Author's Note(s): I know, I know, it's been a year and some odd months since I've posted anything. Yeah, yeah, I've been counting down. BUT I have an excuse, which will not be explained here. ; Anyway, before my last comp crashed (hint hint) and right after working on Fateful Night, I did start this first chapter (and the sequel to FN), as well as finished it. Just recently I've been slaving away on the second one. x.x; I am a slow writer, so do forgive me. Um…this is going to be a collection of five or more Count Cain cases/fics. Just like my other fic, it takes place after a certain part of Count Cain. OOC is just oozing everywhere, but nevertheless, please enjoy. Criticism, flames and such are indeed welcomed. And if you feel the need to want to help me out by correcting my grammar/spelling/whatever, contact me, m'kay? Thank you in advance!
Disclaimer: Count Cain/Earl Cain/Hakushaku/God Child does not belong to me but to Yuki Kaori-sama.
Chapter One: Under a Blind Moon
"You little demons! Get back here!"
Child-like laughter filtered throughout the forest. It was an innocent laugh, almost pure, yet maniacally devious all in one. Even as they rushed away from the broken down shack of a house, they continued to simper wildly.
After running until their hearts throbbed in their ears, they stopped near a desolate clearing. Four pairs of eyes looked at one another expectantly.
"Well?" One of the girls asked impatiently. Her jet-black hair spilled upon her tiny shoulders greedily, tainting her pristine dress. Her milky white skin, a striking resemblance of the moon, made her seem like an annoyed spirit.
"Well, I say our good friend, Sebastien, should be it for this evening." A blonde-haired boy suggested cockily, a smirk dazzling his full pink lips. He was the eldest of the four by two years. He was also, the leader of their childish antics.
The smaller, more petite boy, known as Sebastien, stared blankly at the older boy; not quite grasping what was said. "But Tristan, I'm always it! Why not Domenique?"
Domenique glared, folding her arms across her chest. Her natural red hair bobbed about with the slight gesture. "Because, stupid, you're the youngest."
Sebastien looked desperate. "You're only older than me by two days!"
Tristan grumbled in frustration. "Does it matter? Sebastien, you're it, so quit being a baby about it."
The young boy heaved a heavy, defeated sigh. It was the same argument, same decision, and same conclusion every Thursday night. He hated his so-called friends more than anything when they ganged up on him. It was always the, "well, you're the youngest" excuse. He couldn't believe how much they grated his nerves.
Yet, they were the only ones that accepted him.
Tristan whipped out a pale blue handkerchief from his back pocket. The older boy never used the thick piece of fabric, except when they played this game. Sebastien couldn't help but joke mentally at this. Tristan may as well give the damn thing to him.
"All right Seb, you know the drill," he eyed the chocolate haired boy menacingly. Sebastien couldn't help but flinch at such an evil look, but he obediently made his way over to the taller boy.
Having done this plenty of times before, Tristan immediately tied the handkerchief over his eyes nonchalantly. Then he commenced the ritual of assisting Sebastien around and around in a circle, chanting:
"Mother earth, mother moon
Who will come to save me soon?"
Around and around, I shall go
Where I shall stop, nobody will know"
He could feel the lessening warmth from Tristan's hands, obviously meaning that the blonde had released him. However, his body yearned for some stability. His head and limbs felt awfully heavy at that as well.
The rustling and chomping of leaves was all Sebastien could hear, along with the sound of giggling. The tenacious sound rang throughout his ears, causing him to wince in pain. No matter how many times he was it, he was well assured that he would never be accustomed to the spinning and the shrill laughter.
He took one step forward. The laughter seemed to reverberate against the tree trunks, which made it all the more annoying.
Another step forward, only this time, he began to reach out.
He could hear them all, crunching amongst the golden colored leaves as if they were balls of paper. Naturally, he followed his ears, hoping that they would lead him to at least one of villains of this game.
Unfortunately, he felt his feet betray him, as he found himself stumbling and landing unceremoniously upon the noisy sea of leaves. The stems and the leaves themselves pricked at his clothed flesh. He could practically feel his naked knees throb at the tenuous yet violent pain. Worse than that, he knew that his brother would relinquish a beating over his new pants and blouse being so filthy.
