You're Not Here

by ElisiansBane

After Yuuri's death, Wolfram is forced to find a new spouse. He enacts a law that allows him to remain single for the rest of his life. But on the way back from the ritual the law entails, he is attacked by thieves and is saved by Adelbert. NOT WxA!

4. Chapter 4

You're Not Here

Chapter Three

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your comments are duly noted and appreciated. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Warnings: Violence, non-consensual sexuality, language.

Disclaimer: I do not own KKM, but the plot and characterizations are my own creation.

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Chapter Three: New Blood For Old

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Keenan watched his lord move about the front yard as they made preparations for the final stages of the spell Adelbert had cast months ago. The altar was covered in black roses-the rarest blooms of all. How his boss had come to have such a huge amount of the flowers was beyond him. As far as he knew the flowers only grew in the mountains to the North and could not survive in the temperate climate of Shin Makoku.

Keenan turned his gaze to the black sky, appearing as a void against the roaring flame outside the little cottage they had "procured" for the occasion. Keenan didn't know what had become of the owners and in retrospect he didn't think he wanted to. They had "gone' for a "trip" according to Adelbert and the mad glint in his eye kept Keenan from inquiring further.

"Soon," he heard the boss mumble as he placed the finishing touches on the altar. "It will be over tonight and we will be together again, my Julia."

That never failed to send chills down the thin man's spine; Adelbert would constantly talk to 'Julia,' refer to that thing as Julia, even though it was nothing like the demon healer of decades ago. Keenan never knew much about the woman who had taken over the boss' mind. Only that she had been his fiancé and lover and that she had at least two rivals for her affection. Adelbert didn't like to talk about her, it was a point of contention for him and a dark stain on his memory. When it was revealed that the young double black demon king was the reincarnation of Julia, Keenan saw a transformation in Adelbert. He became fascinated and protective of the boy, this vassal of his lover's soul, and strangely enough, his contempt for the aristocracy grew tenfold when the boy was concerned.

And it only worsened when he died. Adelbert was pensive, quietly seething after the funeral and took to locking himself up in inns and public libraries reading thousands of books it seemed on the dark arts. Necromancy.

"Keenan!" Adelbert barked knocking Keenan out of his musings.

"Yes, boss?" he said quickly.

"Help me with this beam."

"Right." Keenan rushed over to help Adelbert lift the heavy wooden beam that was part of the awning.

"What were you thinking over there?" His tone was casual, but Keenan knew to tread carefully when Adelbert inquired his thoughts on anything.

"Nothing." He said dismissively. "Just thinking about tonight."

The smile on Adelbert's face was disturbing in its sheer glee. "Yes, finally I can be reunited with her and we will steal away into the wilderness away from those idiot puppets."

"Ah, yeah."

Adelbert didn't miss the hesitation in Keenan's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, nothing." Keenan said quickly, he knew that what he was thinking could rile up the boss and that would not be good at all.

The boss's eyes narrowed at the man. "Tell me what you're thinking, Keenan." His command was low, smooth and dangerous.

Keenan knew what he wanted to say, there was so much to he wanted to tell the boss. But, his nerves abandoned him. Images, terrible images played across his mind as he remembered the nine other victims, young noblemen of the Ten Aristocrats. They were children really, some of them were very bright and promising, beautiful. Virginal.

It was that attribute that made them targets, that sealed their horrid fates, as they were chosen with a cold systematic air to be the sacrifices for Adelbert's dogged ambition.

Keenan had watched his commander, a man he had sworn loyalty to, something Keenan did very rarely, as the large man had scoured through every book and forbidden texts, consulting the witches and necromancers that lurked in the very darkest depths of Shin Makoku's underbelly. He remembered holding stacks of books and scrolls as Adelbert read for hours, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, teaching himself the dark arts for this one purpose.

"It's…just…" Keenan began. How should he put it? "Just…" Damn it. "This doesn't feel right. It isn't right! We should never have done this. The witch said…"

"I don't care what the old bitch said." Adelbert hissed. "We've been over this. We've come too far and sacrificed too much to give up know. I won't let you give up on me, Keenan."

"But, they were so young, Adelbert." Keenan said, he rarely used his boss' actual name, only when the matter left him panicked. "And this time, it's the king's fiancé. And he's the king right now! Don't you know what will happen when they find out he's missing?"

Adelbert's tone sent chills down Keenan's spine. "That's why we used the old man's son as a decoy body. By the time the wolves are done with him there'll be no way to tell if it is Bielefeld or if it isn't."

