The cool Winter air caressed Vanessa's cheeks, bringing a crimson blush to her skin. Drifting miniature snowflakes melted into her porcelain complexion, where they disappeared in wet splotches.
Dressed in her finest attire, including a rather splendid hat she hadn't even recalled purchasing, Vanessa strolled along the street beside Ethan.
Malcolm strode on ahead, his walking cane held almost like a baton, as he directed the newly engaged couple towards the church that lay at the end of the street. The sound of children playing drew his attention, and he tipped his hat at passing mothers, the crisp air revitalising and rejuvenating him in this most joyful of missions.
"Can't help but wonder what kind of priest Sir Malcolm kept company with," Ethan said quietly, smiling to himself at the prospect of meeting the illustrious Father Fitzgerald, of whom Malcolm had spoken so warmly about that morning. That was, after Ethan had somewhat nervously enquired about a man of God who may perform a marriage ceremony.
Vanessa turned her gaze sideways, smiling in agreement with her fiancé, and the couple quickened their pace to keep up with the purposeful strides of their patriarch.
"I'm rather looking forward to meeting him," she murmured. Her gaze swept around the street, taking in the faces of the people - their expressions, their voices. Delighted to be amongst the living again, she would make every attempt this time to be part of their world, and to find her place within it.
"Should be interesting," Ethan observed, chuckling as Vanessa shot him a warning glance that also somewhat belayed her amusement.
"Are you in danger of changing your mind, Mr. Chandler?" she teased, tipping her head as she peered up at Ethan from beneath a fan of lashes.
His grin was brilliant and immediate. He shook his head with such vigour that Vanessa grinned back up at him like the cat that got the cream.
"Nothing could make me change my mind about this," he assured her, pausing in order to lean forward and brush a measured kiss against her forehead. Vanessa allowed her eyelids to flutter closed as she savoured the brief touch of his lips against her skin.
When Ethan finally drew back he found her peering up at him with the most radiant smile he thought he'd ever seen, and it was a gruff cough from Sir Malcolm that finally brought them out of their reverie.
"Come along!" he enthused, "time is of the essence. There is much to do if we're to have the ceremony performed before the week is out. Plenty of time for that later."
"How exactly do you know Father Fitzgerald?" Vanessa pressed, hurrying her pace to keep up whilst trying not to lose her footing on the ice. Ethan kept a firm grasp on her arm, and the two finally caught up with the explorer as he paused to let a horse and carriage pass by them.
"Around the time I set sail for Africa, the good father received his calling to missionary work. He and I grew quite well acquainted during the months we spent encamped. Though there for very different purposes, I like to think in some respects we were kindred spirits, both of the desire to see and explore strange lands, to experience life so very different from our own. He…" Malcolm paused, his blue eyes suddenly downcast, "he was a good friend to me in the most terrible of times, and I shall never be able to repay him for his kindness. I am quite sure he'll be delighted to perform a far happier service now."
Finding the church doors now within reach, Ethan and Malcolm simultaneously removed their hats, and the three entered its dark confines. The combined smells of burning wicks, old books, and wood polish were instantaneous, and Vanessa smiled at the familiarity, taking a moment to pause in the aisle and reverently anoint herself with the sign of the cross.
The church was empty, the early morning mass long ended, leaving only a few candles still burning in front of the alter. Malcolm wandered down the aisle with Ethan and Vanessa following in his wake, his eyes sweeping the stained-glass windows almost absently as he walked.
"Father?" Malcolm called out, pausing uncertainly at the step that lead up to the altar. He could see neither sight nor life of the priest, who he had assumed would be carrying out his duties before the afternoon service was to begin.
Whilst Malcolm waited where he stood, Vanessa and Ethan slid into the front pew. Gathering her skirts, Vanessa lowered herself onto the kneeling mat, where she proceeded to bow her head and clasp her hands on the back of the pew. It had been a while since she had last spoken to Him, but she knew that she certainly had much to be thankful for, and apparently a few moments to spare. She could feel Ethan's gaze upon her, ever watchful and protective, and she smiled as she closed her eyes to utter soft words of thanks for all that she had been granted.
