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

by Juliann Whicker

  I turned and met his lips with mine, a brush that sent a thrill of undeniable energy through me. I pulled away, staring into his eyes, searching them for the reassurance, that it didn’t hurt him. The teapot started whistling and he stepped back, sliding his hand over my arm before he went to pour the hot water into the two black ceramic mugs. I wanted more than that touch. I wrapped my arms around my body aching for more, more of him, more of his life. He pulled the black bag from a narrow closet that I’d gotten from Puffer for the strudel.

  “I really don’t want to give this back to you. It’s the color of your eyes. Even after a dip in the Pond of Purity, it smells like you. I think I should inform you of my stalker tendencies. Some nights after I come back from Butching, I shower and then I fall asleep holding your sweater in my arms. I also follow you any time you go somewhere. The neighborhood where you went, the hairdresser, it’s not very safe. Until I clear up the mystery surrounding your parents deaths, I’m going to be cautious. To be honest, I don’t see that changing even afterwards. I don’t get attached very often, but I’m very attached to you, Violetta. I’m not used to being vulnerable, but I’m enjoying it very much.”

  I walked over to him, tugging the bag out of his hands until he let it go. I looked down at the bag before I dropped it and stepped over it, sliding my hands around his waist and pressing my face against his chest. I kissed the skin, feeling his heart pound, his skin heat beneath my lips.

  “I thought you loved Olivia.”

  He sighed and pulled me against him, the smell of chocolate not nearly as tempting as him. “She’s one of my Butchers. I’m worried about her turning renegade and losing her way. I’m responsible and it’s true, our parents thought we were well matched, but I never loved her. I never needed her so much that I sat outside her door and tried to hear her breathe.”

  I should have found that disturbing, but instead I remembered all the times I’d baked for him and stood outside his door, aching to see him, to touch him. I closed my eyes and was still, with him, in this world that didn’t make any sense, but was where I belonged, with him.

  Eventually I curled up on the couch beside him, clutching the chocolate mug in both hands. I stared at him over the rim, staring at him as I’d wanted to look at him all the time I’d been Sebastian. “All these boys in school are Butchers like you? They all have energy to give me? You’re all the same?”

  He frowned, only for a moment before his smile covered up the frown. “We’re all different, of course, but yes, as a Baker you can learn how to take energy from anyone. In all honesty, you’d be able to take energy even from those who aren’t Butchers. Landry can do that. It’s terrifying when he grabs you because he can take more energy faster than any other Baker I’ve heard of. My dad hates it.”

  I cocked my head as I took a sip of delicious chocolate that filled my mouth and made him somehow ever more tempting and delicious looking. I swallowed slowly, liquid desire trailing down my throat until I could speak. “Why would your dad mind that? Doesn’t it get exhausting for him to have Landry suck the life out of him? Unless it hurts the other Butchers…”

  He drank quickly, his eyes focused on my mouth, so much focus I could almost feel the weight of it. “Landry is his Baker. They have a connection that not many people have. My dad is the C.M. the one in charge over all the Butchers and Bakers, and Landry bakes for most of the Butchers in the district. It’s a positive sum relationship. Landry takes energy from my father, and then bakes energy into all his goods which sustains hundreds of Butchers. The thing about having a personal Baker is that the connection becomes intense and specific, like with your Jello and the biscuits, you knew what I would need because of our bond. Landry baked some things that would have maybe kept me alive from poison, which concerned him when he baked it because poison wasn’t part of the evening’s plan, but you made exactly what I needed that not only saved my life, but gave me enough energy to go back out into the darkness and drive it back, leading the other Butchers to victory.”

  I nodded then took another sip, but it was hard to understand what he was talking about. “So I’m your personal Baker?”

  He smiled slightly, glancing down at the brown chocolate swirls in his black mug. “Most Butchers in my position are much older than I am. I’ve been satisfied to have Landry as my Baker along with all the other boys, but now, I think the benefits of having a personal Baker are pretty clear.”