Keenan tried not to outwardly grimace. Yes, the old man's son, a blonde haired boy with light green eyes and very similar in build and face to the Bielefeld prince. Adelbert had sympathy enough to poison the boy instead of kill his parents like he did after the child keeled over. The demon had then sauntered into their home, the little house where they stayed now and would be the site of the ending ritual, like it was a consensual trade and not cold murder.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Keenan said vehemently. He gestured towards the makeshift altar. "I'm talking about this! This…..this….insanity! The others were one thing, but this is the new demon king! And-"

"Oh, please, Keenan," Adelbert sneered. "Don't get all righteous on me. It's not like this is any different from the others. It's what they deserve, they sent thousands of innocents to their deaths over and over again and no one batted an eye. Why should we care when we take their own sons for our own gain when they did the same?"

"But, Adelbert…"

"Keenan, if you're so against it why have you aided me? Why have you even stuck around at all?"

Keenan looked away, blushing. "That's…because….I.." He stuttered. It wasn't vengeance or even cold blood that somehow manipulated Keenan into helping Adelbert against his better judgment. Not at all, it was the workings of his own heart, a longing for Adelbert's affection that clouded his judgment and made him help with such a terrible endeavor.

Adelbert smiled bitterly, already aware of Kennan's weaknesses. "You poor ugly thing. Unrequited, but loved just the same," He cooed.

Keenan looked down sadly at his own hands. He remembered luring and taking the young nobility into the woods and delivering them to his boss like sheep to a butcher and the screams, always the screams. He had done it on order from his captain, his lord…his love.

Ugly, unrequited, Adelbert was right. Keenan had devoted himself to his captain out of the respect he had for him in their early days, but that respect quickly grew into an emotion that Kennan wished he would never experience, for the sake of his sanity. He had forced his emotions to the very back of his mind, and stepped back as his lord engaged himself to the blind girl, mourned her death, and obsessed over her new, male self. He watched the underlying madness seethe and grow under the stony-faced visage that was Von Grantz, he had watched it crack, and fall to pieces when the king was declared dead. He watched the visage be replaced by a new, piercing mask that held so many secrets, and one very prominent threat to those Adelbert found guilty through his own system of justice.

The mask never left. It hid his love from him, as he traveled, and scoured every village, archive, and castle for the way to his revenge, and his dead love.

"Let's get this finished," Adelbert's voice cut through Keenan's thoughts. "This is our last chance."

"Yes," The other man muttered forlornly, a slave to his love for his lord and cruelly bound to the false hope that he would regain his sanity.

"Hey, guys!" The two men looked up to see Angelica approaching from inside the house. Her red ponytail swayed daintily with her every step. In her arms was a basket of roses for the altar.

Adelbert smiled. "Excellent, where did you find them so close to the end of the season?"

The woman shrugged. "I have ways." She dumped the basket right in front of Keenan, and immediately began to arrange them around the base of the altar.

Keenan didn't why the ceremony called for roses, neither did anyone else. The translation was minimum, with only the most necessary words deciphered. It could have been aesthetic. It could have been significant. It didn't matter to Kennan, he had come to hate the flowers, they reminded him of the lives he had taken, for the graves he dug, for the altars he built for their blood to be sacrificed to some unknown heathen god, who granted wishes to only the basest of individuals.

Yes, roses made him think of blood.

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"Oh my god!" Wolfram shrieked, and he dropped his pipe to the ground with a loud clang as he rushed forward to aid the dangling figure. "What the hell?"

It was a boy, hanging by his neck, a chair lying in its side behind him. Gasping, choking sounds filled the quite room, as clouds of dust drifted unsettled from the activity. The slim body twitched, and shook as oxygen was cut off, and the rope tightened cruelly around a neck.

Mind blank, driven by instinct, Wolfram grasped at shaking shoulders, and felt his way up the neck, feeling the rope, and following it up to a rafter just out of his reach.

"Hold on!" He shouted, and grabbed the fallen chair and leapt onto the seat. The rope was taut from the other's weight, the fibers bit at Wolfram's soft fingers as he jammed them between the tight coils of the knot, and the rotting wood of the rafter.

The other boy made a gurgling noise and his movements began to slow. Wolfram yanked, and pulled at the rope, and finally the cord began to slip. He pulled at it again, and this time, the entire knot collapsed, sliding to the ground as the other boy crashed, sending up a cloud of dirt, and dust.

Wolfram jumped off the chair, and knelt beside him. The boy was heaving, and gasping for precious, life-giving air, fingers gripping at the dirt floor, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, chest heaving. Wolfram held his hands out to help, but stopped to hover helplessly above the panting form.

Wolfram had never dealt with someone who was clearly trying to kill himself. He wasn't sure how to go about comforting him. Wolfram shook his head out of its blankness, and gently pushed the now stilled man onto his back.