Vanessa allowed herself to get lost in the moment of quiet reflection, feeling a new closeness to the Heavens and the creator who had saved her tormented soul. When the final words of solemn prayer had drifted from her lips, she opened her eyes and was surprised to find Ethan in a similar, yet wholly unfamiliar state of contemplation. Eyes closed, he appeared lost, his whispered words drifting off into the rafters as his brow furrowed with his impassioned words of gratitude and repentance.
The majority of the sentences spilling from his lips were unintelligible, but Vanessa smiled softly as she managed to intercept the last few words he offered to their Lord.
"Thank you."
His eyes flickered open and he beamed instantly at the sight of her beside him. Vanessa slid her hand into his until the warmth of her skin and the beating of her pulse against his thumb chased away the final vestiges of grief that lingered.
"Renewing your acquaintance with the Almighty?" Ethan helped her to her feet and they stood hand in hand in the aisle – a hopeful portent of events to come.
"Well, figured I owed him a nod of appreciation." Ethan shrugged, trying and failing to appear dismissive on the subject, "I'll get down on my knees and pray every night for the rest of my life, long as I get to spend that life with you, Van."
Vanessa grinned, closing her eyes as Ethan leaned forward, his forehead against hers, their hands each clasped in the other's.
"I believe that's being arranged as we speak," she giggled, her heart fluttering at the sensation of his lips against her cheek. His stubble and warm breath were becoming wonderfully familiar to her senses.
Ethan took a brief moment to glance up, noting with relief that Malcolm had located the errant Father, and the pair were now engaged in what appeared to be a cordial, and hopefully productive, conversation.
"Good, because I want this to be official… in the eyes of God, and… and all that," he held her gaze pointedly, his fingertips brushing the as yet empty space on her finger where he would delight in placing a wedding ring.
"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder?" Vanessa asked, the hallowed words bringing the light of pure joy to her face at the implication.
Ethan nodded hurriedly, "Man, devil, demon, and whatever else is out there that I don't even want to know about. This time I'm claiming you for my own, Vanessa. One soul. One flesh, just like it says in the Bible. None of that 'mother of evil' crap. You'll be mine; my wife, mother of our children…"
Reaching out with a trembling hand that betrayed his own emotion, he brushed away the tears that tripped her cheek. It was instinctive for her now to lean into his touch and so she did.
"This time, I will give myself freely," she vowed, "body, heart, and soul, with the very deepest of love."
The almost overwhelming happiness he felt at hearing her affirmation was only heightened by the feel of her pressed to his chest. Her arms encircled his waist in an embrace chaste enough for their surroundings, yet telling of the easy affection that now existed between them.
Finding themselves ushered over by Sir Malcolm, they began to walk hand in hand towards the front of the church.
"Tell me my love," Vanessa mused, her eyes twinkling with impish mirth all of a sudden, "shall I be Mrs. Ethan Chandler, or Mrs. Ethan Talbot?"
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head as he replied, "Darlin', you can call yourself whatever you want, so long as you call yourself mine."
"I do believe I am making something of a poet out of you," Vanessa teased. She squeezed Ethan's fingers gently and was pleased when he returned the gesture just as the couple drew to a halt in front of the priest. The man was balding with a heavy paunch, clearly a similar age to Sir Malcolm, if not of more advanced years. He clasped his hands in front of his robes as he spoke, a pleased smile lighting his face. His cheeks were ruddy and his voice was kind, and he was every preconceived notion of a man of the cloth that Vanessa had ever held. The hour drifted past them in almost the blink of an eye, and it was all too soon that they were spilling out of the church onto the snow encrusted pavement to begin their journey back home.
As they walked, Vanessa arm in arm with both of the men she loved most in the world, she found her eye drawn to a nearby shop window. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood erect and her breath escaped her in a cloud of white smoke as she stared in wonder across the street at the beautiful white lace gown that dominated the centre of the shop display.
At her side, Malcolm slowed his pace until he had also drawn to a standstill, his gaze following Vanessa's with interest. He soon acknowledged the source of her awe, a smile playing across his lips.
"It is magnificent," he murmured, leaning over her shoulder in order to whisper in her ear. Ethan stood in confusion at their sides, perhaps not yet understanding why their small group had stopped so abruptly and just what held the attention of his future wife so raptly.
"It is yours, if you would like it to be," Malcolm continued, an almost hesitant expression crossing his features as Vanessa turned to stare sharply at him. He hastened to add, "That is, if it isn't too forward of me to suggest as much."
