by Amy Cross
“Okay,” she said, forcing a smile, “now let's -”
She frowned as she saw that Portia was scratching at a spot on the side of her face.
“Don't do that, darling,” she told the girl. “What's wrong? Do you have a rash?”
“I don't know, Mummy,” Portia replied, clearly in a little discomfort. “It hurts a bit.”
“Me too,” Lucian added, turning his head slightly to reveal a patch of sore, bloodied skin just to one side of his nose.
“Mummy, it hurts,” Marcus whimpered, scratching his neck and starting to wear away some of the flesh. “It's really quite sore.”
“Don't scratch,” she told him, even though she could see that he was in a great deal of discomfort. “My dear, you must be brave and ignore such things.”
“But Mummy -”
“Enough!” she hissed, pushing his hand away. “Marcus, I have told you that you must resist, and as your mother I must be obeyed!”
“Of course,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry.”
“Now let me see,” she continued, leaning closer to examine the sore, dry rash that was spreading over the skin of her three children. As she peered at Portia's face, she saw the pain and fear in the little girl's eyes, and for the first time she felt absolutely powerless to do anything. She tried to work out how a mother should handle such a situation, but no answers came to her mind, and after a moment she realized that parts of the child's cheek seemed to be peeling away.
“Mother,” Marcus whispered. “Look.”
Turning to him, she saw that he was pulling a strip of skin from around his mouth, revealing the clear, unstained bone beneath.
“Stop!” she hissed, reaching out and pushing his hands away, before trying to carefully put the strip of skin back in place. Before she could finish, however, she saw that another section was already falling away, as if her youngest son's entire face was starting to disintegrate. “What is this?” she muttered, with a mounting sense of fear, as she scrambled with trembling hands to hold his flesh together.
“Mummy,” Portia whimpered. “It hurts.”
She turned and saw that a section of skin around the girl's left cheek had come away, revealing a round eyeball staring out of a bony socket.
“What's happening to us, Mummy?” Lucian asked, with tears running down his disintegrating face. “Why can't you make it stop?”
“I don't know,” she stammered, watching as more of Portia's face fell off. Although she desperately turned from one child to the next, trying to hold their faces in place, she finally realized that there was nothing more she could do. Sitting back, she found herself staring at her three skeletal-faced children.
“Mummy,” Portia sobbed, “what's wrong with us? And why are there cracks in everything?”
III
“Now,” Doctor Lassiter said, placing a cold compress against Estella's forehead, “you must try to calm yourself. Panicking will do you no good. You're strong enough and wise enough to find a solution without panicking, do you understand?”
“Their faces, though,” she replied, before sitting up suddenly on the sofa in his office. Looking around, she realized she had no recollection of the journey down from the mansion. It was as if one moment she had been sitting on the bed with her three children, and the next she was down in the doctor's surgery.
“I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for everything you saw,” Doctor Lassiter continued, “I just...”
His voice trailed off as he stared at her.
“What is it?” she asked. “You look troubled, Paul.”
“It's nothing, except... Estella, will you not consider running away with me?”
The words were so unexpected, and so sudden, she had trouble believing that they had really come from his lips. “I beg your pardon?” she stammered.
“You are so beautiful and so kind, and I can't deny my love for you a moment longer. Emma is barren and can't give me the child I crave, whereas you are a fertile goddess. My life can only have meaning, Estella, if you are my wife.”
“I'm married to Baron Le Compte,” she reminded him, feeling a little flustered even though, deep down, she wasn't exactly horrified by the doctor's advances. “I cannot possibly run away with you.”
“Not even if I face him in a duel?”
She raised both eyebrows at once, in shock.
“I could challenge him to a fight,” Doctor Lassiter continued, with uncharacteristic vigor, “a fight for your honor and for the right to have your hand in marriage. It would be a fair fight, and the gods of love would oversee and ensure that the right man won.” He took a deep breath. “I wholeheartedly believe that man would be me.”
“I came down here for help with my children,” she told him, “not to incite some kind of war.”
“But my love for you is too strong,” he replied, pulling her closer. “Estella, you are the perfect woman in every respect. Kind, compassionate, motherly and strong, and so wise, yet also beautiful and filled with all the qualities that make a man lose control. I must have you, I need you. Estella...”
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said suddenly.
Turning, she looked for him again, but there was still no sign.
“What's happening?” she whispered, before spotting a series of cracks slowly, but visibly, extending across the wall of Doctor Lassiter's office. “Is this even real?”
“I shall tell Emma that I'm leaving her for you,” Doctor Lassiter continued. “It will be hard on her, but given time she will understand. Then again, she and I have children together, which will make things difficult.”
“Children?” She turned to him, shocked. “No. No, Paul, you don't have children with Emma. You just told me, not two minutes ago, that she's barren and can't give you children. Those exact words came from your lips.”
“Barren?” He frowned. “No, Estella, Emma and I have plenty of beautiful children. That isn't the problem. The problem is my love for you.”
As if to prove his point, a child began to cry in the next room, followed by another.