The boy obeyed Wolfram's touch, and fell onto his back easily, chest rising gently up and down as he stared at the ceiling above him. It was too dark to make out his features, but Wolfram could tell he was young, maybe not much older than he, but that was dependent on whether he was demon or not. But, in appearance, they seemed the same. A weak beam of moonlight streamed in from a crack in the ceiling, and fell across the fallen man's right eye. It was half open and glazed drifting closed from near unconsciousness. The light glinted off a dark iris that scanned, and twitched from side to side, before resting on the face of his rescuer, or inhibitor, it depended on how the boy saw it.

"A-are you alright?" Wolfram asked, hesitantly reaching to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. No sooner had his fingertips brushed against the cloth of his shirt, the man came to life. A hand smacked away at Wolfram's own, as he sat up with blinding speed, and crawled backwards until he bumped against the opposite wall, panting, and shaking in fear.

Wolfram let his hand hang in the air, as his mind pieced together what had just happened.

Wolfram blinked. "Um…" He tried to say something, but the words died on his tongue, when the other man made a terrible hacking noise, but continued to stare at him through the darkness. He couldn't see his companion's eyes, but he felt them pierce his body.

The boy managed to compose himself, and he sat a little straighter, eyes always trained on Wolfram, apprehensive and accusing.

"I'm sorry," was all Wolfram could think of to say. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The youth stilled, seemingly accepting Wolfram's shaky apology. All sense of fear left his body, and Wolfram could feel it give way to curiosity as the silhouette relaxed, and the hard scrutiny melted away.

"My name is Wolfram," Wolfram said in as friendly a manner as he could. He figured that best approach was to introduce himself, since it was obvious they were both prisoners. He almost started to recite his formal title, but he stopped. He didn't feel that formalities would be useful in this situation, and he didn't need a companion preoccupied with etiquette when escape was the priority.

He politely waited for the other to respond. But, when all he got was silence, he wondered if the noose had done more damage than he thought. The other seemed fine for someone that nearly killed himself - energetic, and alert.

"What's your name?" He prompted again. This time, he barely perceived the motion of a head shaking sadly, the dim outline of a hand reaching up to a throat, and tapping it gently.

Wolfram stared for a minute, not quite understanding, but then it clicked. "You're a mute," He stated flatly. "A mute."

Movement again - a nod. Wolfram groaned, and ran his hands through his matted hair in frustration, he cursed as he upset his injured shoulder. Great, just great. How could they escape, when one of them couldn't talk? Hand signals were out of the question, even if their vision was finally beginning to compensate for the lack of light. Wolfram could now make out the dark grey shapes of various objects in the cellar, and the slightly darker outline of his silent companion. But, it wasn't enough for hand gestures to be effective.

Big, heavy footsteps against the ceiling startled the two men out of their skin. The footstep clamored against creaking floorboards, sending cakes of dust, dirt, and wood to the ground to rain on them. Two pairs of eyes strained as they followed the direction of the footsteps. A door creaked and slammed shut – then silence.

Two identical gasps echoed in the dark, neither of them realized that they had been holding their breath. Wolfram looked back at his companion, to see that he had gone back to cowering in his corner, staring up at the ceiling where the footsteps had been.

"I don't know about you," Wolfram stated. "But, I'm going to find a way the hell out of here."

The darkness didn't let Wolfram see the frantic head-shaking his statement elicited. The blonde determinedly got up from his spot on the floor, dusted himself off, and felt his way along the wall, searching for the door. Ignoring the constant shuffling behind him, he felt his way back into the main room, side-stepping any boxes or objects that got in his way. The darkness added sensitivity to his other senses, and he could smell the preserved meats, and vegetables within the big wooden boxes. The wall guiding him, he made a complete survey of the room.

He estimated it to be about thirty paces by twenty, a typical size of a cellar. The room was old, and unkempt, the boxes, and crates were stacked haphazardly atop each other, if Wolfram wasn't careful as he moved about, he would most certainly knock one of the towers over, thus injuring himself or attracting unwanted attention from his captors. His feet kicked aside various loose items. He bent down to feel for anything that could be used as a tool or a weapon. His fingers only found broken pieces of wood, and random sticks of metal. The only thing of any use was the rusty pipe from earlier, and that was back in the tiny adjacent room.

Dust hanging like moss from the rafters, splintered wooden panels, an old wine rack with only four crusty bottles shoved in the cubbies, Wolfram's fingers painted a picture of the room for his eyes. He continued feeling until he hit the back wall again, he skimmed his fingertips along the wood, taking care to not spear them on a wayward splinter. He paused when he found another door, this one shut fast, and refusing to budge under his touch.

