by Ross Turner
Vivian then set about recruiting her closest friends in the city, and when she thought of turning to friends, she meant of course turning to those who had assisted and advised her the most over the past few years, offering her invaluable help and aid.
Selecting only those who had offered in the past to help her voluntarily, she swiftly and efficiently separated the willing from the unwilling, and soon rallied her numbers. Not only did she choose just those who had assisted her in the past, but she made sure to select men and women from very different backgrounds: farming, business, stonework, and even past poachers, to ensure that their view of whatever problems were presented to them was as wide and all-encompassing as physically possible.
These few select men and women, numbering only seven in total, became the first trial for her new House.
All the while though, even as Vivian worked and rallied and planned, preparing those she had recruited for the task ahead of them, whilst still somehow dealing with it all herself, she thought of Kael. In every spare moment, and sometimes even when she was supposed to be otherwise occupied with thought, her mind wandered to the image of his face in her mind. She was simply unable to forget that final look he’d cast her before he’d left, and every time she remembered it, the sight in her mind’s eye brought fresh emotion to her, all over again.
Thankfully, since her return, up until that point, Vivian had managed to somehow elude her nightmares, and had slept rather peacefully. Occasionally she had dreamt in fleeting images of Kael, but for the most part her dreams had been filled with the blissful silence of nothing in particular.
Five days after her return however, once things with her new system had begun to settle, Vivian suffered the dread of her night terrors once more, and, seemingly out of the blue, she found herself faced with one she hadn’t suffered for a long while.
Stood back in the library of Featherstone Keep, a whistling wind whipping through the corridors, Vivian shivered violently against the cold seeping through to her bones. The temperature was chilling, and her breath steamed out in front of her face in great wisps of cloud.
All about her, strewn across the large, square table and across the floor, were mountains of books, all torn and ripped and burned, discarded everywhere she looked.
Glancing up, her mouth dropping open in horror, Vivian saw that the walls of the room were all smeared and streaked blood red.
Then her hands suddenly felt sticky and rough. She looked down again, only this time to be disgusted at what she saw.
She too was covered in blood, and in her stained hands she held the blade that had spilled all of this pain and anguish. The knife was small and its edge was nicked a hundred and more times, damaged by the countless bones it had split in its lifetime.
Vivian dropped the blade with a sharp breath and fled from the scene, stumbling over the piles of books all around her as she did so. Bursting out into the corridor she shivered again and rubbed her bare arms with her hands, for out here it was even colder.
The lit torches spaced evenly out along the walls stretched away in both directions all the way down the corridor. Then, to her right, the long line of torches slowly began to extinguish, darkening the hallway at the far end. Closer and closer the darkness drew as the torches were one by one snuffed out.
She fled that too, tearing away and running full pelt in the other direction, desperately hoping that she could somehow escape. Her bare feet stung on the freezing floor as she ran, and her hands left bloodied prints and she careered round every corner uncontrollably.
Then, suddenly, as she rounded perhaps the fifth corner, she collided full pelt with a man who had been stood just out of view. The wind was knocked from her and Vivian sprawled to the floor with a cry, grazing her knees and elbows on the hard, unforgiving stone.
Catching her breath and looking up, she immediately wished she hadn’t.
It was the Grey, unchanged entirely from when she had killed him all those years ago.
For a time they simply held each other’s gaze, as Vivian rose slowly to her feet. They were locked together, neither of them able to move, both knowing that what was about to happen, that what had already happened was about to be repeated.
From seemingly nowhere, Vivian had her blade in her hand once again, and she raised it slowly and purposefully, knowing exactly what she was going to do.
The Grey seemed not to care, as if he’d accepted his fate already, and that no matter how many times Vivian killed him, it would make no difference. He would still be able to haunt her until the end of her days, and she could never rob him of that power over her.
She screamed then, wildly and savagely, lunging forward with all the speed and strength she could muster, driving the blade forwards and straight towards his heart.
Vivian awoke with a heavy jolt and let loose the same animalistic shriek that she had done in her nightmare. Her heart raced and pounded like a heavy drum against her ribs, and, as always, her bed sheets were soaked in sweat.
She looked down at her hands, no longer covered in blood, nor holding the blade she had so sought after in her dream, and they felt decidedly empty.
She may have awoken, but she certainly was not satisfied.
Her jolt had robbed her of her kill, snapping her back to consciousness, and having been deprived of it when she had been so desperately close, only made her want it all the more.
She growled a deep, threatening and animalistic sound in the back of her throat, though she had no idea why, and in the cold darkness of the early morning, the great longing and the unquenchable lust for blood, for stone cold murder, overwhelmed the still young Vivian Featherstone, taunting and tormenting her in its entirety.
After another week, Vivian’s trial seemed to be going well, and the House that she had set up was working most efficiently. Though it had taken a little time, she was now finding that fewer and fewer issues were filtering through to her, and they were only ever the most serious or complicated problems.
