Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night

by Juliann Whicker

  I laughed, a short terse sound while I tightened my grip on his shirt.

  “You said that you rounded them all up. How can you be certain?”

  He shrugged, raising his hands to break my hold. “Her brother performed well this night. I came here when you didn’t return. No one liked being directed by a strange masked Butcher, but with the attacks, we had to call in the upper levels, even made a request to retirees to assist in the mess you’ve allowed to flourish in your city. If it weren’t for Violetta, this night would be an unqualified disaster.”

  I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. “At this moment I’m caring far less about my Butcher duties than angry that something hurt her.”

  He frowned. “Did she get bitten? It didn’t look like it where I was standing, but I didn’t want to scare her by going too close. I’ve rarely seen anyone so terrified, and so brave. I believe she was going to beat me with her rolling pin.” His lips curled up and I slammed him against the wall again.

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem getting close when she went to see you.”

  His smiled widened and his teeth gleamed. “Do you follow her everywhere she goes?”

  “Yes. Does that surprise you? Why are we talking about this? What do you want?” I gritted my jaw to keep from yelling at him, hitting him, doing something irrational. I had too much energy, too much hunger. I should be out in the darkness, pushing it back, leading my Boys.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling his face close to me. I stared into those golden eyes, searching him for the brother I’d trusted with more than my life.

  “Will you swear to protect her? Swear on your soul?”

  After a moment he nodded, a quick jerk of his head, his dark rust hair flicking my cheek.

  “I’ll protect Vanilla Jasmine with my life. The window is barred, but we’ll have someone outside just in case. I’ll be here until you return. Brother,” He said, gripping my neck and squeezing while he grinned at me. “Be the Butcher. Embrace the hunger.”

  That moment, I felt something I hadn’t felt for years, like I had a brother.

  I broke away, stalking down the hall until I broke into a run. I belonged to the night, even if my heart ached for Violetta.

  I passed a different guard at the door, a scarred Butcher who glared at me suspiciously as I passed him at a loping run, down the steps then swinging over the side of my car, my body moving more tightly wound than ever before.

  I sped, the night wrapping around me like a cloak, the wind against my face like flying as I shifted down, flying over the pavement, the tires a whir of motion against the highway, one exit, two, and then I was there, changing lanes and exiting at ninety miles an hour.

  Soon enough, I drove through the dark streets beneath broken streetlights while inhuman howls echoed through the night. The Butchers should have pushed them back by now. It was after three a.m. Most things felt dawn coming on and fled the coming day. Not tonight.

  I smiled as I spun the steering wheel, spinning across a lot teeming with zombies, my tires spitting dust into the air as I vaulted into the crowd. My car would need washing down when I finished up.

  I’d never felt like that as I fought, somehow above everything, like the world moved slower than I moved, like heaven opened up and angels fought with me. I heard singing as I destroyed the masses, movement as effortlessly as falling. This must be a continuation of her dream sequence. I smiled as I brought out a cleaver from my reinforced inside pocket and threw it at a creature swelling and bubbling outwards, perhaps a boogeyman like the Greek. I followed the arc of the cleaver and thoroughly butchered the creature, spinning and moving like a hurricane through the crowd.

  I heard yelling behind me and felt the impact as a group of Butchers engaged with my horde. I frowned as I slowed down, unable to engage at my highest capacity when worried about my own. It was just as well. Butchering should never be uncontrolled. I smiled again as I pushed forward, away from the Butchers who had joined the rear, pushing back, North, against monsters I’d never faced, a horde that grew and pulsed around me. Something had stirred the deepness, drawing it out, towards the light. We hadn’t had such a motivated mass for decades.

  Lucky me.

  The more that came, the faster I moved, my body a perfect weapon, experience flowing through me, around me, over me, the Butchers gathering behind me, following my lead, spreading out to contain the horde while I pushed deeper, harder into the throng. The scent of death, rotting corpses, the jaws of hell gaped after me, and I danced in it to the song of my whip and the drum beat that pounded in my veins.