He sighed. So what else was new?
Sitting up, his ears perked at the ghoulish howl, undoubtedly, from a wolf. They were quite common in this area, making him wonder what on earth possessed Tristan to want to come out here so badly.
Speaking of which, it was too quiet out here.
A little too quiet.
"Where are those guys anyway? " Sebastien swallowed hard, reaching up to tug the handkerchief off. It didn't hurt to peak a little, especially since it became so soundless all of the sudden.
Pulling the handicap off completely, he blinked his eyes, readjusting to the moonlight that flowed slightly throughout the forest. The darkness was somewhat thick, so he couldn't see nor hear a single soul out there.
"Maybe they ran back to the village?" He asked himself nervously, continuing to survey the unyielding darkness wearily. "They wouldn't do that…leave me all alone out here…would they?"
He released a shaky sigh, laughing to himself. He couldn't believe this. If they really wanted to be rid of his presence, all they had to do was ask, not abandon him in a dark, gloomy forest.
His hazel ocures darted upward, allowing the fullness of the moon to purge his anger and regret. He should've known that it would have come to this. He was such an easy target, after all.
The wolf's howling seemed to grow louder.
Sebastien gulped. Hideous thoughts began to trudge through his mind, plaguing it with inevitable images. Did wolves eat children? Were they liable to tear a child to shreds? He did not know.
And he most certainly did not want to find out.
He scrambled to his full height, dashing his way towards the village. If he could just reach Mr. Gavin's town house, everything would be all right. He wouldn't have to find out about the wolf along with its rumors or anything preposterous like that. He would be safe.
"Why on earth did they leave me!" Sebastien wanted to scream out. He clutched his fist tighter, allowing his nails to dig into his palms. They were probably half way to their respective dwellings, chortling over their own tricks.
His feet came to a halt. The clearing, unfortunately, had ended, leaving him with three options before him. Just his luck of course.
"Maybe, if I kept running straight," he thought to himself, scanning the darkened area, cluttered with trees.
He blinked. The trees' shadows looked awfully irregular. They were usually slim since it was mid-fall and the leaves had taken a leave of absence. But now, the trees' dark counterparts were bulky. Almost unusually so.
Sebastien gazed up at the trees, eyes widening fearfully at the scene bathed in milky white light.
He released an ear splitting scream.
"Riff, I do believe that Uncle Neil is a complete nuisance."
Rifuel Raffit gazed down at his young master, amused by such a declaration.
"And why do you say that, Master Cain?"
Cain C. Hargreaves adverted his attention from the seemingly ongoing sidewalk, to his devoted valet. Glossy sea green irises, adorned uniquely by sharp golden shards peered at Riff mischievously, a smirk slowly forming upon his full pink lips. " The girls he so randomly handpicks for me. You'd think he were choosing them to satisfy his interests, not mine."
"I take it that Miss Ramone wasn't your type?" Riff offered a friendly smile. Cain had always been turned off by the fact that his only loving relative took it upon himself to find him a wife. The girls were pretty; he had to give him that, but not stunningly so. But the one thing that tickled him to no end, was the absurdity each girl possessed about her reputations. It was the same thing, just reworded by every girl he had come across. Or was forced to come across, rather.
"She was too noisy," he surmised, returning his gaze to the sidewalk once more. The paved walk way was gradually diminishing into sand. A sweet transition from man made ground, to nature's own trail. "That and she had a problem with my hair."
Riff give Cain's hair a brief yet thorough once over, noticing how long the deep brown mop was getting. It didn't surprise him however. The young man's hair grew at such a marveling rate and all.
"You'll find a proper suitor some day soon, Master."
"You mean, Uncle Neil will find my proper suitor soon," Cain countered, a sly grin curling upon his lips.
Riff just chuckled softly.
As the two continued to make their way up the dirt path, voices could be heard, floating and fluttering about up ahead. The closer they approached, the more voices that seemed to litter throughout the fields, reminding Cain of the birds that usually cawed and screeched in this area. Sobbing could be heard, almost as if someone were mourning. The choking of painful cries as well as voices brimming with tears also sharpened Cain's curiosity.