She had spent quite some time explaining to her volunteers exactly how she had wanted things to be dealt with, and that if the system proved to be successful, she would reward them with full time, paid employment, a concept so far unheard of for the running of Virtus.
She had thought it a nice incentive, and entrusted Archer with the maintenance of the House’s pay, and his own, now that his other duties had been greatly reduced.
He seemed, thankfully, to be much more relaxed about the whole situation, and even relatively satisfied at its success, though he couldn’t help but slip in comments now and then that it should have been set up months ago.
Regardless though, the volume of his responsibilities had most definitely been eased, and so he was much more content in his day-to-day work, now able to give more time to those issues that most required his attention.
Considering all that, and that she had promised to go to Jared’s aid in the south, Vivian decided to put her new system to the test.
After telling Archer that she was going to leave for the southern farms, and being pleasantly surprised that he barely even batted an eyelid, Vivian set out with renewed vigour, knowing that, with any luck, she wouldn’t come back to a mountain of issues.
But, as she had explained to them, they needed to learn to cope without her, for the time would one day come of course when she wouldn’t be there for them to fall back on.
Why she had been so specific when she had told them that, she didn’t really know. The words just seemed to flow off her tongue automatically, and her new collection of advisors had seemed to simply take them as gospel.
And so, just like that, it was settled.
Passing her responsibility over to them, Vivian left her house in the centre of the city and, certainly not for the first time, headed south. Though this time she moved with clear purpose and definite intent.
8
As ever, travelling through Virtus brought with it the usual issues, but, somewhat gladly, Vivian redirected those to her
newly appointed House, ensuring her people that she was on an errand of great importance, and that their queries would still be dealt with in the same way.
Of course some people grumbled that she was not going to help them personally, and immediately, but then they would simply have to get used to that. She had always known this day would eventually come, one way or another.
In fact, it felt good to pass on some of her responsibility, for she had not had a break from it even once since she had returned here, save her occasional side trip out to Featherstone Keep.
The journey south wasn’t really a long one, even though the farm she sought was on the furthest southern reaches of town. She had set out late however, and it had already been past noon when she’d left, meaning she would have to stay one night in a hostel or an inn of some sort, before reaching Jared’s farm the next day.
To be perfectly honest though, Vivian enjoyed such trips, for it gave her a much better chance to see exactly how her people were really faring.
“Vivian!” The owner greeted her as she approached the inn an hour or two later. She had stayed there once before and, naturally, he remembered her - few ever forgot her.
“Good evening Nicholas.” She replied, smiling warmly and taking his hand.
“Here for the night again?” He asked, as always jumping straight to business. Perhaps that was the reason she liked him so.
“Please.” She responded, nodding her head.
“Of course!” He beamed. “But of course. No charge.” He added with a wink. “Not for our saviour!”
“You’re too kind.” Vivian thanked him, a little dryly admittedly, but he seemed not to notice.
“If you need anything just ask.” He assured her, handing Vivian the keys to her room for the night.
“Thank you.” She repeated, taking the key from his outstretched hand and smiling gratefully. “I will.”
Barely minutes later Vivian climbed the single flight of stairs, passed by the flaking paintwork along the narrow corridors, and reached her assigned room. The door eventually opened after she had worked the key in the latch for a few minutes, and she closed it gently behind her as she entered.
There was a small single bed in the middle of the room, a creaky looking chest of drawers, a full length mirror on the one free wall, surrounded by peeling paint, and a moderately dirty washroom.
If she was perfectly honest, the room was in little better condition than the rest of the inn, but then, it didn’t really matter, she was only there to sleep.
However, though it was her sole purpose of being there, sleep did not come easily to Vivian that night, and when it did, it came in fitful and restless bursts.
Her dreams, when and where she was able to catch them, were plagued again by terrible nightmares. It was nothing new, and she had come to live with them over the years, but recently they seemed to have been getting more and more out of hand.
She found herself running from something, fleeing blindly through trees and forests and streets and alleys, being chased and pursued by a great shadow that loomed over her immensely. And the shadow of whatever monster it was shrieked and screeched in great echoing cries that resonated all around her.
Mercifully, unlike some dreams of the past, this one did not really last all that long, and within minutes of running, Vivian awoke with another jolt, gasping for breath, desperately pulling oxygen into her burning lungs. Her body shook and she stood stooped over with her hands on her knees, her legs throbbing and heavy.
Why did her legs hurt so much?
Looking up and glancing around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Vivian found herself stood in a narrow alleyway, the sky dark far above her, and silence all around.
She had actually been running, she realised, both in her dream, and in reality. How in the world she’d managed to do that, she had no idea, but now that her breath was returning to her, Vivian immediately began to think about getting back to the inn, trying not to panic.
Clearly her nightmares were getting worse, but at that moment it didn’t matter to her how she’d got there, now she just needed to get back. She was dressed in nothing but her underclothes, obviously not having stopped to think about getting dressed in her sleep, and she was, unsurprisingly, freezing.