"Damned door," He muttered hotly, as he pushed even harder against the wood. The door creaked, and groaned in response, but still did not move an inch. He found the handle, and shook it violently, quickly losing patience when even that made little difference. Placing both hands on the knob, he yanked, and twisted it with all his might, ramming the door with his uninjured shoulder as hard as he could without upsetting his injuries, which ached in protest at his activity. After the fourth shove and twist, the door gave way with a loud creak, and Wolfram stumbled into yet another tiny adjacent room. It was nearly half the size of the other small room, and packed twice as tight with shelves lined with containers, and general junk. He coughed as the swinging door rained down cakes of dust, and grime as he stepped into the cramped space. His eyes blinked into focus as they registered a wide beam of blue light coming from a tiny window high above him. The moon was at its highest now, providing the only source of substantial light for the entire cellar. Wolfram could make out the shapes of bottles, and jars that lined the shelves, and the edges of the floors. He stepped forward, but stopped when his knee brushed against a smooth edge. It was a metal tub, small enough to fit inside the room, but big enough for a petite adult to bathe in if they so choose.

Wolfram tried to push the door in to give himself more room to move about, but it jammed on something on the floor. He reached out to touch the object with his foot, and found it to be cloth, or really, piles of clothing strewn about the floor.

It was immediately after he registered the ratty clothes on the floor that his nose was assaulted with a rancid metallic smell. Wolfram's hand slapped against his mouth as he held back a gag as the rotting smell wafting up from the pile of clothes and from a large tin bucket shoved in a corner. He leaned over to investigate the contents of the bucket and instantly berated himself for his stupidity. The bucket seemed to be stained with a dark substance that caused the smell with a small pool of the liquid situated at the bottom. When his brain finally overcame the horrid smell, it was able to register the origins of the substance and he could only groan. It was blood. Old, rotten blood. He backed up in horror from the bucket, frantically looking around the room for the source of the blood. His foot kicked at something on the floor and he whined when he saw that under the piles of clothes were bones with pieces of flesh still attached.

He stumbled back against the door frame, legs shaking as he struggled to keep himself up, completely forgetting about his mute companion. Hand clamped over his mouth, he breathed deeply to stave off the waves of nausea that wracked at his gut.

He heard the shuffling of the other man behind him as he entered the room. A sharp intake of breath and a light keen were that alerted Wolfram to the young man's discovery of the macabre scene. But the mute didn't take it nearly as well as the prince. He stumbled back into the main room of the cellar. In his haste, he tripped over some object behind him, and fell to the ground, clutching his chest in shock as he dry heaved.

"Oh-oh god…" Wolfram choked. "Are you alright?"

He rushed over to kneel beside the hacking man, tentatively placing a hand on his back to comfort him. The other man only doubled over, his free hand grasping desperately at the dusty floor as his body violently shook and his breathing became increasingly labored and a soft sound like growling rumbled through his body.

"You're having a panic attack!" Wolfram exclaimed. He felt a sudden wave of sympathy and protectiveness for the quivering figure in front of him. "Come on, let's get you away from there."

Wolfram carefully lifted the man by his shoulders, and dragged him, still heaving and shaking, away from the room.

'What the hell is going on?' Wolfram thought frantically as he propped the limp body against a stack of crates. 'I want to go home!'

"Hey, hey," He whispered soothingly. "Try to calm down. Just breathe. Breathe."

The mute slowly complied with Wolfram's soft commands. The shaking came under control and he shakily ran his hand through stringy hair. Wolfram continued to rub his back, much the same way Yuuri had rubbed his when he was seasick, the act always made him feel better and he was glad to find that it seemed to have a similar effect on the young man.

"There," He smiled. "It's going to be alright."

But Wolfram doubted how much truth there was to what he said. While he managed to remain calm on the outside, the growing fear ate away at his psyche. Where were they? Why was he here? Did his brothers know he was missing? Surely, they would have noticed his absence by now. Wolfram wasn't sure of the time, but he was certain it was either still night or the next day, but it would have been long enough for his disappearance to be noted and a search party sent out.

He suddenly hated himself and his stupidity. In yet another instance of his impetuous nature, Wolfram had gotten himself into a deadly situation. He had no way of contacting his brothers, no way of escape and no way of knowing what Adelbert and his gang had in store for him. He could only imagine it would be similar to the fates of whomever owned the bloody clothes in the little adjacent room.

Was that why the mute had tried to kill himself? He might have known something about what was going to happen to them. Wolfram didn't know what to make of his silent, easily frightened companion. The other man had made little attempt at communication, other than to notify Wolfram of his inability to speak and simply followed him around.

They were trapped. Wolfram couldn't summon his magic for some unknown reason. He knew they were still in the demon territory, so the inability to use his fire was mystifying. He could feel the energy swirling underneath his skin, ready to be summoned by a flip of the hand, but when he tried, it didn't work. It was like his magic was jammed, blocked by some unseen force and unable to come forth, try as he might.

Their only option at this point was the one thing Wolfram had the most difficulty doing - waiting.