  I licked my lips and stared at my chocolate. “I really like baking for you. I’ve only really ever baked for my dad and Sebastian before. Not only do you give me enough, um, life energy or whatever, but it’s more challenging, more interesting, because I never know what I’m going to come up with. Jello? So weird and yet satisfying when I dipped my fingers in and knew it was right.”

  “You are more than welcome to bake for me as long as you like.” He put his hand on my knee sending a shock of electricity through me before he curled his fingers and firmly held his black mug. His eyes searched mine for a moment. “I like you, Violetta. I like kissing you and talking to you and listening to you play the violin. I am pretty certain that my father and Landry don’t kiss. It might get awkward for you if you decide that you’d rather have a more impersonal relationship between Butcher and Baker, or if you got tired of baking for me and just wanted to kiss me all the time. That is, I want you to be comfortable, to make your own decisions and not feel like you’re tied to me. I’m not the only Butcher and while I am a near perfect specimen, I have my shortcomings.” He gave me a slight smile while he waited, like he’d asked me an important question. Right, he had, but how in the world was I supposed to know what I wanted when I didn’t have the slightest idea what a Butcher or Baker even was. He wanted to know if I wanted to keep kissing him and Baking for him, or if I’d rather change.

  I stared at him and smiled as I brushed his hair back away from his face. “If you’re sure that you’re not in love with Olivia, I’d like to keep kissing you and baking for you. I mean, who else would take making out in public so in stride, and the whole stripping me out of my clothes on our first date, seriously, smooth. It kind of makes sense if you’re used to werewolves and zombies that you wouldn’t think I’m a complete basket case.”

  He grinned at me broadly, his eyes crinkling as he glowed at me, positively glowed. “It’s true that kissing you requires every bit of will-power I’ve managed to accrue in my time as a Butcher. I really, really don’t want to stop.”

  I smiled at him before I took another sip of chocolate. “I love this chocolate.”

  “It’s a little bit potent, but it should help balance your energy levels. Does it make you dizzy?”

  I looked up at him beneath my eyelashes. “Not as dizzy as you do.”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t any good. The only thing between us is two mugs half full of lukewarm chocolate. What happens when the chocolate is gone, when the mugs are on the ground, and I…” He inhaled and stood up, turning away from me. He looked very nice from the back.

  “Is there any way that I could sneak back into my room without the guards noticing me? Maybe you could hide me under your coat.”

  He shook his head, his hair swishing like dark ribbons. “They know that you are here. To be honest, I need to do some things before this evening’s festivities.”

  “Festivities?”

  He inhaled deeply, still facing the other way. I stood up and walked over, sliding my hand over his. It felt so nice to feel his hand in mine. “All Saint’s Day. There will be a feast at Candlestick.”

  “Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Manor...” I frowned at his back as my head sorted through the likelihood of the mysterious C.M. being Candlestick Maker at Candlestick Manor. I wasn’t going to say it; it was too ridiculous.

  “It is quite fantastic, isn’t it?” He sounded rueful, like he was aware how unlikely it was. He grabbed my hand back, squeezing it tight. “It’s not usual for someone with Butcher blood to turn their back on the C.M. like your father di
d. I can hardly believe that anyone would intentionally keep their children unaware of the dangers around them. You could have gone on the North Side any time and been infected by a werewolf, drained by a vampire, attacked by zombies or worse…”

  I tightened my grip on his hand while my heart pounded. “It’s not as if werewolves are the only dangers, I mean tigers…”

  I couldn’t breathe for a minute while everything got strange and foggy inside my head. Orion spun around and had my shoulders, speaking my name, but all I could think of was the headline: WEREWOLVES EAT PARENTS LEAVING ORPHANS IN FINANCIAL CRISIS.

  “They weren’t attacked by tigers, were they?” My voice was a rough whisper.

  He pulled me into his arms, cradling me against him, his heart pounding while he struggled to keep his voice even. “I’m so sorry, Violetta. I can’t tell you what killed your parents. I know that it was a monster, but it seemed excessively violent, even for a werewolf. Armand agrees.”

  I inhaled roughly. “Armand?”

