by Amy Cross
***
Sitting up on the sofa, Kate listened to the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door. Finally, she saw Nixon stepping into view, but she could tell immediately from the look on his face that something was very wrong.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
He stared at her for a moment, before nodding.
“And?”
She waited as he made his way to Edgar's drinks cabinet.
“Whiskey?” he asked, as he took the decanter with shaking hands. “I don't know about you, but I could really do with a drink.”
“No. Just tell me what happened. Did you find Benjamin?”
“We did,” he replied, his voice thick with tension.
“And what happened?”
He poured himself a glass, although his hands were trembling so much, he spilled as much again.
“He was already hurt when we got to him,” he explained. “We, uh... We found him...” He paused, as if his thoughts were running away from him. “We found him on the floor in his father's workshop, with a large cut to his forehead. Deep, too.”
“Is he...” She paused for a moment, feeling a cold chill running through her body. “Nixon, is he...”
He turned to her, with fear in his eyes.
And then, in the distance, Madeleine could be heard laughing.
“Nixon,” Kate said, trying to stay calm, “what happened?”
A moment later, Madeleine hurried into the room, leading Benjamin by the hand. His head was bandaged and he seemed slightly dazed, but other than that he appeared to be absolutely fine.
Kate turned to Nixon and saw that he still looked extremely worried.
“We're getting married,” Madeleine said, making her way over to Kate. “Can you believe that? There's going to be a wedding at the Le Compte house after all, and I swear it'll be a million times better than whatever Estella planning. I mean, she was always such a bore anyway, a wedding organized by her would've been terrible.”
“Married?” Kate replied, shocked by how fast things were happening. She turned to Benjamin. “Are you hurt?”
“It's okay,” he replied, “Nixon and Madeleine found me in time. They patched me up. I was lucky, if I hadn't got help so soon, I probably wouldn't have made it.”
“But what happened to you?”
“An argument,” he continued, with obvious discomfort. “An accident. I'll deal with it later.”
“The most important thing,” Madeleine added, “is that we're going to tie the knot. Can you believe that? I never believed that I'd be the kind of girl who wants to get tied down to just one man, but I guess things change. Oh, and -” She sat next to Kate. “Test me. Hold up some fingers.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Cautiously, Kate held up her right hand, with three of the fingers outstretched.
“Three,” Madeleine said with a smile, before tilting her head so that Kate could see into her eye sockets. In the dark holes, clear growth had begun to form around the optic nerves. “My eyes are growing back, right on schedule. I can see shapes, colors... I'm not back at full strength yet, but I'm getting there.” She turned to Benjamin. “I don't want to wait, though. I want to drag that priest up here and get married as soon as possible.”
“Do vampires usually have priests to officiate at their weddings?” Benjamin asked.
“Vampires usually get whatever they damn well want,” she replied, “and in this case, yes, I want a priest. I want our wedding to be a mix of human and vampire traditions. Not all the vampire traditions, obviously. No five-day hunting parties, no blood sacrifices, no pilgrimages to Gothos. Just...” She paused for a moment. “I just want to marry you, Benjamin Wood, and the rest is noise.”
“This all sounds great,” Kate said, turning to Nixon. “Doesn't it?”
“Superb,” he replied dourly, taking a sip of whiskey.
“Of course, we should probably get Edgar back first,” Madeleine continued. “He'd be super annoyed if he didn't have some kind of involvement.” She turned to Kate. “Do you know where Mr. Sour Fangs is, anyway?”
“I haven't seen him all day,” Kate replied.
“Well, he's bound to show up sooner or later,” Madeleine said, getting to her feet and grabbing Benjamin's hands again. “We should go and start planning. There's so much to think about! I'm not very big on tradition, but I would like a decent dress, one that shows off my delightful figure!”
“Sure,” he replied, as she led him to the door. “Remember I'm recovering from a head injury, though. I might not be quite up to speed.”
Kate listened for a moment as Madeleine and Benjamin headed away. Finally, once she was sure they were out of earshot, she turned to Nixon.
“I think,” Nixon said slowly, “that I might have made a terrible mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we got to the workshop, Benjamin was basically dead. His heart was still beating, but it was only a matter of time. Minutes, maybe. Madeleine was screaming, everything was going to hell, so...” He paused. “I saved him. Right there and then, I saved his life. He's going to be fine. He's going to live.”
“Isn't that a good thing?”
“Not if I just changed the course of history,” he continued. “You said it yourself, in the future Benjamin is dead. And now, because you told me what was going to happen, he's alive.”
“But you can't be sure this is the key moment,” she pointed out.
“It'd be a hell of a coincidence if it isn't,” he replied. “Face it, Kate. I've been so careful ever since you turned up, I've been working to make sure that you don't reveal anything that changes what happens, and now I've gone and made a terrible mistake. I should have let him die, since that's clearly what would originally have happened.”