Estella got to her feet, feeling as if the world was shifting and changing all around her, constantly in flux and toying with her mind. At that moment, another drop of rain fell, as if from nowhere, onto the back of her neck, and she spun around as if she expected to find someone standing right behind her.
“Are you alright?” Doctor Lassiter asked. “Estella, you seem...”
“What's she doing here?” Madeleine's voice said suddenly, sounding hate-filled and scornful.
Estella looked around again, yet she knew that Madeleine was still up at the mansion.
“I'm losing my mind,” she whispered, feeling yet more drops of rain on her skin as she hurried across the room. Stopping at the door, she looked into the next room and saw, to her horror, that Emma Lowndes was sitting on a stool while breastfeeding a child, while all around on the floor there were scores of beautiful, happy babies, all playing together.
“As you can see,” Doctor Lassiter said, stepping up behind her, “Emma and I have a large family now, but Estella... I would give it all up for you. You can't stop me, I shall fight Edgar Le Compte, and while one of us shall surely die, the victor shall have your hand and your love.”
She turned to him, horrified by the idea.
***
“Ten paces, gentlemen,” Benjamin explained, as Doctor Lassiter and Edgar stood with their backs to one another in the town square, each man holding a pistol. “You will fire once, on my command, and may God have mercy on your souls. The winner gets the lady.”
“I care only for Estella,” Edgar said firmly. “I am doing this to prove my love for her.”
“As am I,” Doctor Lassiter replied. “It is my love for her that burns greatest, Le Compte, not yours.”
“No,” Edgar continued, “I love Estella more.”
“No, I do!”
“Stop!” Estella called out, pushing her way through the crowd but stopping when she got to the fro
nt, horrified by the sight of the two men preparing for their duel. Again, time seemed to have moved forward in a sudden burst. A moment ago she had been in Doctor Lassiter's office, starting at the children, and now the duel was about to take place. She watched as Benjamin gave the signal, and as Edgar and Doctor Lassiter began to take ten paces in opposite directions.
“It's so romantic,” said Jennifer Kazakos, who was standing nearby. “They must both love you very much, Estella.”
“You're so lucky,” added Evangeline Mediaci, turning to Estella, “to have two men who feel this way about you.”
“But -” Pausing, Estella stared at Evangeline for a moment. “But you're dead,” she whispered finally. “You died a long time ago.”
“I did?” Evangeline replied with a frown. “Oh. Yes, you're right. I was murdered, I believe, but... If that is the case, then how can I be here right now, talking to you?”
Estella opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so, a voice rang out across the town square.
“Fire!”
Turning, Estella saw both Doctor Lassiter and Edgar firing their pistols, followed by a gasp from the crowd. Pushing her way forward, she realized to her horror that both men had slumped to the ground. She raced first to Edgar and found that there was a gunshot wound directly above his heart.
“Silver-tipped bullets,” he stammered, clearly in pain. “Fatal to a vampire.”
“Silver-tipped bullets?” she replied. “Fatal to a vampire? No, Edgar, that's simply not true. Silver-tipped bullets wouldn't hurt you at all.”
“I died for our love,” he whispered, weakening by the second. He reached up and took her hand in his. “It was worth it, Estella. All I care about is you. Remember that. Our love... our love is eternal... my darling Estella...” With that, his head tipped back and he let out a slow death rattle.
“Edgar, no!” she shouted, kneeling next to him and cradling his body, but she realized after a moment that he was truly dead. “Edgar,” she sobbed, before looking over and seeing Doctor Lassiter on the ground nearby. Setting Edgar down, she hurried over and found that Doctor Lassiter had also suffered a gunshot wound directly above the heart.
“I'm done for,” he whispered, as blood ran from the corner of his mouth. “Estella, my love, I... I only hope you know that my life was lived entirely for you. If I couldn't be your husband, then I would prefer death to a life without you at my side. My dear, my darling Estella...” He paused, before falling still.
“Paul?” she whispered, kneeling next to him and cradling his body in her arms. “Wake up, Paul! Edgar is dead! I am yours now!”
She waited for a response, before realizing that he was gone. Still holding his dead body, she looked over at Edgar and then at the crowd, and she began to see that everyone on Thaxos had turned out to witness the tragedy of her two lovers killing one another.
“It's your dream,” a voice said nearby.
Turning, Estella saw that Anna Kazakos had stepped forward, away from the rest of the crowd.
“Even in a dream,” Anna continued, with a degree of seriousness in her gaze that seemed unusual for a child, “even in a fantasy where you control everything, it all ends up as a nightmare. Face it, Estella, you're incapable of happiness. You will always, always find a way to ruin things.”
“No,” Estella stammered, as tears ran down her cheeks, “you're wrong, I can be happy...”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Anna replied. “After all, self-deceit has always been one of your greatest abilities.”
“You're nothing but a foul, filthy witch,” another voice added. “We should burn you at the stake.”
Estella turned and saw to her horror that her dead mother was standing nearby.
“I saw this in your soul,” Nora Graves continued. “Your evil and stupidity, Estella, drove me to suicide. It's your fault that I'm dead.”