  “He’s a…retired Butcher. He was on the scene almost immediately. Your brother knows something, but he hasn’t shared what he knows with me.”

  I clung to him, needing his strength, needing his warmth and his love while my world rocked, cracked, and broke in two. I cried. A lot. And then some more. Finally, I stopped, my head limp on Orion’s shoulder, his arms around me, holding me like he would never let me go as we sat on the couch, me more on him than the couch.

  “I need your handkerchief.”

  “The used one?” he asked in a low voice.

  I laughed, and shook my head, staring at the bare planes of his chest. I touched my fingers to his skin. “Tell me that it’s going to be okay.”

  He sighed and handed me a box of tissues he’d pulled out of the drawer in the stand by the bed. He could reach that far from the couch with his long arms. “It’s going to be okay, and then it’s going to be hard, and then it’s going to be impossible before it’s okay again. Life isn’t easy, not for anyone, but I’ve enjoyed mine much more ever since I’ve known you.”

  “You like stripping me naked.”

  “And being cried on.”

  “And kissing perfect strangers.”

  “And seeing you smile.”

  I sighed and wiped my face with the tissues, still too sad to smile, but still… I put my hands on either side of his face. “And cuddling my sweater?”

  He smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m making up for how hardened I was as a child. I never wanted a teddy bear or a puppy. I wanted an attack dog and a twelve inch dagger.”

  “Did you get it?”

  He shrugged. “Of course. I always get what I want. I’m very spoiled.”

  “And you always want things that you can have. That helps.”

  He glanced down at my lips. “Not always. I know that you don’t like to kiss me after you’ve been crying, but…”

  I leaned forward and cut off the words, kissing him like there weren’t four guards outside the door.

  Chapter 35

  The Butcher

  I could have kissed her forever. Quite literally, I could have kissed her to death, forgetting to eat, to drink, to breathe, lost in the unparalleled perfection that was Violetta Tancetta, my Baker. Somehow after a complicated conversation that I could barely follow I was so entranced by her camisole and her skin, and her lips, and her eyes, and her inhales, and the way that she looked up at me, like I was the only one who could save her, ah, yes, at any rate, somehow I managed to convince her to be my Baker and let me kiss her. After the Jello and biscuits, I had complete faith in her abilities as my Baker. If she wanted to kiss me, it was my duty to oblige her. It was also my duty to hold her while she cried and kiss her back when she kissed me. It would have been completely uncivil to stop kissing her until the very last moment when the hunger rose up so sharp in my throat that I felt her lips in my teeth and had to pull away, trembling. I needed Landry’s rolls, or her rolls, but eating the biscuits out of her camisole would not be a good idea, however utterly tempting it was.

  I unraveled myself from her, heavy-lidded pale green eyes gazing at me while her mouth was soft and plump from kissing. It was ridiculously difficult to do something as simple as walk to the door and open it. I peered out at the mature, no-nonsense Butchers who gazed back at me, their stances ready, their gazes completely professional and no-nonsense, even with Violetta hovering behind me, uncertain.

  “Take Baker Tancetta to her brother’s room where she can gather her toiletries and then to the baths where she can prepare for the upcoming festivities. Which holding cell is Mal in?”

  The tallest guard answered for them. “Malvolio is in cell number fifteen. He’s spoken with the C.M.”

  I nodded and turned to smile at Violetta. “I’m going to eat something while you get cleaned up. Someone will see to your injuries. I will meet you in the courtyard at, say, three-thirty?”

  She hesitated before she nodded and edged out of the room, shoulders hunching over into a slouch like Sebastian that helped minimize her assets. The guards fell around her making it impossible to sneak. I pulled off my shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders, buttoning it once in front, like the time before. My eyes met hers and for a moment I very nearly dragged her back into my room.

  “Three-thirty will be perfect.”

  No, it wasn’t perfect, now was perfect, three-thirty would give me enough time to eat, shower, rake Mal across the coals, and perhaps have a thoroughly tiresome conversation with the C.M. I wouldn’t have time to kiss her alone before we had to go to the banquet. We could skip it, of course, claiming fatigue, injuries, or other business, but I wanted very much for all the Butchers to see my Baker and to give her the respect that was her due.