“But Madeleine -”
“I let emotion get the better of me,” he snapped, finishing his whiskey and immediately pouring another. “I've always prided myself on following the rules of logic, but in the heat of the moment I made a choice based on my emotional reaction to the situation.” He downed the second whiskey and then poured another. “Face it, Kate, I've changed the course of history, but history was already written. Benjamin Wood was supposed to die today, and now he's alive and well and he's planning his wedding. Given what you know of the future, doesn't it sound like things might have changed?”
Kate paused, before realizing that he was right.
“There's no telling what the consequences will be,” he continued. “I doubt anyone has been foolish enough to do such a thing before, but now the future you know is in jeopardy.”
“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” she asked. “The future I know is a mess. Madeleine -”
“The future you know is gone,” he replied, drinking another whiskey. “Or at the very least, it's been altered. One little change, one man who lives when he should have died, can send ripples through every eventuality. There's no telling how this could pan out.” He paused for a moment. “You said you wanted to get home, Kate, back to your own time. I might just have ensured that your home no longer exists.”
“But if -”
Before she could finish, she let out a faint gasp and reached up to check her own pulse.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I'm fine,” she replied, sounding a little breathless, “but...” Pausing, she swallowed hard. “Something's wrong. There's something you're not telling me.”
She watched as he poured another whiskey.
“Where's Edgar?” she asked finally.
“I told you, I -”
“You lied to me,” she continued. “You know exactly where he is, and you're not telling me. You're not telling Madeleine, either, so I get the feeling that it's something bad. He's been gone for too long now, something must be wrong. Come on, Nixon, you know you're going to spit it out eventually, so you might as well save us both the bother of having me tease it from you. Where is he?”
N
ixon paused for a moment. “I think Edgar might have gone and made a terrible sacrifice,” he said finally.
“What kind of sacrifice?” she asked, before wincing again as she felt another sharp jolt of pain in her chest.
“The only one that a man like Edgar Le Compte could ever make.” He began to pour himself yet another whiskey. “He's sacrificed himself in order to protect the one thing that means more to him than life itself.” He turned to her. “You, Kate. He's sacrificed himself to keep you safe.”
V
“I'm impressed,” Quillian said as he held a candle close to Edgar's ravaged body. “At this rate, Ms. Graves, you're going to put me out of a job. You've done more damage in one hour than I managed in several.”
Standing nearby, breathless and caked in blood, Estella stared in calm, detached wonder at the mess she'd made. Edgar was in a much worse state than before, with his flesh having been cut to ribbons by the cat o' nine tails and his right arm almost entirely severed, fixed to his torso by just a few strands of muscle. His face had born the brunt of her anger's peak, with one side completely stripped of all its flesh and gleaming now as candlelight reflected off protruding sections of skull.
“You clearly have quite an imagination,” Quillian continued, reaching out and taking hold of a flap of loose skin on Edgar's chest, pulling it away and then peeling back the muscle to expose the ribs beneath. “Tell me, have you always had this aspect to your personality, or is it something you've learned?”
“Something I learned,” she whispered, feeling a shiver pass through her body. “Edgar was trying to establish some kind of contact with Kate Langley. When I realized that, I had no choice but to hurt him. While he's in pain, he can't reach out to her mind.”
“You hate Ms. Langley so much?”
“I hate his love for her.”
“How very human.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“To hate someone else's love. A very human trait indeed.”
“I can't help it,” she replied. “I can't fight it, either.”
“He's unconscious at the moment,” Quillian added. “His body will repair itself again, of course, but I don't think there's much point torturing him again today. He wouldn't be awake to feel anything anyway.” Turning to Estella, he allowed himself a faint smile. “I never realized that a mere human could summon such strength, but then, perhaps you're no longer a mere human at all. Your powers give you something fresh and new, something you can use.”
“Believe me,” she said darkly, keeping her eyes fixed on Edgar, “everything I did today, I did from the well of my humanity. He made -” She stopped suddenly, before frowning. “I was about to say that he made me do it, but I should stop blaming other people. He was the catalyst, but I made the choice.” Taking a step closer, as blood continued to soak through her dress, she paused for a moment. “He wanted me to hurt him. He was goading me, and I obliged.” Another pause. “I can't deny that I enjoyed it a little.”
“So perhaps you'll do it again?” Quillian asked. “I can't begin to imagine what we could do to this man if we worked together. The pain we could cause...”
“We could drive him insane,” she whispered.
“The key is to keep him conscious for as long as possible. You have great natural talent for this line of work, my dear, but you need a teacher too. I would be honored to play that role.” He smiled again. “You are the first human I have ever actually respected. I have been forced to reconsider several of my prejudices today.”
“As have I,” she replied, watching as a thick bead of blood dribbled slowly down Edgar's chest. “As have I.”
***
The sun was starting to set as Estella reached the shoreline, a little way from the lighthouse. After climbing down over the rocks, she made her way across the sand and began to unbutton her blood-stained dress, finally pulling it over her head as she waded into the water.