Shaking her head, Vanessa tore her gaze from the gown only long enough to glance at each of the men in turn.
"No! Thank you, Malcolm, it's a very kind offer, but I'd feel… silly. I'm not a young girl any more, and…" arching an eyebrow at Ethan, she added quietly, "I'm hardly the blushing bride."
The thought of wearing a bridal gown had never crossed Vanessa's mind. There were plenty of beautiful, if not slightly solemn dresses in her wardrobe that would be perfectly serviceable for the occasion. She had never been one to dream of her wedding day with girlish fantasy. Yet there was a pang of desire deep within her heart that made her want to experience the moment. To truly live, and create memories so much better than those of her previous years on Earth.
"My dear, when you have reached my lofty years, then you may consider yourself no longer amongst the young," Malcolm chuckled. However, his tone softened in a telling fashion as he continued, "You will make a beautiful bride, Vanessa, whatever you choose to wear. But I would like to do this… as one of my gifts to you. And perhaps, a little for myself? Allow me to see one of my daughters dressed for her wedding day?"
Ethan nodded resolutely, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Vanessa's cheek, "A wise man, Sir Malcolm."
Winking at Vanessa playfully, Ethan gave her hand a squeeze.
"Now, I find myself in need of a ring." First repeating the kiss, Ethan then gestured to the window and whispered, "Try it on!"
Ethan sauntered away from the two, shooting only one backward glance at Vanessa in order to determine if she had moved a single inch further towards the shop. She had not, but he had no doubt that Malcolm would be able to persuade her in time.
"Come, let's simply look," Sir Malcolm suggested, offering his arm to Vanessa. She latched onto it quickly and with a smile of her own pulling at her lips; she was certainly enamoured by the gown, but mostly she was amused by Malcolm's enthusiasm, the likes of which she had not witnessed for a very long time.
"Well, no harm ever came from looking," she conceded as they crossed the street, mindful of oncoming carriages and a few women pushing prams. When they drew level to the window, Vanessa realised that the distance had not even begun to do the dress justice. She moved so that her nose was almost pressed to the glass pane, like that of a child staring in the window of a toy shop.
"You deserve this and so much more," encouraged Malcolm, a wistful look in his eyes as he regarded Vanessa. She smiled back at him and he reached across the expanse between them to lay a gloved palm against her cheek.
"I'm not sure what I deserve," Vanessa lamented, indecision flickering across her face as she confessed, "I had a dream once… a vision, I suppose. The demon offered me everything it knew my heart desired."
"In exchange for your soul?" Malcolm guessed, his grip on her arm tightening as she nodded. "May I ask what exactly it was he offered?"
A faint blush graced her cheeks and Vanessa paused in the doorway of the shop as she admitted with slight embarrassment, "Everything I tried to convince myself I didn't want. Love, a family of my own… But I confess I'd given up on that life, until I met Mr. Chandler. All of a sudden I desperately wanted those things; to be a wife, a mother… to belong somewhere."
Sensing her mood about to grow melancholy, Malcolm patted her hand, "You shall have everything your heart desires and more, Vanessa. And… I believe I shall be a splendid grandfather!"
Vanessa laughed, a genuine spark of mirth glistening in her eyes, "If not an entirely indulgent one."
Malcolm shrugged, opening the door for her and glancing up at the sound of the jingling bell that instantly sent a sales girl bustling in their general direction. "Perhaps the sins of my past can be corrected."
Vanessa ran her eyes over every gown in the shop as Malcolm conversed with the assistant, who fluttered her eyelashes at him in a probable attempt to encourage him to part with his money. Vanessa found that no gown was as splendid to her eye as the one displayed in the window, and she allowed a smile to overtake her as she contemplated the idea of wearing it in just a few short days.
"Are you getting married?" a small, innocent voice pressed her from at her elbow. Faintly surprised, Vanessa wheeled around, one hand at her chest to still her pounding heart.
"Goodness, I did not hear you," Vanessa gasped, forcing a laugh from her lips as she worked to look somewhat less flustered. The young, blonde girl peered back at her, no trace of amusement in her eyes or her features. In her hand, she clutched what appeared to be a brand-new porcelain doll, which seemed somewhat odd given the shabby state of her own clothing.
"Are you to be wed?" the little girl pressed, cocking her head as she observed Vanessa. She wrapped an arm around the neck of her doll and pulled it tight to her chest.