  I ran down to the kitchen and burst through the doors, taking the plate that old man McGory gave me as soon as he saw me.

  “That Baker really cured werewolves? Landry sent this lot for you. I’ve heard rumors of the Baker being a Butcher, but how could Sebastian have changed so much? Not that I didn’t notice a change in him, but to have the hard edge of a blade and the softness of bread takes a level of dynamism, that I didn’t think he had.”

  By the time he finished talking, I had consumed the contents of the plate. I handed it to him and took the next plate he gave me. “Sister’s the Baker, brother’s the Butcher,” before I continued until the hunger wasn’t as sharp and piercing.

  His pale and whispy eyebrows rose as he moved to prep another plate. “So, she’s been staying with the brother and none the wiser? Well, not none, obviously,” he said, gesturing at me. “I think I’m making pizza for dinner tomorrow. Just this once. He always wanted pizza. I always felt so sorry for him, but they say he’s got serious Butcher chops. He’ll be after your title.”

  “He can have it.” I took the last plate and walked out of the kitchen with it, towards the shower and fresh clothes. I didn’t have a shirt on and boys were staring at me. I probably looked fairly uncivilized, but on this day, being out of bed when I could have stayed there with Violetta, I really didn’t care.

  “Orion!” Francis looped his arm around my bare shoulders for a moment before the skin-to-skin contact got to be too much for him. He broke away, but still grinned at me, apparently delighted by some fiasco he had to share.

  “Francis. Have you talked to the C.M.?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “Boring. What is interesting is that Toby and Andy caught Tancetta kissing Olivia, and freaked out! They actually pulled knives, and it took a good five minutes for Tancetta to disarm them without hurting them. I’ve never seen him so irritated and I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. Olivia was astonishing, trying to protect him from them, like she hadn’t seen what he could do last night. The girl’s gone soft in the brain. I’m telling you, they are going to have beautiful Butcher babies. What about you?” He glanced down at my bare chest and then up to my face. “I can’t believe that you called in guards from outside so that none
of us got to see her. They won’t even gossip.”

  “That is the point.” I slapped him on the shoulder before I went in to the showers. He followed me and I realized that I’d had Tancetta in the shower room with me. Had I gotten completely naked? No, I hadn’t, had I? She’d been very anxious to be somewhere else. What if she wasn’t impressed with my attributes? I swallowed and shook off my insecurities.

  “The C.M. has been waiting for you to ‘wake up’ for ages. He’s been personally taking all the reports from the Butchers so that you can ‘recuperate’.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Francis, you need to get a girlfriend.”

  “I agree. Do you know any delicious Bakers available, or Butchers for that matter. It seems like as soon as you find one that isn’t a boy, she’s already dating someone else. What is that new scar from?”

  I glanced down at my leg where he pointed and noticed a new angry looking gash that I hadn’t noticed. I shrugged. “Vampire. Last night was incredible.”

  “I’ll say. You seemed like a destroying angel. I couldn’t help but follow you however far into hell you took me. I didn’t feel any fear, only the hunger and the satisfaction as I erased another shadow.” He sighed and stared off into space, remembering, but it only lasted a few moments before he grinned at me again. “Olivia didn’t like hearing about the Baker. I think there’s a little bit of a thing there. Sebastian didn’t like hearing about it either, particularly when he put the clues together and realized that his sister was here with you pretending to be him. He went to wait for her in his room, and Olivia wanted to go with him, and he had to somehow explain how he needed to be alone with his sister, and she got furious, and then …”

  I tuned him out as I dunked under the shower, instead hearing Violetta’s breathing, slow and deep as she’d slept beside me. After a quick shower, I brushed off Francis, dressed and headed for cell number fifteen, down the stairs, past the man cave, as Violetta had called it, down two more flights of stairs, down two more halls, taking the right intersecting hall to stand outside cell number fifteen.