Chapter 2: B for Blood

I twitched. Inside my mind I was rather incredulous. Heartbroken? What kind of moron would name his followers the Heartbroken? Also, knights? What was this, England or something? I knew for a fact that there are no knights in America. Except of course the Knights of Columbus.

Or at least this would matter if I knew where I was. Technically, far all I know I very may well be in England. My face twitched as I unconsciously attempted to adopt the mannerisms that I had possessed before I gained this body.

However, do to my abysmal lack of control over my vessel I am positive that my face just spasmed uncontrollably. My escort frowned and stepped forward, half raising his hand, evidently seeking permission from 'Father' to speak.

He was gestured forward and made to speak, almost whisper, in father's ear. Despite his precautions I heard him clearly, "Father, she is now a bit mentally… challenged."

Father frowned, a gesture that was rather quite grotesque and very disturbing to see. He then replied, in a normal voice, "Elaborate."

"She appears to have suffered extreme neurological damage, like as if she received a blender to her brain. Frankly, it's rather a minor miracle that she even functions. She should be a brain dead lump of flesh."

"This is," Father paused after those words for a second, almost searching for the right word, before continuing, "Most disappointing."

He turns slightly in his throne, even as my escort/brother gulped soundlessly and retreated. I noticed with some worry that he was pale and almost trembling. I regarded him for a second out of the corner of my eye before returning my attention to father, who was staring quite intently at a familiar looking man in the corner of the room.

He had an enormous lesion of scar tissue carved straight up his torso, I could see the damage from the way his skin tight shirt clung to his body, and extensive scarring over his face.

"Nicholas," father crooned in a very disturbing fashion, it did not suit him all, "You damaged your sister… I warned you not to go over board…"

Father trailed off at the end, waiting for the man to defend himself. I felt a slight surge in adrenaline, heavily muted, as I stared at him. I recognized him, he was the person who I bisected upon my arrival. He was the person that was engaged in extensive bodily harm to my vessel. A tinge of black appeared on my fingertips as the Siberian's fingertips protruded slightly, ready for combat.

Nicholas grimaced, he once had been attractive, I suppose, before I scarred him. He was dressed differently than the rest of the Heartbroken. Instead of the expensive opulent suits he was dressed in what looked like exercise clothes. It was not quite speedo but it was close. I wondered briefly why he wasn't dead but realized after another moment that my escort had faded the bruise around my face. It might have been possible that he would heal, this Nicholas.

I resisted the urge to growl, which was a strange urge in itself, as Nicholas opened his mouth and unmarred lips to speak.

"I didn't," Nicholas snarled rabidly, eyes suddenly lighting up with anger, "If I went overboard she'd be a lot worse off!"

Then he turned and leered at me. I blinked at him, silently daring him to approach. Father however was very displeased. For an instant I felt a pressure, like an insurmountable obstacle, a sense of malice that permeated everything. All in the room quailed, recoiling visibly.

Nicholas dropped like a stone, I was the only one that seemed relatively unaffected. I felt it as a part of the vessel's brain twisted, actually contorting inside my skull, but I was unaffected. My muscles were relaxed and my grip on the vessel remained loose.

"I am Heartbreaker!" Father roared in fury, "I will not have an attitude like that in my hallowed halls!"

Heartbreaker descended like a demon from his throne, every piece of his malformed face combining to make him seem more malevolent. Something sinister glittered in his eyes, something not entirely human, it was a perverse glee, a delight in utter domination.

Father who was also Heartbreaker strode towards the corner of the room where Nicholas quivered on the floor a gibbering wreck. He reached down and grabbed the back of Nicholas' head and just stared for a moment.

"Perhaps, I've been a little too lenient?" Heartbreaker questioned softly. Suddenly my dismissal of Heartbreaker seemed heavily misplaced. Yes, he looked frail and showed ineptitude initially, merely seeming to badly play the part of an evil man pretending to be pleasant but he was something more.

Heartbreaker slammed Nicholas' head into the ground before straighten enough to fetch a stiletto knife from his jacket.

"Please," Heartbreaker gestured to all others dismissively, "Provide us with a little privacy."

