A/N: Ahh, it feels good to update. LOL.
Warning: Finally, a use for this thing! This warning is for two of the best: high amounts of gore and "tasteful" smut, haha. Woo!
The wind tears into my face, quite nearly numbing my senses. Sebastian holds me in his arms, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as we cross through – over, rather – London. Matthew England is the name of the first killer, and his shanty home lies on the outskirts of Whitechapel. It hadn't taken Sebastian long at all to unearth the rest of the details of this man, and we had set out directly after the sun set.
Our journey lacks the presence of snow, making the going easier. In this part of England, October snow is quite common and it's rather strange that it is missing. Clouds have gathered overhead, promising something, but I hope the weather holds off for just a little while longer. Sebastian and I are not quite dressed for snow at any rate.
Before long, Matthew's home comes into view. He lives in the woods in a house so decrepit that I'm amazed it's still standing. Light shines from one of the windows, telling us Matthew is home, and it makes my heart beat as though it's trying to break free from my ribcage. Sebastian sets me down just outside his front door, and as my feet touch the dirt a frigid rain begins to fall from the sky.
"Rain," I grumble, looking down to check my dress. I didn't want to make tonight too overly-dramatic, but I still want to make an impression. Nothing is quite as sweet as death delivered by the hands of a beautiful woman – or, so they say.
I don't want to waste any time, so I step up onto the front step and take a deep breath.
"Do you remember the plan?" Sebastian has leaned down and murmured into my ear from his stance behind me.
"How could I forget?"
I glance over my shoulder after hearing Sebastian's chuckle and take in his appearance. We've dressed in elegant wear – he's got on a long coat with shining silver buttons, a top hat circled with a charcoal ribbon and holds a thick trunk with a handle, dressed as if he's aristocratic. My dress is the finest I own; gentle waves of chiffon and silk wind around the full skirt, meeting a bodice of smooth red silk crusted with diamonds around the neckline. I have on a black mink stole to keep my shoulders hidden.
I have no doubt Matthew will recognize me by appearance alone, so I've donned a large, floppy hat with a brim long enough to fall into and shield my eyes. I'm certain Matthew won't recognize me until I want him to. I'm loathe to let the mink stole get wet, so I quickly knock on his door. It takes a moment and several disembodied thumps, but finally someone answers the door.
"What?" A voice snarls angrily. Light from inside washes over my dress and I lift my head just enough to where my mouth can be seen before I bother speaking.
"Excuse me, sir, I hate to be a bother," I begin, carefully disguising my voice into the delicate timbre of a frail, breakable woman. "But it seems we have gotten caught in this storm. Would you happen to have lodgings for two for the night? Rest assured I will pay you for your troubles," I let a tiny smile grace my mouth, and judging by the lack of answer I'd say Matthew is considering my offer. Both Sebastian and I are dressed in such a way as to not-so-subtly hint at money.
"Come in, come in, out of the rain. Both of you." It amuses me that the tone of his voice is a lot less hostile – now that he knows money will be exchanged for his 'kindness'.
"Thank you, sir. Very kind of you." Sebastian's voice weaves a soothing melody, reassuring the soon-to-be-dead murderer that everything is all right. I hear the door shut behind us and Matthew's footsteps move away, so I turn around to face Sebastian and lift my head to meet his eyes. The look in them is fascinating.
Sebastian lifts the hat from my head and carefully brushes away any water before hanging it on the wall behind us and turning back to me.
"Are you noble, did you say?" I'm simply amazed how quickly Matthew's attitude changes at the mere mention of money – it makes me sick.
"Aristocratic blood. But if it is all the same to you, my colleague and I would prefer not to discuss my roots." Sebastian winds the mink stole off my shoulders and rests it on the back of a chair, arranging my hair just so before I dare to turn around. The way his hands skim over my shoulders quite effectively bares my marks, and I know Matthew sees them.
"What happened to your shoulders?"
I wonder if he's close enough to completely discern every different swirl of vine or prick of thorn, and when I hear him take a few steps toward me, he is stopped by the warning heat in Sebastian's glare.
"I was in a happy accident," I tell him, rolling my shoulders to draw his attention to them. "The scars healed too dark for my tastes."
When I turn, I see Matthew for the first time. I estimate he's in his late thirties, and he's graying already. Lines on his face are evident to a long, stress-filled life – but I guess killing my family and friends does that to a person.