  Violetta. She was my heaven, my purpose, the strength that lifted my arm. The hunger had never been sweeter, the night more mine.

  Time blurred and flowed around me, around my Butchers. I knew the older ones, at the University Calder students usually went, but retired Butchers, men raising children, I did not want any of them to fall. I would not want children to suffer for lack of a father as my Violetta suffered.

  I felt the shift, the massive slow burning fury of the mindless masses turned to fear as they retreated. The Butchers behind me pushed forward, their hunger growing past the point of rational thought as they engaged.

  I had to stop, to call them off, to allow the forces to flee into shadows before my Butchers came to harm. But the hunger sang in me harder and brighter than in any of them. These were creatures for my taking.

  I fought the hunger, the drive to destroy for two more blocks, pushing the darkness North, their numbers thinning as they broke and fled, Butchers chasing them into the night with screams of fury that brought a echoing cry to my lips. I bit it back and breathed hard, hitting my thigh with the hilt of my knife hard enough to welt. Layers of bruises were on my thigh. I hadn’t noticed. I looked down and saw the tattered hem of my coat. Where were we?

  I wrapped my whip around my arm, ignoring the tempting ghoul to my right, fighting back the hunger. My Butchers were lost to it, even the retired ones who knew better. I never should have let this get so out of hand.

  I let my whip crack in the air, singing a song of discipline that had been embedded in them from their first moments training. Several hesitated, automatically drawing their own whips, answering my call, joining my song, the crack of whips filling the air, sending the darkness screaming in terror. We did not chase, we held strong. I cracked my whip over and over again, the song of victory that the other Butchers joined, all of them until one final figure unclasped his whip around his chest and nodded at me before he joined in the song, his movement clumsy at first, unpracticed until Sebastian Tancetta found the rhythm, the connection to my Butcher Boys. Olivia, Maria, Toby, Andrew, Francis, so many I recognized as they stumbled towards me, the hunger in their faces a palpable force.

  “To the Bakers,” I called once they were surrounding me before I led them to the werewolf seal courtyard. On the way back, we chased a few stragglers with our whips, but never lost ourselves to the hunger.

  I let my Butchers feast as the sky grew pale, pink tinged above me. Pink like Violetta’s tongue.

  I paced up and down my Butchers, making certain none of them were overwhelmed with the hunger, terror, exhaustion, but they all nodded at me, meeting my eyes with trust and respect. I felt that, their connection to me. Even the older ones, Butchers come out of retirement, something that hadn’t been required for a very long time, looked at me with calm acceptance and loyalty.

  I was their Butcher. I blinked and turned away from them. I’d never had this before, this connection. It had been growing steadily ever since I’d met Violetta, connecting with her, perhaps allowing me to open up to others, but how could I accept their loyalty when I wanted nothing more than to wrap my life around one flower and keep her safe?

  I jogged to my car, finding it as disgusting as I’d expected. I draped a blanket over the seat before I drove to the hairdresser’s shop where I’d hose it down. I felt my heart pound in my chest
. I hadn’t eaten bread like the other Butchers. My hunger wouldn’t be satisfied by simple bread, unless she hand fed it to me with her fingers.

  “Orion.” Sebastian’s voice called me from the shadowy outbuilding behind the shop.

  “Butcher,” I said, turning to him with a smile. I half expected him to hold a gun at me or something, but the only thing in his hands was the black mask, laces trailing through his fingers like oil spilling to the ground.

  He shook his head. “Why didn’t you come back? We were nearly overrun. Anthony, I actually had to hit him in the face a few times before he realized that he was fighting on the wrong side. After the renegades joined us, we still were losing. After the graduates came, we were still losing. The retirees came, and still, the forces of the night were growing strong, taking us, our energy, our will until you came. Why were you gone so long?”

  “Did anyone die?”

  He shook his head, no.

  I exhaled and stripped off my shirt, spraying myself under the icy stream of water, ridding myself of all the dark and vile things, but also the last traces of Jello, or Violetta’s touch.