“Clean,” she whispered to herself, “I have to be clean.”
She plunged the dress down beneath the surface, watching as swirls of blood began to rise from the fabric. Realizing that there was still blood on her skin, she removed the rest of her clothes and tried desperately to wash the blood out, before ducking her head underwater and letting herself float for a moment. Edgar's blood was dried thick in places, but she worked hard to scrub it away until, finally, she rose from the water again, completely clean, and felt the evening sun starting to warm and dry her flesh.
After a few minutes, she turned and waded back out of the water, with her soaked, dripping clothes in one hand. Naked, she made her way to the rocks and sat down, before starting to wring as much water as possible from her dress.
In her mind's eye, she could see Edgar's flesh being torn apart.
“Nice,” a familiar voice said suddenly. “I didn't expect to get such an eyeful.”
Turning, she saw to her horror that Joshua Wood was watching her from nearby. She pulled the soaked dress to her chest, covering her nakedness, but she could tell from the leery grin on his face that she was too late.
“I came to see Quill,” Joshua continued, taking a drag on his cigarette. “It's urgent, I've got a matter I need to discuss with him.”
“Don't let me detain you,” she replied, hoping against hope that he'd leave her alone. She knew from bitter experience, however, that Joshua seemed to enjoy making her squirm.
“Something happened today,” he added, heading over to her. “I need to get away from Thaxos and never come back.”
“Hallelujah,” Estella muttered. “Do you mind turning away so I can get dressed?”
“Can't I watch?”
“You're truly an odious little man, aren't you?” she replied.
He snorted with derision, as his eyes wandered down to her bare legs. He paused for a moment. “I think I killed my brother this afternoon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I haven't been back to check. I can't.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “After everything else that happened, it was an accident in the end. Can you believe that? There were times when I actually thought about killing him, and in the end it was a simple accident.”
“You killed Benjamin?”
“So now you understand why I have to get off Thaxos. That Le Compte bitch is going to be after my blood.” He sighed. “Do you want to know the worst part? The most surprising part? I don't even feel that bad. What kind of person does that make me, huh? Benjamin had it coming.”
“He was a good man,” Estella replied. “Better than you.”
“And didn't he know it?” He smiled. “I've never been one for sentiment and nostalgia. What's done is done, but obviously I'll be pretty unpopular around here.”
“Unpopular?” She stared at him with an expression of horror. “Do you feel no remorse at all?”
“I'm sure I will,” he replied, “once I'm away from Thaxos. This place has dragged me down and turned my little heart black. I've always known that when I finally get away, I'll become a better person, and I figure now's the time to put that theory to the test. Quill promised to give me money if I helped him, so I'm here to cash in.” He looked up toward the lighthouse. “What kind of mood is he in? Generous? Charitable?”
“Go and find out for yourself,” she sneered, getting to her feet with her wet dress still clutched to her chest. “You disgust me.”
“You certainly don't disgust me,” he replied, pulling her dress away before she snatched it back. “Fancy helping me make my last night on Thaxos one to remember?” Reaching out, he tried to grab her breast, but she pulled away again. “I need something to take my mind off things,” he added.
“Go to Quill,” she replied, taking a step back. “Maybe he'll help you, maybe he won't. All I know is that Benjamin Wood was a good man.”
With that, she turned to walk away.
“You don't understand,” he snapped suddenly, rushing after her and grabbing her by the shoulder. “I'm desperate, Estella! When they find Benj
amin's body, they'll come after me!”
“Maybe they'll hang you in the town square,” she replied. “That would be rather fitting, don't you think? Of course, whereas Jennifer Kazakos deserved her resurrection, I don't think you'll be so lucky.”
“Help me!” he hissed. “I'm begging you!”
“Help you?” She stared at him for a moment. “You poor, miserable wretch, you're beyond help. You're like...” She paused. “We're quite similar in some ways.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” he replied. “Despite your best efforts, you're still pretty prim and proper deep down.”
“You'd be surprised,” she said darkly.
“Well,” he continued, “you might be willing to stick around on Thaxos and rot, but I'm getting out of here.” He looked down at her wet dress for a moment. “Shame, we could've had some fun together. See you around, Estella. It's been emotional.” Turning, he began to walk toward the lighthouse, while flicking his discarded cigarette to the ground.
“No,” Estella whispered, watching him with a growing sense of hatred. “You're not walking away from this.”
He smiled, before suddenly he stopped and let out a gasp. Reaching up, he grabbed his throat, and then he staggered forward and finally dropped to his knees.
“You killed your own brother today,” she continued, stepping over to him. “He was a good man. You don't get to walk away from your crime as if nothing happened.”
Unable to breathe, he clutched his throat.
“Do you know what it's like,” she added, “to torture a man and to know that no matter what you do, you can never actually kill him? Do you have any idea how much impotent rage that realization can bring to your soul?”