The light of recognition dawns in his eyes, but it is too late. Sebastian quickly sheds his coat and top hat, moving in a blindingly fast blur to stand behind Matthew and bind his arms behind his back.
"I know who you are," he says in a soft breath, struggling against Sebastian's iron arms. "Augustine. Valentina Augustine."
I smile, feeling all the nerves drift from my body. My heartbeat is steady and true – I'm more than ready for this.
"Matthew England," I brush my hair back, stepping closer. Sebastian forces Matthew into one of his chairs and steps away, returning to my side. His eyes are glowing ultraviolet and pupils reduced to those alarming feline slits as he stares at me, waiting for my orders.
"I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my colleague," I gesture to Sebastian with a soft voice. "I would like to introduce you to Sebastian."
"Demon," Matthew spits, sounding afraid. "I know what you are."
Sebastian bows to him, but it is not the same respectful one he uses with me. It's one of complete eye contact and bared teeth in a feral, silent animalistic snarl.
"I'm protected from you," he says suddenly, dropping his eyes. "We all are. She told us about you and you can't touch us."
I'm too preoccupied by his words to answer, but thankfully Sebastian steps in for me.
"I think you misinterpret the reason for our visit," he says smoothly. "I am not here to kill you – my Lady is."
Matthew laughs abruptly, and the offense in the gesture has my blood boiling. "Is this a joke?"
I step forward briskly and slap him across the face, leaving a bright red welt and a flabbergasted expression on Matthew's face.
"Don't you dare presume to insult me," I seethe, clenching my fists. "I'm not helpless anymore."
Matthew grimaces, leaning sideways to spit blood onto the floor. He takes a minute to poke at the inside of his cheek with his tongue, cupping his face and glaring up at me.
"That's right," he says quietly. "You've made a deal with the Devil. You sold your soul for this unholy trash, didn't you? That shows how weak you really are."
I make to slap Matthew again, but he snatches my wrist painfully tight and stops me. In one quick, black blur, Sebastian vanishes from my sight and a shark crack fills the air. My wrist is released and Matthew howls in pain, clutching his broken arm to his body.
"Sebastian!" I exclaim angrily. "I don't need your help!"
Sebastian's hand moves over his breast and is silent, acknowledging my words.
"But that's where you're wrong, Valentina. You do need him. You couldn't even pull free from my grip until he snapped my arm in two."
I grit my teeth and fold my arms.
"Tie him up."
Matthew glares defiantly at me while Sebastian rummages around in the trunk, withdrawing a length of cord and a dagger. The dagger goes in my hand and Sebastian quickly binds Matthew's wrists to the chair, tying his ankles together.
I lift the dagger eyelevel, admiring the clean, silver blade and the way the light from his fireplace reflects off it. I set the dagger on the table and hop up on it, pulling the blade back into my lap and using a piece of silk from my skirt to polish the already gleaming silver, seeing the way Matthew's eyes follow the movement. Sebastian stands just behind Matthew, looming silently and imposing.
"What will you do?" Matthew asks me, blinking slowly.
"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions," I tell him. "And you'll do your damndest to answer them correctly. Otherwise I'll carve you up like you did my Father and Siobhan."
Matthew shudders and smiles all in once. "Stupid woman. I had no part in Siobhan's death. But your Father… I won't lie that it was my blade that decorated him."
I snarl, leaping from the table and slashing Matthew's chest. He winces and stays silent, glancing down at the blood that blooms from the wound. Sebastian's eyes burn as he watches me with an unreadable expression dominating his face.
"That's the wrong answer, you piece of shit."
Matthew laughs weakly, shaking his head. "Bitch," he smiles, looking back up. "Is that all you can do?"
I don't answer, making a show of wiping the blade clean on my skirt instead. His blood will go nicely with red silk.
"I want you to tell me the names of your accomplices."
Matthew chuckles in place of his answer. "Brothers," he insists. "Blood brothers. She used her magic to bond us together. You really think a little knife will get me to open up?"
I move forward and kneel in front of him, pasting an innocent smile on my face. "No, but I know this 'little knife' will open you up. Do you know what a Chelsea Grin is, Matthew?"