The sounds of grieving. A broken symphony that human ears just could not stand to hear.
They saw a group of villagers huddled about. Some, or mostly the women, were burying their faces in their husband's overcoats, or sobbing on one another. The men's pale white faces, betwixt with both sadness and horror, stood there, examining the ground silently.
Cain advanced toward the grieving crowd, not even looking back to see if Riff followed him.
"How could this happen!" A middle-aged woman screamed, tears streaming down her pain stricken face. Her entire body, wracking in sorrow, seemed to shiver and convulse, making her arms wrap around her limber frame tightly. Two village women, dresses smudged with dust, cautiously pulled her aside; the process completed ever so gently.
The two men watched as a figure dismembered himself from the crowd. His posture was slack, dark blonde hair mussed from the dusty winds, and his hands were shoved carelessly down his pockets, causing the seat area of his pants to wallow up in creases and crevices.
He looked up, eyes protected by a thin pair of glasses. A wistful smile edged upon his lips hesitantly.
"Ah, Master Cain, what a pleasure it is to see you upon this misfortunate morning."
Cain gave the man an even look before nodding his head in response. Calm ivy green irises peered at him, almost uneasily, scanning his face and body for any sign of acknowledgement of some kind.
"I take it that you don't know what took place last night, Sir Cain?" His voice teetered on the edge of tears, although, he was steadily attempting to remain placid.
Cain felt his curiosity nip at this throat lightly. "I'm afraid not, Sir…"
"Wellington," The blonde haired man replied embarrassingly, "Alexander Wellington."
"Ah, Sir Wellington, I'm afraid I have no clue what has happened, seeing that I have no origins here."
Alexander's cheeks flushed horrendously from the embarrassment. If he could have, he would've hidden in his coat from the count.
"My apologies. I thought you had family here. At least a possible marriage."
Cain cocked an elegant eyebrow, grinding the end of his cane in the moist earth. His eyes traced over the young man for a long minute, mentally calculating what stood before him. He was quite young, but naturally older than himself. He wasn't exactly what he would call built, but he wasn't sickly thin either. His mustard coated three-piece suit seemed a tad too sophisticated compared to the dingy garments the villagers wore.
The dirty blond haired man blinked auspiciously at the count, but then quickly realized his fault, clamping his hand over his mouth. "I am so sorry! Your uncle told me that you had a fiancée! Forgive me!"
Cain blinked. "Oh, he did, did he? Well damn it all Uncle Neil."
"It's quite alright Mr. Wellington," he assured absently. He quickly lifted his gaze from the pale orange sand to the man's weary green eyes. An offer of reassurance to the shaky man.
"I guess I shouldn't have said that either. Christ, my apologies again."
He sighed, becoming a bit irritated with the man. "I said that it's okay Mr. Wellington, so please." His eyes wandered over to the group of villagers, the lump of curiosity returning once more. "What exactly happened last night?"
Alexander was just about to admonish another apology to the younger man when he noticed the mask of gravity on Cain's face.
He cleared his throat, the grief already striking him once more. "There was an accident. Or more like, someone left their traps lying about, and these poor"
Alexander looked down, followed by Cain and the evermore-observing Riff. A mass of curly chocolate brown hair, along with huge, dull sapphire eyes peered up at Alexander, completely devoid of his surroundings or of the company the older man had obtained. His face, a ghostly pigment, contrasted heavily with the dark red splotches that surrounded his irises. He was seemingly frail, and looked as if he would shatter from a mere brush of the breeze.
"Brother, I want to go. Can we go now?"
"Now, don't be so rude," Alexander advised gently yet firmly, kneeling down so that he was face to face with the young boy. "Can't you see I'm in an adult conversation at the moment?"
The boy, having realized that there were two figures before him, turned his vision on Riff and Cain. The blandness that had possessed his eyes immediately glistened into interest as he stared at the two men as if they were mythical icons he had once read about in his collection of books.
His eyes steadied themselves upon Cain far longer than intended and Cain's eyes never left the boy's imploring face.