"I am," Vanessa answered, quick to add, "that is a very beautiful doll. What is her name?"
"Vanessa," the girl replied, a smile finally finding its way to her lips as she ran her fingers through the doll's auburn curls. "Who are you to be married to? Did you meet a handsome man?"
Grinning at the girl's candidness, Vanessa said, "The most handsome man you could imagine."
One eyebrow arched, the young girl smiled still, yet the gesture somehow made Vanessa's blood run cold. "As handsome as an army captain… like Charles?"
The breath left her body in a short, sharp gasp, and Vanessa stumbled back, eyes wide. "No. It can't be. This cannot be…"
The child laughed, brushing her doll's ringlets between her fingers as her giggles betrayed her more sinister motives.
"Silly girl! I thought for sure you would recognise me, my dear friend… my dear sister. It seems my father has claimed you as his own, but perhaps there is some truth to that. A truth known only to him and your whore mother. But no matter… I am home now."
Vanessa let loose a strangled sob, feeling the pull of unconsciousness drag her towards the ground. Yet even as she felt her knees give way beneath her, her eyelids began to flicker rapidly and her eyes rolled back into her head whilst the visions assaulted her mind.
A hospital ward, a dying child, a grieving family; and something unearthly and wretched that had risen, wearing the poor girl's corpse like a fine silk glove.
x-x-x
She awoke with a cry, sitting bolt upright and finding immediately that gentle hands were restraining her. She fought their attempts to settle her back against the couch she lay upon, her eyes wild and her heart beating a staccato rhythm that couldn't be at all healthy.
"Let me go, let me go!" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch as she thrashed her arms about. Her hand must have connected with something or someone, because she felt the impact. When she heard a yelp of pain, she realised it must have been the latter.
"Easy, Van, calm down," a familiar voice urged her, and Vanessa found herself immediately soothed by it. She collapsed back against the couch cushions, tears springing to her eyes as she struggled to correct her breathing. She was in danger of hyperventilating and she had no desire to be tugged under by unconsciousness yet again.
"Hey! Hey!" his firm voice directed, and a careful hand moved to cup her face and turn her panicked gaze towards his own.
Staring at her in obvious concern, Ethan sat down on the couch she rested on. His thumb massaged her cheek as he willed her to regain control of her senses. "It's just me, it's okay."
Vanessa seemed to calm, her breathing no longer laboured and fast, and yet the haunted expression behind her eyes remained.
"Ethan…" she gasped, clasping her hand over his and seeking his touch until her tears trickled down the back of his hand.
Terrified beyond the point of reason, the American cast a furtive glance over her entire body, not at all reassured by Victor's appraisal of the situation as a fainting fit brought about by the stress of their upcoming nuptials.
"Is something wrong? Are you… are you sick? You scared the shit out of me, Van. When Malcolm carried you out of that store, I…" He closed his eyes, willing the images of her blood drenched body to leave his mind, yet they remained, taunting him, reminding him of his sins.
Shaking her head in misery, Vanessa shuffled closer to his body and threw her arms around his neck. Burying her face into his chest, she allowed herself a moment to take a breath as his hands swept over her back.
"The damned soul that followed us back from that place…" Vanessa began, her eyes suddenly searching the room for sight of Sir Malcolm.
"You saw it?" Ethan released her from his arms, holding her elbows at arm's length. He noted with rising trepidation the mournful and also guilty expression that had settled on her features.
"Mina," she replied simply, her voice scarcely a whisper, "it was Mina."
The following silence was heavy and suffocating. Vanessa could almost see Ethan wrestling with the truth, not managing to conceal his shock, fury and fear as they tackled him all at once.
"Are you sure?" he pressed, grim and sober. She nodded an emphatic yes and Ethan felt his heart sink to his gut. Just when they thought they were to be granted some peace, some respite from the evils of the world. Would this always be the story of their lives? Would they be constantly locked in some sort of battle between the forces of good and evil? Were they doomed to run from things that would do them harm for the rest of eternity?
Ethan shook his head hard, with it shaking away his own thoughts, which had grown momentarily too maudlin. He had never been one to give up so easily, and now that he had Vanessa back in his arms he was determined to make sure that she maintained her own fighting spirit.