When he doesn't answer, I lift my blade. "You take a knife, just like this one, and cut from here to here." I drag the tip of the dagger from the corners of his mouth to his cheek, relishing in the way his expression falters. "And then you beat the life out of your victim until his facial wounds rip open from screaming too much."
Matthew swallows hard – his act of bravado is beginning to melt.
"Would you like one, Matthew? Of course, I've never given anyone a Chelsea Grin before… but I'm sure you won't mind if I try a couple of times to get it right, will you?"
Matthew opens his mouth to argue, so I press the blade to his throat to silence him.
"I didn't think so! And I'm really no good at physical violence, so maybe I'll cut you instead. Doesn't that sound fun, Sebastian?"
"A fine suggestion, my Lady."
"You'll have to do a whole hell of a lot more than that to get anything out of me, Augustine."
I let my eyes burn into his before I stand, turning on my heel to look away. "You know, you're probably right. But we have all night, don't we Sebastian?"
The demon makes a sound of agreement and says nothing.
When I turn back to face Matthew, he's glancing down at his chest wound again.
"Does that hurt?"
"No," he spits, narrowing his eyes. "I've known worse pain than your little bitch blade." I grin, on the verge of laughter when I rejoin him at his chair.
"You're probably right," I say again, grasping a handful of his shirt and stabbing the blade through, ripping it open to bare his chest. I'm disappointed my initial attack hasn't hurt him that badly; I can see from the cut. "We'll just have to do something about that, then."
I grit my teeth and press my blade into the first wound, dragging it down his chest to his belly button with an emotionless smile. Matthew groans in pain and lets his head fall back, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. This time I see I've caused him significant harm – the blade's gone at least two inches into his stomach. Blood flows quickly from the cut, pooling at the waist of his pants and soaking them completely through.
"Maybe I'll ask you a different question," I muse, wiping the blade on his leg. "We can come back to that one a little later. I want to know why. Why my family? Why leave me alive?"
Matthew smiles, repositioning his head back to normal. "That's more than one question, Augustine."
I growl, slashing my blade across his face.
"Do not be too hasty, Mistress," Sebastian interjects calmly. "Do not let your anger wear out too soon. Make it last. Savor the feeling and use it to make him pay."
"How interesting," Matthew mumbles. "The demon coaching the woman."
Sebastian glances down with roiling eyes, but Matthew can't see the intensity of it. He instead shuts his eyes and groans, smiling suddenly.
"Cut me again. Make it a good one and I'll answer one of your questions." Ferocity blazes in Matthew's eyes and sweat beads on his forehead, but his gaze does not waver. I wonder how serious he is, and decide that if he's bluffing I can always carve him like a pumpkin instead. I'll do that anyway, but it would be nice to get some answers before he dies by my hand.
"Which one will you answer?"
Matthew chuckles softly, shaking his head. "How many questions you got?"
"Only three, and I think it'd be in your best interest to answer them all."
"There's five of us, remember? Three questions for five murderers doesn't add up. You'd better think of two more – and fast. I'm only willing to answer one, but if you can get three answers out of me then you're a better woman than I give you credit for."
Excitement blooms in my stomach, but I don't let it get in the way of my concentration.
I kneel before Matthew and study his bleeding torso, an idea springing to mind. I carefully imitate his insignia in the very same place he put it on my Father, hoping he'll appreciate the irony of it. Matthew yells out in pain but has a wicked grin on his face when he glances down.
"That's a good one – so I'll give you a name. Pay close attention, Augustine, and remember what I say. I won't tell you twice, and I can see you're the type of woman who needs things explained a few times. Ernest Driar. Got that?"
"Ernest Driar," I repeat. "Is he one of your accomplices?"
Matthew smiles sweetly. "One answer, remember?"
Fury washes over me, tinting my vision red. I quickly add five more cuts over the long, deep one and watch as Matthew's face pales. His strength is waning quickly, so I hurry to ask him more.
"My Lady," Sebastian says, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten he was near me. I look up and see the violet in his eyes giving way to white pentagrams, making my demonic marks begin to burn slightly. "He will not give us the answers you seek. Perhaps it is time to finish it?"
Matthew's ragged breathing is a testament to Sebastian's words, and I look to him as I stand.