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Two hours. They had two hours before the final sacrifice had to be killed. Two hours and Adelbert would finally have his little monster. Two hours and the nightly screams of the sacrifices would forever echo in the depth of Kennan's mind, haunting him, cursing him, until death take him or he drink himself into a stupor.

It was quiet in the living room of the cottage. Far too quiet. The creature should have transformed by now and killed the Bielefeld boy. They should hear screams and pleas for mercy, for help, but there were none. Just the random sound of muffled scratching and shuffling behind the basement door that stood in plain view from where Keenan and Adelbert sat by the hearth, drinking and staring into nothingness while they waited for the telltale sounds of a vicious animal devouring its prey alive.

The two men sat in the exact same position, seated beside each other, both pairs of eyes trained on the little wooden door that led to the creature's abode. Their body language was vastly different however. Adelbert sat in his armchair with an almost childlike glee, ice-blue eyes glinting in the firelight, a terrifying smirk pulled at his chapped lips, his hands were laced together, knuckles white from his anxious grip. The way his gaze shifted constantly between the fire, the door, and the window where the approaching full moon was just beginning to shine through, unnerved Keenan. He could tell his captain was reliving every moment up until this point, reimagining every fantasy he had concocted in their journey from scouring old necromancy books to collecting the sacrifices.

One thing confuse Keenan though. The spell had said to use full-blooded demons who were virgins or "un-penetrated" as the text had so eloquently put it. But, from what he could muster, Bielefeld had been physically intimate with the late demon king. Or that was why the boy had been so flustered when Adelbert teased him before. But it could just be aristocratic prudence talking.

A chilling thought entered Keenan's mind. What if Bielefeld wasn't a virgin? What would happen to the spell then? The one time Adelbert had let Keenan read the mystical text, it had clearly stated that the sacrifices had to be virgins. If Bielefeld wasn't a pure virgin, would that anger the spirits? Would the creature remain a terrible, bloodthirsty heathen or just drop dead?

Keenan really hoped it would just drop dead.

If it did, Adelbert would more than likely continue his kidnappings, with or without him and Angelica, until he got it right and he could be reunited with "Julia."

Keenan most certainly didn't want that. He didn't want any of this.

"Boss?" He inquired hesitantly.

"What?" Adelbert grunted, obviously perturbed that Keenan would interrupt his daydreaming.

"What if the brat's not a virgin?" Keenan asked timidly. "What happens then?"

Adelbert's frown transformed into a knowing grin. "I found a loophole," He stated. "There are three ways in which the spell can be cast. One way is to use virgins, the second way is to sacrifice the deceased's family members or those who carry his essence or some combination of the two."

When all he got was a confused stare from his goon. Adelbert sighed and continued. "If the brat had sex with Yuuri then he carries his essence, therefore he's still a satisfactory sacrifice. If he isn't then we can assume he's never even kissed someone before Yuuri. The Bielefeld family members are notorious prudes. They value virginity as a commodity when bartering for good marriage prospects. The brat is their star-child, they would never allow him to fraternize with anyone outside of marriage."

A soft 'oh' was whispered from Keenan's mouth. Adelbert returned to staring at the fire and imagining the boy king's long legs wrapped around him in ecstasy.

"What about when his folks come looking for him?"

Adelbert sighed at his companion's slow mindedness. "When this is over, we'll burn the house with the brat's remains in it. We head off into the human territory and take shelter in Dai Cimarron. I have some friends who owe me a favor. We'll be fine. Just relax."

Keenan didn't want to relax. He wanted to have never agreed to this. He wanted to have never let his feelings for his boss dictate his decision to help him with such a heinous crime. He wanted to have the ability to stand against his boss and tell him that what they were doing was wrong. But he didn't because he was weak, because he knew he had committed enough crimes in his past that if he were to leave the protection of Adelbert, he would be at the mercy of the bounty hunters and soldier who sought his head. He was completely stuck.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds came from Angelica going in and out of the house, gathering the various objects and ingredients for the final ceremony. Keenan never knew what to think of the red-haired woman, she was always so quiet and vicious that he made it a point to stay out of her way at all times. She was adept at black magic and the magic of the humans, so she would be presiding over the final ceremony. Keenan realized that he didn't know much about her. She had joined Adelbert before he had and neither of them had made any effort to get to know each other. Only doing what was necessary to get the job done and that was that. There was no need for frivolous friendships or mindless chit-chat.

"Boss," She said, cutting into the thick silence like a knife.

"What?" Adelbert didn't treat her with the same contempt for interrupting his musings the same way he did Keenan.

"It's ready," She said, nodding towards the front door, to the alter that now stood proud against the black backdrop of the night sky.

"Good."