"We'll handle it, then," he said, and with such unwavering resolve that Vanessa could not doubt him for even a second. Despite the frown that dominated her lips, which had grown too accustomed to wearing a smile over the last day, she nodded her head again.
"Together," she resolved, although she could not thwart the stream of tears that began to leak from the corners of her eyes. "But however will I tell Malcolm?"
Ethan shook his head helplessly. Keeping Malcolm in ignorance of the truth would be potentially disastrous, especially given the spirit's assumed motives. After all that had transpired between them, they owed him answers. He had after all been the one to take the fatal shot that killed his own beloved daughter, and he was sure that was a fact her vengeful spirit would not have forgotten.
"We tell him together. He needs to know."
Vanessa let her head rest against the solidity of his chest, her spirits well and truly deflated.
"I had allowed myself such fanciful, indulgent daydreams today. I feel almost foolish now for entertaining them."
"No," Ethan scolded her, his fingertips caressing the nape of her neck as he angled her chin upwards. "Whatever happens… this week ends with us as man and wife. In the meantime, I'm not leaving your side for a moment."
Vanessa attempted a smile but the dark clouds swirling in her irises told of her fear and sorrow. Mina was full of malice towards her, and perhaps now Ethan too. They could not afford to be complacent, he was right.
"How should we…?" Vanessa posed only half the question, cocking her head towards the doorway rather than finish her utterings. Nevertheless, Ethan knew what she was referring to.
"We do it now. Make it quick and…" Ethan trailed off. He had been poised to say 'painless'. Somehow that summation did not seem quite right for the information they were about to impart to Malcolm.
Vanessa's gaze fell to her lap and she hesitated for a moment as her conscience once again reminded her of the indiscretions of her youth.
"It may not be Sir Malcolm's actions that motivate Mina's wish for vengeance. I am the one responsible for taking away her happiness," she added in little more than a whisper, "Perhaps she is set to prevent mine."
Ethan sighed as he reached towards Vanessa and gathered her hand in his own. His thumb stroked her skin and she squeezed his fingers in return, although her eyes refused to meet his.
"Not one of us here is perfect, Van," he said, obvious regret colouring his tone, "I wish that I could say we were, but we've all made mistakes… some more than others."
He paused, closing his eyes against the sound of Sembene's screams echoing in his own mind. He reigned in a shudder at the last second before managing to push the tormenting memory away.
"Yet you are one of the best people I know," he continued, crouching down in front of Vanessa and ducking his head to intercept her gaze, "you sacrificed your life for the world; you put the fate of billions of souls you've never even met before your own. Your mistakes don't define you. You don't deserve this… or any other kind of 'punishment'."
Hearing the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, Vanessa sucked in a slow breath. She worked hard to force a smile as the door to the study opened and Sir Malcolm strode in, a genuinely delighted expression in place as his eyes landed on the pair.
"Ah, good, good. You're feeling better, I trust?" he checked, gazing with concern at Vanessa as he sat at her side and ran his eyes over her in a thoroughly analytical manner.
She nodded her head before she glanced up at Ethan, who she had sensed was about to speak. Malcolm's seemingly exuberant mood would apparently not be dampened – or even briefly halted – and he continued on, oblivious to how the air in the room had changed.
"I hope you won't mind but I took the liberty of having the dress ordered. The ladies assured me that it will be delivered bright and early on Friday morning."
"Thank you," Vanessa said, although her voice was strained and tight. Her smile was a poor façade but Malcolm seemed not to notice in all his excitement. Ethan, offering his support as usual, moved closer into Vanessa's side. Their hands were joined together, hers fitting inside his like a key inside a lock.
"I must say, I have not felt quite so nervous in a while, perhaps since my own nuptials," Malcolm chuckled, shaking his head in awe at his own exuberance, "we have our work cut out for us if we are to be prepared by Friday."
"Malcolm," Ethan began, his sombre tone immediately drawing the other man's attention. Malcolm's brow creased, and he glanced from Ethan to Vanessa and back again with a frown tugging at his lips. It took several seconds for his shoulders to sag and darkness to cloud his features once more.
Sourly, he inquired, "We are in some manner of trouble again, aren't we?"
A sense of panic suddenly overcame the older man as, jumping to wrongful conclusions, he began to ponder the possible implications of Vanessa's collapse. "My dear, are you unwell? Is this… Is this a consequence of what we…"
"No, no," Vanessa hurried to soothe him, reaching out and placing her free hand over his. "Nothing like that, I assure you. I am quite well."