  “Your sister was attacked by werewolves.” I turned off the hose and shoved back my dripping hair.

  His eyes widened and he stepped forward, concern warring with shock. “Is she safe?”

  “She’s well. She fought them off with biscuits and a rolling pin.”

  “Look,” he said, hesitatingly. “I appreciate that you’re concerned about my sister, but you’re the Butcher. How could you leave your Boys for one girl?”

  I took a deep breath to keep from snarling at him. I was wasting time. She was in my bed. She needed my strength, and I still had so much energy, so much life that I hadn’t expended on the nightmares. And she was in my bed. I needed to go to confession for the thoughts that flooded my mind.

  “Do you know what caused the unusual amount of disturbance this evening?”

  He frowned and swallowed hard. “I think I did it.” He shook his matted hair out of his eyes. “We’ve been on the offensive, pushing down into the chasm. I think we broke a seal.”

  I raised my eyebrows, whistling slightly. “You’ll need to report exactly what you did to the C.M.”

  He scowled at his boots, shuffling his enormous feet nervously. “I’ve never talked to him.”

  I slapped his shoulder with my wet hand. “He’s great. To my Boys anyway. You turned against the renegades on your own. Come on. You need to eat some bread. I’ll give you a ride.”

  I spread out the blanket that still smelled a little bit like Vanilla and Jasmine so he could sit down without smearing gore all over my seats.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, looking at me nervously, his pale green eyes so unlike Violettas, and yet even more vulnerable in some ways.

  I nodded. “Put your mask on. We’re going to do this with as much impact as possible.”

  He nodded and pulled on the mask, tying it with trembling fingers. The Boy needed to eat Landry’s bread.

  I drove down the alley, pushing through the Butchers who got out of my way, looking at me with curiosity until I parked with a jerk.

  “Butcher’s Boys,” I said, loud enough that they could all hear me. They looked better as a whole, much happier now that the first rays of light were catching the buildings around us in silhouettes of streaks of gold.

  “I’d like to introduce our newest member, a Butcher who saw the darkness, and rose to defeat it. Tancetta, remove your mask.”

  Tancetta took it off, glancing at me as he let it fall.

  I enjoyed the shock on Toby’s features when he saw Tancetta beside me.

  “I thought he was a Baker.”

  A lot of other boys murmured their confusion while Francis raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly so his dark curls bounced.

  “The hunger gnaws on his bones. I’d like you to welcome him to your ranks, a renegade who haunts the shadows no more.”

  “He was a renegade?” Mal’s voice chilled me and his eyes when they met me, held something strange in them. My connection did not extend to him. Was he the one who had poisoned me? Mal might be unpleasant, but he was true to the cause. Unless someone had convinced him that poisoning me was for the cause.

  I shook my head and pushed Sebastian out of my car. “I expect you all to rejuvenate before dark. Tonight we will make sure the shadows do not return.”

  The Boys howled, even the retired Butchers, who were too old to get excited about such things. I revved the engine and drove away, leaving them to their feast.

  I had somewhere to be, somewhere that called me more powerfully than the night, the hunger, my duty as Butcher.

  Chapter 34

  The Baker

  I woke up with the sun falling over my face. I turned my head, burrowing under my pillow. Why hadn’t I closed my curtains last night? I hated waking up with the sun in my eyes. Maybe my mom had opened them to help get me out of bed. Did I have a gymnastics meet today?

  I sat up then fought a wave of dizziness, struggling to stay upright. Instead of my room at home, cheerful pinks and blue with a soft fuzzy rug underfoot, I was in Orion’s sparse room, black bedspread, barred window on the wall, and Orion sprawled on the black bed beside me, arm over his face.

  Orion. Of course. Everything rushed back to me, my parents dead, my brother abandoning me, me taking his place at Calder, School for boys, falling deeper and deeper in love with Orion, my brother’s sworn enemy.

  Had I really hand fed him Jello in the middle of the night?