Keenan would never understand why Angelica didn't seem to have the same apprehension towards all this that Keenan did. He did know that Angelica would do anything if the returns outweighed the effort. He didn't know what Adelbert promised her to get her cooperation and her silence. Perhaps Adelbert promised her money or something of that nature. Keenan had no idea what though and he couldn't say he really cared. Angelica was ruthless to the point of heartless, completely unabashed about committing acts of murder and mayhem to get what she wanted. He had seen her do terrible things without batting a lash. So it was no surprise that necromancy would to little to stir her nonexistent conscience.

Adelbert suddenly stood up from his seat, brushing invisible debris from his trousers. The glint in his eye had changed from arrogant contentment to something else. Something that sent chills down Keenan's spine, something he had seen before between sacrifices.

"I think I'm going to pay my little pet a visit," Adelbert drawled. "One last go 'round before the big moment."

He turned and walked toward the basement door, but not before giving Keenan an absolutely awful wolf's grin and a wink, slipping off his cape in one graceful movement as he pulled out the brass key to the cellar, lust evident in his eyes.

Keenan shuddered. He never understood what Adelbert was thinking. Fornicating with the creature between sacrifices! It was sick, it was immoral, it was dangerous.

It made him jealous.

Keenan gathered his cloak tighter about his shoulders as if to shield his self from the intruding feelings he felt as he watched Adelbert's back descend into the black void of the cellar. He looked back into the dying flames of the fire, telling himself that it wasn't happening, had never happened, that Adelbert was just innocently checking on the creature to make sure he had feasted on the virgin flesh. But Keenan knew better and he gagged.

* * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

The sound of the cellar door creaking open told Wolfram that he had fallen asleep. They were huddled against the back wall of the main room of the cellar. He had slammed the door of the adjacent room shut, they no longer wanted to see or smell, that macabre scene that lay beyond the threshold.

The mute was sleeping in his arms, comforted by Wolframs awkward embrace. He was shaking, caught in a nightmare, his hand gripping for dear life at Wolfram's sleeve. The mute had managed to calm himself after listening to Wolfram's gentle voice and touch. They had cuddled together for warmth and comfort, desperate for something, anything, that would give them reassurance in the closely encroaching, unknown future.

Old, wooden steps groaned in protest when heavy feet stepped down into their prison cell. Wolfram's eyes, unadjusted to the sudden brightness, squinted painfully at the beam of light from the first floor. He could only make out the massive silhouette of Von Grantz when the man paused at the bottom of the stairs, hands on his hips, assessing the environment that Wolfram and his mute friends called home.

"Well, haven't you two gotten close?" Wolfram could hear the smug grin in Adelbert's voice. He didn't need light to see the insane cruelty that lit those icy blue eyes.

"What do you want from us?" Wolfram shouted, hoping that Adelbert didn't hear the slight tremble in his voice that betrayed his fear.

"What I want is not of your concern," Adelbert replied smoothly advancing into the room. He held something in his hand, but Wolfram couldn't make it out in the darkness, though it felt familiar to him.

"Why can't I use my magic?" Wolfram demanded. "And who is this boy you have captured? Why do you need him too? Can't you see he's helpless?"

Adelbert let out a bark of a laugh that grated against Wolfram's last nerve and made his eye twitch uncontrollably. He hated it when people laughed at him when he was serious. It reminded him too much of his childhood.

"You can't use your magic because its been sealed," Adelbert chuckled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "As to your friends identity, surely you would have noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Wolfram felt the mute shift in his arms, apparently waking from the noise. The sickly boy coughed a few times as he sat up between Wolfram's legs, looking around wearily before settling on Adelbert, who was now just a couple of feet in front of them.

The mute, now fully awake, immediately stiffened and with uncanny speed stood up from the ground, yanking Wolfram up with him, ignoring the surprised yelp from the blonde, and dragging them both away from Adelbert. He frantically tugged at Wolfram's sleeve, but his escape was halted when they hit the closed door of the backroom where he had tried to hang himself. His way blocked, the mute whimpered and cowered behind the confused demon, trembling in fear at the large man before them.

Adelbert smiled widely, seemingly amused by the mute's panicked actions. "Now, now, pet. There's no need to be scared. It's just Master."

Adelbert reached out for the silent young man, but the latter just let out a squeal that made Wolfram jump and retreated even further behind him.

"L-Leave him alone, you bastard!" Wolfram growled as he positioned himself between Von Grantz and his companion.

But Adelbert didn't seem to hear Wolfram's demands. He only stared, a lustful spark in his eyes at the frightened being, hand still outstretched.

"You haven't noticed." It was more a statement than a question. Wolfram's confusion only deepened. Hadn't noticed what?

Adelbert's smile only grew. "Come, my pet. Why don't we show him?"

He advanced towards the couple, making to walk past Wolfram for the mute. The mute cowered even further behind Wolfram, trying vainly to become one with the wall. Wolfram, in turn, tried to block Adelbert, but the larger, stronger man, only shoved him harshly aside and with lightening speed, lashed out and grabbed a handful of ratty dark hair.