This time her smile was genuine, and Malcolm sighed in relief, patting her hand and securing it with his own.
"The spirit that followed us out of purgatory, or whatever the fuck that place was… It was Mina," Ethan stated, blunt and striking straight to the heart of the point, as usual. Generally, it was one of the things that Vanessa found she loved most about him. However, in the face of Malcolm's utter devastation, it was somehow less charming.
Vanessa sharply drew a breath, which she did not seem to release even ten seconds later whilst she watched Malcolm grapple with the knowledge imparted to him.
His features had crumbled almost instantly, and when he swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat it was an audible action.
"My Mina? My… my daughter was condemned to that terrible place?" he choked. Pressing a balled up fist to his lips, he fought to master his emotions.
"Her soul was not condemned," Vanessa said, closing her eyes as the vivid images of the vision she had been assaulted with earlier returned to her. "It was her choosing to remain there and to try to find a way back. It was she who appeared to you both as my spectre. I would not have had you risk your life for mine. But I'm afraid the situation is perhaps graver than we feared."
Malcolm blanched, a bitter chuckle rising from the hollow of his chest. "More grave than my daughter's soul returning to torment me?"
"She came to me. In the bridal shop. She has somehow assumed the body of a young girl, little more than a child. One destined for the grave… a victim of disease." Vanessa shook her head sadly, "I do not know what her intentions are, Malcolm. But she bid me to relay a message. She has come home."
Malcolm was silent for several moments, the anguish plainly scrawled across his face. In his mind, he could relay so many joyful moments, which were now all lost to time and tragedy.
Squeezing Vanessa's hand, he lifted his gaze to regard the couple. His blue eyes were near obscured by the fresh tears welling there, yet there was a steely determination in his voice when he spoke.
"Whatever it is that arrives on my doorstep, whatever vile creature, whatever perversion of nature may call upon me 'father', that is not my daughter. It is not my Mina. I shall not allow it to destroy the happiness I now see within all of our reaches."
Vanessa longed to somehow comfort the man, but she could hardly understand the depths and breadths of his feelings on the matter. She had yet to be blessed with children of her own, and she did not want to begin imagining what it might feel like to bury one. Malcolm had endured that particular torment twice in his life already, or perhaps thrice if Vanessa were to count herself into the equation, as Sir Malcolm assured her he did. There was very little she could say that could balm the sore, just empty words that would seem hollow to her own ears as well as everyone else's. How she longed to change things with every last fibre of her being, but she knew that there was no going backwards, only forwards. Sometimes, that proved to be the more painful path; there was a peculiar kind of agony that went hand in hand with the task of leaving lost loved ones in the past, even though that was often where they belonged.
"I know it changes nothing but… for my part in all of this… I am truly, deeply sorry," Vanessa murmured, her eyes downcast. Her hands trembled in a visible demonstration of her own shame. For Mina's loss at least, she was guilty.
Malcolm nodded, brushing irritably at the tears that betrayed him, but he squeezed her hand that little bit tighter.
"Hush now," he soothed, patting her hand and offering her a warm smile, "it does none of us any good to revisit the past. We are all guilty of some misadventure. I fear my own decisions in the past have been far from exemplary. I was a stranger to my children and little more than a visitor in their lives. But I loved them, despite my sins… oh how I loved them… and I simply will not… no, I cannot lose you again."
Forgoing all sense of propriety – perhaps something that had long since been tossed aside among the small family – Vanessa threw her arms around his neck, uncertain if it was comfort she offered or sought. Malcolm held her fast, peering over her shoulder to meet Ethan's eyes.
"Whatever we must face, we face it together," Malcolm reaffirmed, offering Vanessa a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.
She nodded, face still buried in his shoulder, and he stroked the back of her head in a gesture that was almost absent now for its familiarity.
"So, I know we just sprung this on you, Malcolm, but what's our next move here?" Ethan pressed, leaning back against the couch and relaxing slightly now that the worst of the bad news had been delivered.
Malcolm paused, allowing Vanessa to break free from his embrace and wipe the tear tracks from her face with the handkerchief.
"I dare say that if we simply wait, Mina will make her presence known to us again," he said, his tone obviously hesitant. "However, I am loathed to allow as much."