Fearlessly, he pointed to the seventeen year-old, giving him a look of disgust. "He doesn't look like an adult to me."
Cain coughed delicately, slitting his abnormal colored orbs at the youth hotly.
"Hey! Apologize to the Count right now!" Alexander nudged his brother crudely, glaring daggers at the boy for having said such. Granted that Cain did look somewhat young for his age, but he found that silence was golden; especially when it came to situations like someone's age.
The young boy grumbled something inappropriate and obeyed his brother's demands. "I am very sorry. I won't say it again Sir."
Cain nodded and watched Alexander shove the boy off to the side, indicating that he should wait for him instead of crowd around them while he conversed.
"Forgive me," he turned and headed towards the now quaint crowd. Cain and Riff followed him. "My brother Sebastien doesn't take too well to strangers."
"Doesn't seem to take too well to anyone at that," Cain mumbled to himself, looking over Alexander's shoulder. He made his way through the group of villagers swiftly, finding the heart of the circle easily.
"I don't know why they just won't cover the kids up. They're just making it worse on themselves."
Cain looked down, curiosity melting into silent horror.
Three tiny bodies, slightly covered by the dry earth, laid there, bundled in a few blankets. Their necks were massacred with red blotches, along with one deep ring that stood out upon their white skin. Their eyes reflected their terror stricken faces. The boy, who was stationed between the two girls, had his neck turned in a queer angle. Through the ring, there was a section of burnt flesh. It looked terribly cooked, and if inspected closer, one could spot a bit of bone.
This was a sick and twisted sight put on display for the grieving.
Riff, who also looked on in dismay, uttered the words that Cain could barely repeat, even if he tried. "What happened?"
Alexander sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. He tore his eyes away from the gruesome fatality and eyed the valet seriously. "They stepped into hunter traps, or so far we've concluded. No one exactly knows for sure."
Cain continued to stare at the children's battered necks, squinting at the ring in mere dread.
"Marie-Jean Montesique, Domenique Henri, and Tristan Amaury," the names flowed out of Alexander's mouth as if they were air. "My brother's so-called friends."
"How unfortunate," Cain whispered to himself, eyes resting hesitantly on Alexander's exhausted face. The man looked terribly distressed, as if this entire matter had kept him up all night.
Alexander escorted them through the crowd once more, advancing towards the trail Cain and Riff had once traveled upon not too long ago.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your journey Sir Cain and Sir Riff," he produced an apologetic smile, the sorrow never ceasing upon his face.
"Quite alright," Cain sauntered over towards the trail, then added, "To your brother, my regards."
The smile never left Alexander's weary face. "Thank you."
Cain and Riff continued forth to the hotel, a solemn silence between them. It was like the morning after a huge fight. There was nothing to be said or nothing to be heard, because they were both pondering over the same things. There was nothing one could do.
Cain shattered the silence however, voice filled with perplexion. "Riff?"
"Yes, Master Cain?"
He hesitated at first, finding the dirt path an interesting specimen that needed to be dissected. Nevertheless, he quickly rediscovered his nerve and pushed his inquiry.
"Did you see that back there? Those splotches?"
Riff cast a questioning look at his young master, eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Yes."
"And the boy…his neck?"
"Yes, Master."
Cain continued, "Something wasn't right back there. Not right at all."
The valet, having seen such a puzzling yet curious expression on his master's face, said nothing, agreeing silently.
Author's Note(s): Did I mention that I wrote this LAST year? -.-; Yeah. It's not like my writing improved. In fact, thanks to school and stress, it died. :D But yeah, Alexander and all those little kids (they have French names or so says…what is it with me and France?) do belong to me. You all knew that, I'm sure. And if you've figured out what happened to the kids, you can drop me a line. XD;Did I mention that I wrote this LAST year? -.-; Yeah. It's not like my writing improved. In fact, thanks to school and stress, it died. :D But yeah, Alexander and all those little kids (they have French names or so says…what is it with me and France?) belong to me. You all knew that, I'm sure. And if you've figured out happened to the kids, you can drop me a line. XD;