The room emptied in a heartbeat. My escort dragged me along. I did not resist, absently and detached I wondered what was going to happen to Nicholas. In the room directly outside, none of the Heartbroken spoke. Each aligned themselves similarly to how they were arranged inside the room. I took a moment to study each.

Every one of the young adults had similar facial features, high cheekbones, bright blue eyes and curling hair. The hair color itself varied from person to person. Most of the girls, about four, were blond, two were brunettes, and one was a redhead. The males were primarily brown haired, about five, and the minority, about three had other colors, both one blond and two black.

I wondered whether Heartbreaker was actually the father of these beautiful children but then decided that perhaps they were just a very close family? Maybe Heartbreaker was called father in a different way then according to the biological? Possibly there were many different groups of Heartbroken scattered throughout the area, each answering to a Heartbreaker?

It was certainly possible that they were part of some sort of superhuman military force. Of course none of them appeared particularly disciplined to my eyes. About half slouched slightly and the others locked their knees. I wasn't completely positive but I held a strong belief that soldiers, and members of any military, would not fall into such bad posture. Even without the presence of a superior officer.

A moment later Heartbreaker opened the door and exited the room. His suit was unmarred with blood and was not even ruffled by whatever he had done to Nicholas. He regarded the Heartbroken for a moment silently and they snapped into rough lines. Eight moved to one side and seven to the other.

After a moment of just standing there being startled I realized that I was the only one that was not aligned evenly. I quickly and awkwardly shuffled over to the side with seven. Heartbreaker regarded me for a second before allowing a slight nod to break his composure.

Suddenly he clapped, a macabre expression of mirth appearing on his face, "Now, Cécile, let's see your powers."

I felt a faint stirring of caution in the back of my mind. Not the vessels but my actually presence but I did not permit it to fester.

"To the demonstration," Heartbreaker gestured and most of the group turned and followed after Heartbreaker. As he passed me he gestured for me to follow him. However, as I turned away I noticed two of the Heartbroken detach and enter the original meeting room. Both had expressions of loss on their faces.

I pushed this thought down, secluding it in my mind. I knew immediately that I would not wish to reveal everything to this Heartbreaker. I had a suspicion that each member had powers and that each member was different. My escort had healing powers, Heartbreaker himself seemed to posses an emotional tweaking power. Following this line of thought I considered what I had already revealed.

First off, I had already revealed the ability to cut using something that was not my normal hand. I was unaware if Nicholas revealed the arm manifested by my power but I deemed it wise to imply that my power only would work on things in close proximity to me. It would probably be best to both conceal the Siberian's body, arms and other bodily attributes. I glanced down at my fingers, letting just the barest hints of the Siberians finger to protrude, enough to turn the edges of my fingers black.

That would have to do. Hopefully they would not suspect even an iota of what I could really do. One thing that was of critical importance was possessing a hidden ace up my sleeve. Hopefully, they remained unaware that I was partly immune to Heartbreaker's emotion manipulation.

We stopped a few halls later in front of an ornate think wooden door. With a dramatic flourish one of the Heartbroken opened the door, it glided open noiselessly along oiled hinges. Almost like one unit the Heartbroken, Heartbreaker, and I strode into an opulent, dimly lit ballroom. It looked like something one would find in the height of the Victorian Age. Marble floor, gilded golden pillars, a small alcove off to the side for an orchestra, with genuine silk curtains, and enormous unlit crystal chandeliers.

Heartbreaker turned to me and spoke, the Heartbroken arrayed behind him like the wings of a great bird of prey. His voice was soothing, almost rich and cultured sounding, but the words were like a stab in the back with an ice cold blade of naked steel.

I followed his eyesight to a man with greying hair, who looked quite brutalized and completely miserable, despite the horror in his eyes he did not even twitch.

The words echoed over and over again throughout the room, and they echoed in my thoughts, Heartbreaker's words were, "Kill that man."

Would I? Should I? It was never so clear that I rested on the crossroads of a moral decision. I have never killed before, I could kill the man and bide the time until escaping. This plan had the greatest possibility of success. Or, I could take the morally right path and attempt escape right at this very moment, I did not know where I was, I did not know who these people were, I did not know their powers. This second, morally right, plan had almost astronomically low chance of success.

With a mental sigh, I made my choice.