The Chapter One:
Calyptra eustriga (the Vampire Moth)
Disclaimer: I don't own Godchild, nor dor I own any of the characters (although I'd love to own Lord Cain and Riff...) I'm putting in a few OCs of mine, so be warned, if you don't like that...
Lord Cain Hargreaves sighed, desperately bored.
He was stretched across his large, padded couch, bored out of his skull. The party season was long over, and he didn't even have any macabre little mysteries to entertain him. The book he'd been reading -which, at first, had looked quite informative, if not interesting- had turned out to be almost tearfully dull. And he couldn't even go outside for a stroll, for it was raining.
There was a knock on the chamber door. Something that could end his boredom? Hopefully.
"Come in," he yawned, in a monotone voice, not bothering to look up as the door opened.
It was Riff.
"A letter has come for you, sir," he said.
"At this time of night?" Lord Cain was puzzled. "Who from?" He sat bolt upright.
Riff walked over to him, presenting a silver platter to him, on which was a single envelope.
"There's no name on it, other than your, Milord," said Riff, straightening up, once his master had taken -or, rather, snatched- the letter off the platter.
Lord Cain turned the envelope over in his hands, examining it. It was actually a stiff, card-like, cream-coloured sheet of paper, sealed with a rather old-fashioned wax seal.
"This is all so very curious," he murmured.
"Milord?"
"There's no stamp, and it was delivered on a weekend, and very late on a rainy night, no less," he glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, to confirm the time. It was almost midnight.
He knew he really should go to bed, but he'd been having trouble sleeping, recently...
"It obviously wasn't delivered through the postal service, and someone also obviously wanted to make sure I received this; but, why...?" he trailed off, his gaze travelling back down to the wax seal, from being fixed on his valet's face.
The symbol that had been stamped into the wax when it had been still soft looked vaguely familiar, as though he'd seen it in a dream, or more likely, as a small child, and then he had then pushed it into his subconscious until it had resurfaced, just then... No... That didn't seem all that likely, either, for he had had a very isolated childhood. Then, if that was still the case, that he had seen this symbol as a child, then it may, perhaps, have something to do with his father...
Lord Cain shuddered in horror at the very thought.
No, he decided, I must have seen it somewhere else. Perhaps on a sign, outside a shop... Yes, that seems likely... He hoped...
Wherever he had seen it before didn't particularly matter to him at that moment, although it probably should have, the fact that he had seen it before was the thing that mattered to him.
The symbol that he'd been staring about, had been musing about, that had been pressed into the wax, was a butterfly with a torn wing, with Nordic runes encircling it. Somehow, it seemed reminiscent of magic, of the occult. In his opinion, anyway.
"Riff, could you pass me my letter opener, please?"
Riff passed him a short, silver knife, with a tapering blade, from a little dresser in the corner, near the door, without a word.
Lord Cain used the blade of the letter opener to peel off the seal, without cracking it: He had a feeling that this symbol, within the wax, was significant, somehow, and he fully intended on keeping a copy of it, and this was simpler than sketching it.
The letter was an invitation, written in a strange, spidery, jagged hand. It read:
Dear Lord Cain Hargreaves, you have been invited to a masquerade ball, at the Bloody Butterfly Theatre. Don't be late.
P.S- Bring a guest.
There was no signature, no return address, and no other information.
Lord Cain was intrigued.
He stood up, "Come, Riff, we must get ready for the ball."
"Ball?" asked Riff.
Lord Cain handed him the invitation.
"You want me to come, sir? Wouldn't Mary Weather want to go?"
"It's far too late at night for her to be up and about, and you are my valet, after all," Lord Cain replied, nonchalant.
This may turn out to be an interesting night, after all, he thought, as he and Riff left the room.