But then, before she could turn to retrace her steps the way she’d come, a great dread and emptiness washed over her, and her hand reached automatically for the blade at her waist. Though, of course, it was not there. She never carried one in fact, yet her fingers always seemed to yearn for it. The longing desire for bloodlust filled her once more, and she gritted her teeth resolutely.
She would just have to wait for it to pass: ride it out.
But, on this occasion, that simply wasn’t to be.
Strong hands grabbed her from behind then, the man’s arms wrapping around her comparatively small body easily, encompassing her in the darkness. Vivian tried to scream for help, opening her mouth and drawing a deep breath to shriek, but his arm clamped immovably about her neck, crushing her windpipe, and he forced his hand roughly over her mouth, making it impossible for her to call for aid.
He pulled out a blade then and pressed it harshly to her cheek, its face cold and threatening against hers.
Crime was low in Virtus, Vivian had made sure of that. But, as is the nature of the sorrowful human condition, regardless of the location, such a thing is ever-present.
“You’re very pretty.” The man’s disgusting voice whispered in her ear, his words dripping with an indescribable hunger, but then, Vivian too had a lust and a hunger all of her own.
She tried to struggle and worm away from his grasp, but she failed with each attempt, and with every effort she made, the man grew in confidence, knowing he had her.
“Now…” He whispered slowly and intently. “You’re not going to scream, because if you do, I’m going to cut your face into chunks…”
His threat might have been an empty one, but Vivian somehow doubted it, as he pressed the blade harder against her face, drawing some blood as he did so. She felt the warm liquid streak down her cheek and drip onto her exposed front.
Either way, whether he was bluffing or not, she did as he instructed, and stayed perfectly quiet and still.
He threw her to the ground then, manhandling her without a care. But, painful as it was, Vivian made not a peep.
Within an instant he was on her, blade no longer in hand, for by now he felt totally in control, and he loved it. Instead, his hands grabbed and raked hungrily at Vivian’s body and underclothes, desperately trying to rip them from her exposed skin to get to her, driven by his own desire for dominance.
It wasn’t long before he succeeded, smashing Vivian’s head against the cold stone floor in the process, knocking the sense from her for a moment, allowing him the perfect opportunity to strip her naked. He seized his chance and ripped what remained of her clothes from her body, revealing all that lay beneath.
He took a moment to admire Vivian flawless figure in the darkness, though battered and bruised from the assault he had delivered it may have been.
The slight jingling of his belt then snapped Vivian back to her senses, but before she could react, he was upon her again, pressing his body down of top of hers, pinning her back to the freezing ground with his own weight.
He chuckled a low, throaty and disgusting laugh as he did so. It was the sound of terrible victory, though he hadn’t quite yet claimed his prize.
Unbeknownst to him though, he had unwittingly chosen Vivian Featherstone to prey on with his sick desires, and in the darkness of the alleyway, Vivian had materialised a blade of her own from thin air. Concealing it carefully beneath her hand so that its shine did not alert her attacker to its existence, she held firm, and waited for her own chance to strike.
She could quite easily have stopped him a number of different ways, and in fact much earlier. She had never needed to let it go this far, for now she was totally exposed and vulnerable, and he pressed heavily down on
top of her, pushing himself as close to her as he could.
But this felt more real, and Vivian’s lust for bloody revenge was far too great to let this opportunity pass by unseized.
Quite simply, nothing else would have sufficed.
He grabbed her thighs roughly and forced her across the stones painfully, scratching and scraping her back, drawing yet more blood. This was it. He was about to claim his prize. But it was far too late however, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.
By the time he finally realised who she was, and what she was about to do, he was powerless to stop it.
Catching a flash of Vivian’s shining blue eyes in the darkness, just before he descended upon her, fear caught in the predator’s throat.
He opened his mouth to speak, to cry, to shout, to do anything, but instead of words coming tumbling out, instead came great flurries and torrents of blood, as Vivian’s concealed blade slashed viciously across his unprotected neck.
Great floods of blood poured from his gaping throat then, covering Vivian completely, showering her in his torturous death, and she revelled in it. His body began to convulse and jerk terribly, and she jumped up and launched herself at him, stabbing and slashing wildly with barely any direction at all, screaming like an absolute lunatic as she did so, completely lost to herself and to her awful desires.
Barely a minute later, those sixty seconds having flashed by in a heartbeat, Vivian stood over the man, no longer predator, but instead prey, her victory complete, and adrenaline coursed through her veins like wildfire.
Her breathing was heavy and she felt sticky, like she had done in her dream, though now her whole naked body was saturated in blood, and her devolution had taken a second, enormous step.
Vivian revelled in the glory of her success for a while, remaining standing naked and streaked in blood over the now lifeless body of her attacker.
Waist deep in that magnificent, vengeful feeling - nothing could have been better.