Wolfram tumbled to the ground, grunting when he collided with the dirt floor, hands clawing against the dirt and debris. He whipped around in time to see Adelbert dragging the poor young man towards the door, ultimately towards the thin pool of light the opening cast on the cellar floor. The mute boy made grunting, keening noises, just shy of yelping, as he was thrown into the light, illuminating his face for the first time.

For a brief moment, Wolfram felt his heart stop.

The mute boy stared up in fear at Adelbert's looming figure, his face was clearly visible in the dusty light of the doorway. He looked even sicklier in the light, which cast his face in a terrible grey pallor. His watery eyes had dark circles, his black hair dangled in filthy clumps around his sunken face. His clothes, once the regal black garb of a king's funeral robes, hung in stained tatters off his arms, legs and torso. Small, sharp teeth were pulled in a grimace when Adelbert gave his hair another forceful yank so that he faced Wolfram head on and the demon could look onto the features of his long dead fiancé.

"No," Wolfram whispered brokenly, horrified. "There's no way…."

"There is," Adelbert hissed gleefully. "I found it."

"What have you done?" Wolfram could barely feel his mouth forming the frantic words of his mind. He never took his eyes off 'Yuuri", never breaking the desperate stare the no longer dead demon king sent his way.

"What did you do to him?" Wolfram shouted, finally regaining his voice. "What did you do? Why can't he talk?"

The previous shock that had gripped Wolfram before now gave way to his growing anger and outrage at what Adelbert apparently had done. Years of grief pushed to the back of his mind came forth with a will as he was assaulted by the memory of burying his fiancé in those very clothes. He remembered those grey, hollow cheeks, sweaty with disease. He could envision perfectly the glassy, weary eyes, and chapped lips. Minus the layers of filth, Yuuri was exactly as he was at the moment of death when Wolfram held him that one final time.

Wolfram crawled, not trusting his body to carry him steadily on two feet, towards the trembling lump that was his Yuuri. A shaking hand reached out to touch him, to ensure his mind that he wasn't hallucinating, that his memories weren't projecting themselves onto the previously blank surface of his silent companion's face. But just as his fingertips brushed a trembling shoulder, his Yuuri was cruelly yanked back against Adelbert's legs. Yuuri, as Wolfram's mind named him now, whined in pain when Adelbert's large hand tightened its grip on his hair.

Wolfram glared up at the other demon. "You let him go, you bastard!"

"I don't think I will," Adelbert answered haughtily. "I'll never let him go. You had your chance with him and now it's someone else's turn."

"Yuuri!" Wolfram attempted to lunge for the dead man, only to be cruelly whacked aside by Adelbert's free hand. He fell to the ground with a harsh grunt and glared up at the other man. He lifted his hand, ready to summon his flames, but swore when yet again, that strange block hindered his magical abilities.

"What do you want with him?" Since he couldn't fight, Wolfram would demand answers.

"To bring him back to life, to give him the freedom he never had." Adelbert didn't look at Wolfram when he spoke, instead he gazed into the wide, scared eyes of his captive. He reached out to stroke a loose lock of dark hair, a mockery of affection as his eyes glazed over in his crazed lust. "You all left him to die. You could have done more, but you didn't. Still blindly following your dead king like sheep to the slaughter. Even when it cost you your precious Yuuri."

"What the hell are you talking about?' Wolfram shouted. "We tried everything to help Yuuri! Shinou had nothing to do with it!"

"You didn't do enough!" Adelbert shouted back, turning his attention away from Yuuri to stare daggers at the younger demon. "You summoned a couple of healers, then shrugged your shoulders and let a simple childhood illness kill him!"

"Tell me what else we could have done!" Wolfram cried, banging his hands against the floor in frustration. "Tell me what I could have done to prevent his death! I did everything I could. I summoned every healer, sought out every cure, remedy, and potion that I could get my hands on! If there's something I missed you tell me!"

"You didn't look hard enough," Adelbert hissed. "I looked and I found a way. I brought him back from the dead. You occupied yourself with looking at conventional means. I found alternatives."

"Necromancy? You used the dark arts to bring Yuuri's soul back from the dead! Forbidden magic! Don't you know the dangers?"

"If you truly cared about your fiancé, you would have done the same," Adelbert retorted. "And it wouldn't matter if it was dangerous or forbidden! That what's wrong with you nobles! You're too scared to break the rules! Too bound by your blind devotion to propriety and dead kings! I, on the other hand, have no such qualms. I am not bound by such stupidity!"