  “You’re awake,” he said without moving, his voice muffled under his arm, but still his voice, a voice that sent a shiver through me.

  “What time is it?”

  He moved the arm, squinting at me. “Time?” He picked his phone off the side table, glanced at it then tossed it aside. “Does it matter?” He rose up on an elbow, his eyes flicking from my lips to my eyes and back again. I could practically feel the pressure of his lips on mine, burning sweet life into me that I needed desperately.

  My heart started racing. Something wasn’t right. No, nothing was right. What had happened last night? I felt a little better, but still so tired, so desperate for his warmth, his touch. More than that, his arms. I wanted him to hold me and make all the terrifying thoughts disappear.

  The sun shone over my legs beneath the black coverlet. I stretched out beneath the blanket until I came up against his leg, his warmth and life more real and potent than the actual sun. He reached over, pulling me close to him before he nuzzled my hair.

  I closed my eyes and relaxed against his chest, warmth blossoming between us until he rolled onto his back, my body propped on his chest. He gazed up at me, a half smile on his mouth.

  “Are you going to kiss me, or do we have to go to the gazebo first?”

  I frowned down at him for a moment until I remembered making him promise to make out with me in public again. I bit my lip. “Did I really say that? Did all of that really happen with the Jello and the dog boys?”

  He stared at me, his eyes serious, a slight frown between his eyebrows as he lifted a hand to stroke my cheek. There was a rational explanation for everything. There had to be. Orion would be freaking out if there was something wrong. Wouldn’t he? Nothing felt wrong when he was touching me. Everything felt right, perfectly, wonderfully right.

  “Orion, are you okay?” I asked, carefully, studying his face, perfect creamy skin, eyes deepest, darkest chocolate that glittered brightly. He looked really, really good, better than good. The man looked perfectly healthy, without the faintest shadow beneath his eyes. He glowed with life, energy, and vitality that I wanted.

  He flashed me a brilliant smile. “Of course. I need to touch you, to give you my energy. I still have too much from your Jello.”

  I swallowed. He was too beautiful, too real for this conversation. “From my Jello? Did it really help you feel better?”

  He sat up and I found myself on his lap, his arms around me his dark eyes intens
e and serious. “Violetta, last night you were attacked by werewolves.”

  I gasped as my heart pounded and I put my hand against it, over the pink camisole, feeling the rough crumbs on my skin, crumbs from the biscuits I’d made to feed to the dog boys, werewolves.

  I shook my head, looking down at the buttons of his shirt instead of at Orion. “That’s impossible.” He was supposed to explain until things made sense, not make jokes.

  “You cut your cheek. Landry will have something for it.”

  I put my hand up, wincing from the pain, remembering the light fixture. “Landry, Landry the Baker.”

  He nodded, concern on his face as he brushed his fingers around my cut and bruised cheek. I felt a thrill of pleasure at that touch, pleasure and something else.

  “Orion,” I said, lifting my head to search his eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed them tight. “Tell me what happened. I can’t handle this, just tell me what’s going on.”

  He slid his hands around my waist, a sliver of skin between my top and shorts burning from the contact. He cocked his head at me while his eyebrows drew together, dark, deep, beautiful eyebrows then slowly slid his hands beneath my shirt until he was gripping my sides, skin on skin.

  “When I touch you like this, how do you feel? I’m giving you my energy. You put so much into your baking last night, so this morning you need a lot. I can feel the flow of life ebbing out of me, into you, through your skin, revitalizing you.” His low voice flowed into me until I realized what he’d said.

  I threw myself backwards, out of his hands while I stared at him. Sebastian always said I sucked the life out of him. His energy, was that why I felt so much better when he touched me? That wasn’t possible. “Are you going to start making sense at some point? Yes, there were dogs that turned into boys after they ate my biscuits, but they weren’t just hairy men, but actual animals with the snapping jaws and sharp teeth.” I glared at him. “You’re supposed to explain it to me so that it makes sense, not tell me that I was attacked by werewolves.”