilla’s hair. “Of course, pet. I only want him.” He gestured absentmindedly at Richard. “First, we need to rid ourselves of the excess.” The screaming started as both of their demons came to the front.
Patrick and James, disposed of in much the same way as Jonathon, joined the growing number of bodies on the floor. Edward attempted to flee to no avail. Drusilla caught him and sank her fangs into his neck with a feral growl.
Richard spared one last look at Cecily, as if deciding whether or not to attempt a rescue, before running for the door. William caught him by the hair just before his outstretched hand could reach the handle. “I guess you are not so brave, after all.”
Richard lost his footing and fell to the ground only to be dragged by the hair back to the chair he had vacated. William pressed him into the seat. “Now, stay there like a good boy.” William spoke to Drusilla. “Pet, see if there are some knives behind the bar, would you? I need something to keep him still.”
She dropped the body and ran to the bar. There were knives sitting on the counter next to the bread. She wiped them off on her skirt on the way back to the table. She held them up to the light. “Oh. They sparkle.” She held them out for William.
He took one and placed Richard’s hand flat against the table. The knife sunk through the hand and into the table, pinning the hand in place. Richard screamed. “Bloody Hell!”
William clucked his tongue at the quivering man. “Such vulgar words for you, Richard. You usually try so hard to appear the gentleman.” The second knife pinned Richard’s other hand in the same manner. William pulled the spike out of his pocket so that Richard could see it. “I seem to remember you stating a preference with regards to my poetry not too long ago. What was it?”
Richard cried. “Please, let me go.”
William laughed. “No. That was definitely not what you said. Let us see if we can remind you.” He held the end of the spike against Richard’s ear. “Should I recite something for you?”
Richard pleaded again. “Do not do this, please, William.”
William was uncaring. “My saying ‘please do not’ never stopped you, did it?” He shoved the spike home with a wide smile. “There, now. I feel better. Do you?” He pulled the spike back out and turned to Drusilla to show it to her. “I think I like this new toy.”
She put her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. “Naughty William,” she said with a smile. “My naughty, wicked, Spike. How do you feel?”
He pulled her face up to meet his. “I feel marvelous, pet. I feel bloody marvelous.”