"But this is wrong!" Wolfram pleaded, looking at Yuuri, still gripped by his hair in Adelbert's huge hand. Wolfram couldn't tell if Yuuri recognized him or not, remembered anything of his previous life. But Wolfram could see the same care and concern in those haunted eyes that his fiancé had when he was alive. Yuuri looked back at him worriedly, trying to communicate through his eyes something that Wolfram could only discern as fear, dread, and a desperation for Wolfram to get out of there as soon as possible.

Suddenly, Yuuri broke the stare and began to convulse violently. Adelbert calmly held Yuuri's head in place. The dark young man made a series of disturbing gurgling noises, fingers clawing at the dirt floor, twisting and turning in Adelbert's grasp.

"W-What's wrong with him?" Wolfram demanded, his hands reached out to Yuuri, wanting to comfort him above anything else, despite the danger, despite the fact that Adelbert had them both imprisoned.

"It's the change," Adelbert sighed as if it were a mere inconvenience and not a medical emergency, as Wolfram saw it. "Let's go, pet. I want my fun."

Adelbert finally let go of Yuuri's hair. He deftly caught the flailing limbs and hoisted the thin young man over his shoulder with uncanny grace. He turned to walk up the rickety stairs back into the main part of the house, ignoring the continued gurgling and kicking of his captive.

Wolfram quickly recovered from his shock and felt a renewed courage when he watched Adelbert manhandle his precious fiancé up the stairs. He got up to his feet and stumbled after them as fast as he could. Maybe if he was able to throw Adelbert off balance, he could grab Yuuri and escape.

He leapt onto Adelbert's retreating back, missing the gangly limbs of his fiancé and pulled as hard as he could. Adelbert grunted in surprise, struggling to retain his balance with the sudden added weight of the younger demon and keep a firm grip on his captive. Adelbert swung around, knocking Wolfram off, but the demon prince bounced back immediately with a snarl and proceeded to rain punches onto Adelbert's exposed chest.

At first, Adelbert stupidly tried to fight Wolfram off with his free am. He quickly realized that idea was silly. Yuuri's constant struggling and kicking made it impossible for him to get a good hit at the other man. With a loud sigh, he callously dumped Yuuri to the ground, ignoring the pained whine as the frail body hit the stairs and tumbled to the ground. Arms now free, he tackled Wolfram to the ground with the intent to immobilize and preferably beat the snot out of the little brat.

Wolfram was a fast and skilled fighter, but Adelbert was stronger and much more experienced in unarmed combat. The two struggled against the dirt floor of the cellar, knocking over things and bumping into the heavy boxes, generally causing a ruckus that did not go unnoticed by the people upstairs.

Wolfram was quickly on the defensive, blocking Adelbert's blows, wincing when heavy fists collided with his arms, legs and torso. He carefully kept his head out of reach since Adelbert clearly wanted to knock him unconscious or stun him. Wolfram tried to go on the offensive by landing a punch of his own, but Adelbert got out of dodge and grabbed Wolfram's arm and twisted it painfully. He made to grab Wolfram's other arm, but the demon prince turned at the last minute and caught Adelbert's wrist between his sharp teeth and but down as hard as he could.

Adelbert swore and vowed silently to make the brat pay when Keenan appeared at the top of the stairs and promptly rushed down to aid his boss.

"Get off!" Keenan growled, yanking Wolfram off the ground and away from the reeling Grantz. He trapped Wolfram's arms behind the boy, effectively rendering him immobile within an instant.

Hurting and pissed, lustful intentions temporarily forgotten, Adelbert stood, wiping off his mouth, glaring at the defiant and struggling Wolfram with contempt. He stalked over to the restrained demon and rained down a few hard punches to Wolfram's exposed stomach. Wolfram crumpled to the ground after the fifth punch, coughing and dry retching in Keenan's arms. Anger stilled, Adelbert returned his attention to his charge who was, as usual, cowering in a corner backed up against some boxes, shaking and whining incessantly as Adelbert grabbed him violently and dragged him up the stairs.

"Y-Yuuri!" Wolfram wheezed, struggling weakly against Keenan's grip, while the other man jut stared at Adelbert's retreating form with sadness and disgust.

Yuuri paused in his struggle to look at Wolfram's prone body. He vainly pushed against Adelbert, but the man only gripped him tighter. He twisted around long enough to mouth a single word to his former fiancé, hand reaching desperately to him.

"Hide!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * YNH * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter three.

I hope you are all enjoying this story so far. I had a great time writing it. There are about two or three chapters left and the revelation of Adelbert's plans will be happening shortly.

Oh poor Keenan, your lack of character development in the series made you a target of my creative liberties. Angelica as well. I don't even know if those are their real names. I just referred to them as Adelbert's gang or Adelbert's posse. I tihnk the woman's name was Angelica or Angela, I have now idea what "Keenan's" canon name is so for now they will be Angelica and Keenan.

Please review! They help me write faster!

EB