"I'm gathering she's after more than just a social call," agreed Ethan, the hidden meaning behind Malcolm's cautious words evident to him. "You think we can find a way to send her back to where she came from? Maybe draw her out in the open?"
"I would wager it would be possible," he replied, fighting to iron out the unease and sorrow that was working its way across his expression, "I could perhaps speak with the Father again, although I have no idea how well versed he may be in matters of the occult."
"It seems to me that the safest bet is the good doctor," Ethan stated. He did not miss the immediate scowl that dominated Malcolm's face, or the irritable huff he breathed in the next instant.
"I feel perhaps I should offer the 'good doctor' a salaried position," Malcolm stated wryly, his eyes locking squarely with Ethan's. "You yourself are familiar with the service of exorcism, are you not?"
Releasing a pained sigh, the American shrugged with obvious reluctance, "I can fumble my way through it, if I have to."
As the somewhat traumatic and sordid memory passed between them, Vanessa moved closer as Ethan lifted his arm to draw her into his side. Neither of them wanted to remember her in that state - under the thrall of the demon and crazed with its dark magic. Although, it was perhaps slightly less sickening to Ethan than the memory of his gun pressed to her abdomen, and the weight of her corpse in his arms.
"Good," Malcolm stated, "but you must not put yourselves in harm's way. Take no risks, think only of your own safety. I fear Mr. Lyle will not be inclined to join us in this venture. He has taken to his country house in Scotland, so it shall be just the four of us… should Victor agree to such things."
"He hasn't let us down yet," Ethan remarked, absently tangling Vanessa's fingers with his own. The feel of her bare skin against his own was a sudden reminder of the golden sapphire ring that nestled in a velvet pouch in his pocket, along with their new wedding bands.
"I suppose I shall begin making arrangements then," Malcolm declared, shuffling out of the room in a far more subdued manner than he had entered it.
Ethan and Vanessa were left sitting in silence, which could be looked upon as both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, the peace was welcome given the gravity of what they were about to face, and yet on the other it only added to the foreboding with which Vanessa regarded the coming storm.
"This is nothing," Ethan said firmly, seeming to read Vanessa's dark thoughts as she sat staring at her lap.
"I wouldn't quite say that," she countered, raising her gaze just slightly and pursing her lips, "Mina is angry, perhaps justifiably so. As she sees it, I am the reason for her death. I have taken everything from her that there is to take, and I truly believe that she means to make me pay for that."
Gathering her hands in his, Ethan waited until Vanessa had turned to face him before he sought out her eyes. The smile he offered bordered on mischievous and Vanessa's brow creased as she noted his sudden shift in demeanour, which hardly seemed appropriate. Perhaps even a shade of nervousness seemed to have suddenly overcome him.
"Hey, do something for me will you, darlin'?" His grin widened as Vanessa shot him a suspicious look, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her uncharacteristic uncertainty. "You trust me, Van?"
"Implicitly," she replied quickly and with ease. She watched his lips descend upon hers and almost purred when they actually kissed. He drew away far too soon, leaving Vanessa wanting more as always. She closed her eyes, hoping that being blind to him would abate her longing.
She barely just managed to chime in, "Although don't think I have not spied the hint of mischief in your eyes, Mr. Chandler."
He kissed her again, and the feel of his smile against her lips almost left her breathless. Ethan managed to fumble somewhat blindly in his pocket for the ring whilst Vanessa sought out his lips once more.
"Keep your eyes closed," he directed in a whisper, noting how she shivered at the sensation of his breath against her skin. Unable to resist, Ethan dragged a line of kisses down her neck, delighted when the thrum of her pulse increased in urgency against his lips.
"Ethan…" she began, suddenly perfectly still and quiet as she felt the cool metal being gently pushed onto her finger.
"Shhh… open your eyes."
Vanessa's eyes dutifully fluttered open, but they remained locked adoringly on Ethan's face until he had pushed the engagement ring all the way down to the base of her wedding finger. He brushed his thumb over the trinket to redirect her gaze, and immediately she released a gasp.
"I believe it's customary for a gentleman to present his betrothed with a token of his affection," he said with a lazy smile as he recollected her hands in his. The diamonds and sapphires glinted in the daylight - a bright yet rich shade of blue that was perfectly offset by the miniature diamonds that surrounded them. "Now, I'm not exactly a purveyor of fine jewels, but… I saw this, and… I thought of you."