“No,” Estella said, letting Doctor Lassiter's body fall to the ground as she stood. Stepping over the doctor's body and then over Edgar's too, she made her way to her mother. “Mother, I'm not evil, I swear.”
“I saw it in you when you were a child,” Nora continued. “I remember when you were born, and the doctor placed you in my arms, and I felt a shiver run through my body at the mere sight of you. I pretended things were different, of course. I wanted to give you every chance to prove me wrong, so your father and I raised you as best we could, but that sliver of evil was always present in your soul and there was nothing I can do to make it leave. As each year passed, I saw the evil blossoming more and more, filling you up until I could take it no more. You can no more be happy, Estella, than a snake can grow legs and walk upright. It's just not in your nature.”
Shaking her head, Estella took a step back, before turning and seeing to her horror that both Doctor Lassiter and Edgar were now nothing more than skeletons in the dust.
“You don't even know which of them you truly loved, do you?” Anna Kazakos asked. “Go on, Estella, make a choice. Is it the poor, humble doctor who cares only about helping people? Or is it the strong, bold vampire baron who treats you with contempt?”
“I -”
“Choose!” Anna shouted, suddenly filled with anger. “Choose one of them!”
“I can't!” Estella stammered, turning and running past the crowd. She had no idea where she was going, but as she raced along one sun-bleached street and then another, she cared only about getting away from everyone, about escaping their harsh gazes. Finally, reaching the entrance to the cemetery, she slipped through the gate and found herself surrounded by tombstones. There was a part of her that wanted to turn back, but something compelled her to keep going.
“This isn't really happening,” she whispered to herself, watching as fresh cracks grew across each stone she passed, as if the crack itself was following her. She recognized the names on the stones, too. There was her mother's grave, and Evangeline Mediaci's, and Joshua Wood's, and then she stopped as she found Edgar and Doctor Lassiter's graves too. Turning, she saw another grave, one that made her heart run cold for a moment.
Kate Langley.
“You,” she whispered. “This is all your fault.”
Stepping closer to the grave, she knelt before the stone and felt her anger growing.
“People blame me,” she continued, as tears ran down her cheeks. “They think I'm weak and indecisive, but the truth is, everything was perfect before you showed up. Even now that you're dead, you reach out from the grave and ruin my life. Why won't you just leave me alone and let me be happy?”
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said firmly.
Ignoring him, and ignoring the spots of rain that were falling on the back of her neck, she looked down at the grass and finally she began to dig, using her bare hands to pull soil out of the way, digging deeper and deeper with raging fury until finally she felt the lid of Kate's coffin. Frantically scraping more dirt away, she finally took hold of the coffin's edge and pulled the lid aside with her bare hands.
She gasped when she saw what was inside.
Kate's body had already begun to decompose. Most of her flesh had rotted away, although some remained and worms, beetles and maggots continued their work, crawling through the gaps in the dead woman's bones. Her eyes were closed and her hands were on her chest, and she was wearing a white gown that someone had obviously taken great care to fit around her corpse. Still, there could be no doubt that her body was being rapidly eaten away.
“You,” Estella whispered, climbing down into the grave and then reaching into the coffin, placing a hand on the side of Kate's rotten face. “What's so special about you? Why did Edgar fall for you? Why can't -”
Suddenly Kate's eyes opened, staring up at her.
“Do you still blame me?” Kate asked, reaching out and placing her rotten hands on Estella's shoulders. “Can't you see? It was you, Estella. It was always you. Even if I'd never come to Thaxos, you'd still have found a way to screw everything up. That's just who you are!”
&nbs
p; “You dare to lecture me on love?”
Kate began to laugh, almost as if she was celebrating some kind of victory.
“No!” Estella hissed, reaching down and taking hold of Kate's head before pulling hard, tearing it away from her neck. Lifting the head up, she watched as beetles and maggots wriggled through the decomposing flesh, some even scurrying onto her own hands. She held Kate's head up high and began to squeeze, hoping to crush the skull. “I'm not some pitiful, doomed creature,” Estella said firmly. “You might want to paint me that way, but I refuse to become some kind of tragic figure. I will get what I want and then -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw that some of the maggots from Kate's rotten head were now on her own hands and had started burrowing into her skin. She tried to drop the head, but her fingers were fusing to Kate's skin and now her arms were becoming discolored. Scrambling out of the grave, she smashed what was left of Kate's head against the nearby wall, finally managing to let the pieces of bone and brain drop to the floor as a hoard of beetles tumbled out of the broken skull. Turning, she looked in horror at her own hands and saw that they were starting to rot. She could feel maggots crawling between the bones of a wrist, and a moment later she saw one of the little white creatures poking out through her skin. A fraction of a second after that, she felt a sharp pain further up her arm and saw that a beetle had begun to chew on her flesh.
“Estella,” Nixon's voice said firmly, as if his disembodied presence was nearby.
She turned. There was no sign of him, but her gaze quickly settled upon Edgar's mansion, high on the hill overlooking the port town. Finally, she realized what was happening.
IV
“Edgar?” she called out as she made her way along the cold, dark corridor. “Edgar, I know you're here. I know what you're doing. At least have the courtesy to face me while you torture me.”