Emphasising his point, he lifted one hand slowly and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, allowing himself to stare into the azure eyes that seemed to be a perfect match to the precious stones.
"It is breath taking," Vanessa whispered, her tone earnest as she reached up and ran her hand through Ethan's hair. Her grin was so wide that it almost seemed as though she had completely forgotten about the matter at hand. Only the faint glint of unease in her eyes betrayed her.
"Just like the woman wearing it," Ethan countered, and he moved forwards quickly to seal his affirmation with a kiss. Vanessa reciprocated, melting into him as though she was helpless to do anything else. When they drew apart a few seconds later, Vanessa could feel her heart thrumming insistently. Ethan peered down at her, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks and his eyes still trained on her lips.
"We will be okay," Vanessa said, sucking in a deep breath before she added, "you are quite right. I must be sure of it, if I want it to be true."
"That's my girl," encouraged Ethan, his chuckle half teasing. He bowed his head, ready to steal another kiss, which Vanessa was more than willing to grant him.
Pausing to catch her breath, Vanessa let her cheek rest against his, and Ethan greedily drank in her presence; the hum of desire he could still feel on his lips, the scent of her skin, and the way her body fit against his own. Two imperfect halves creating a whole.
Though they had decided that more intimate relations would wait until their wedding night, a palpable desire burned and sparked between them. All too soon their lips were meeting hungrily again.
For a brief interlude at least, the machinations of the 'other' – of the darkness that existed beyond the shadows of the demimonde - was eclipsed by the light they had found in each other.
x-x-x
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long time indeed since my last confession."
Father Fitzgerald started, releasing an audible gasp as he straightened up from his position at the altar, where he had been tending to an arrangement of flowers that had begun to wither.
At first, he thought the interruption a joke and he was mildly angered by it. There were not many dedicated churchgoers who did not know the correct place for a confession to take place. However, when he spun on his heel, his countenance softened upon seeing the young girl standing before him. She was a mere child, and perhaps she truly did not know the proper way of things yet. It was his job as part of the clergy to teach and instruct her, and he vowed quickly that he would not do so in frustration. She certainly seemed earnest enough, standing before him with her hands clasped in front of her pretty, white dress. In fact, she looked the very picture of innocence, and the father found that his smile came easy.
"Good evening, child," he said, taking a step forward and nodding his head to punctuate his greeting. "Usually we prefer to conduct such business in the confessional box. If you would care to return at…"
"I have been very bad, I fear," the girl declared, her eyes downcast and her voice melancholy. The father felt his heart seize for her; she who was probably avoiding her parents after some sort of childish indiscretion that truly would not matter in an hour's time. He remembered being a child himself well. He had been quite the hellion, as his mother had liked to tell it. Still, he had found his way to God and the cloth, and in turn a life that had made his parents' hearts swell with abject pride before they had died.
"I am almost certain it is not as terrible as all that," he said, a kindly look in his eyes as he observed her, shuffling from one foot to the other whilst she hung her head. "It seldom is."
Though the child appeared to be an unthreatening presence, the priest couldn't help the sense of inherent unease that had begun to creep up on him. Indeed, when the girl lifted her gaze to regard him patiently, he blanched when he noted the red specks colouring her eyes, where small haemorrhages had begun to occur. On closer examination, he saw that her bloody gaze was framed by dark circles, which offset the almost unearthly pallor of her skin.
Taking a step backwards, the priest's eyes searched the church for any sign of life. Finding none, he took another step of retreat and then another, noting with a gasp how his breath was suddenly being expelled from his lips in cloud of white. The chill of the air permeated his robes until he found himself trembling. The sudden stench permeating the air, something skin to rotting meat, set his stomach lurching and he was forced to reach out a hand to the altar to grasp the wooden railings for support.
Mina smiled almost shyly. Her gaze dipped down to the ground and she clasped her hands behind her back, testing the weight of the heavy brass crucifix in her small, borrowed hand.
Mina chuckled with a roll of her shoulders that resembled a shrug. The smile she offered the man before her was nothing short of sinister.
"Oh Father, you have no idea!"
An hour later the alarm would be raised by the church warden, with the Father conspicuously missing from his post, and a sticky smear of blood staining the stones beneath the altar.