"I suppose so. Listen, Matthew – because you were so complacent, I'll go easy on you. Instead of carving you like a turkey, I've got a new plan. I'm just going to let Sebastian eat your soul."
The color drains from Matthew's face and leaves him white as a sheet.
"No," he mumbles, "no! Please, my soul must be saved! My soul is not for you, demon!"
I silence Matthew quickly, sliding my blade across his throat and letting the blood run down his chest like a torrential waterfall.
"All yours, Sebastian. Make it quick – I'd like to go home." I wipe my blade clean on Matthew's pant leg and step back, returning the dagger to the trunk where it came. I hear a feral growl and turn my head to see Sebastian's eyes focused on Matthew's body, his mouth opening to reveal that mysterious white glow spill faintly out. His pointed teeth make me shudder and I turn away, unwilling to let this side of Sebastian alter my opinion of him.
A few moments pass before Sebastian touches the small of my back. I jump and turn; relieved to see he's back to his old self. The violet in his eyes has faded to red and a polite smile graces his mouth.
"Is my Lady ready to retire home for the evening?"
I look around him to where Matthew's body slumps in the chair, still tied and glistening with blood. He doesn't look any different to me.
"Did you take his soul?" I ask, taking a few steps toward the corpse. "He looks the same state of dead as before."
"The eyes, Mistress. Look at them and you will see." I get closer and lift his head with my pointer finger, raising it up so I can see. All color in his eyes has vanished, leaving only white orbs in the sockets. It's very creepy and I shudder, turning my head away.
"Is this how I'll look when you eat my soul?"
Sebastian does not answer right away, but when he does his voice sounds strange. "Yes, my Lady." I don't let this knowledge bother me, and before I return to Sebastian's side to don my clothing, I dip my pinkie finger in Matthew's blood, drawing the number 1 on his forehead.
"Now they'll know I'm coming for them."
"Come, Mistress. It is late and you must be tired." I rejoin Sebastian and allow him to drape my stole back over my shoulders, reaching for my hat and fitting it tightly to my head for the journey back home. Sebastian dons his jacket and top hat quickly, opening the door for me and stepping into the cold rain at my side. He picks me up with one arm effortlessly and leaps onto Matthew's roof, jumping to the closest tree to start the trek back.
Once home, Sebastian draws me a bath and helps me step into it, discreetly looking the opposite way. He is about to leave when I stop him.
"Wait, Sebastian. Stay with me," I ask, sinking down into the hot water. It feels like heaven on my aching muscles; especially my arms. I learned tonight that it is surprisingly difficult to cut flesh – the amount of pressure required had been a learning moment for me.
"As my Lady wishes." He takes his place near the door and stands with his hands behind his back and I roll my eyes and sigh exasperatedly. I'm feeling peculiar all of a sudden, and the only thing that interests me is to have Sebastian close. The carnage and blood I'd caused and shed tonight is not draining me as initially thought; rather, it makes me desire Sebastian's attention and affection. I want him to kiss me again – he has not in some time now, and just that thought is enough to make me grumpy.
"If I may, Mistress? I am very surprised and pleased with you and your success tonight." Sebastian's eyes grab hold of mine and I notice the hungry expression in them. His words ignite warmth in me and I can't help but smile in response. I beckon him closer and invite him to sit on the edge of the tub, which he does with a neutral expression. I rest my arm near him and lean my head on it, freeing myself from his pointed gaze and studying his pantleg instead. I'm close enough to see the fibers in the fabric.
"Thank you," I say. "That means a lot. I'm happy with myself, too," I laugh, hearing Sebastian make a noise of amusement in his throat and he shifts his weight, turning toward me. I lift my head and distract myself by swirling the water around, feeling a sudden heat in my cheeks.
"I have no doubt in my mind that you will be able to see through your task to the end, and achieve your goals."
I slowly meet his eyes, feeling my heart pick up suddenly.
"Kiss me, Sebastian."
Sebastian's eyes darken, and he hesitates. "Are you sure, Mistress?"
"Don't make me order you to do it."
Sebastian grins and bends, pressing his hand to my neck. I stretch and grasp his face, feeling the way his lips meet mine carefully slow. I don't want that, though, so I tangle my fingers in his hair and increase the passion in my kiss. Sebastian is more than willing to comply – especially when his tongue traces my lower lip and invades my mouth with all-too eager permission on my end. His tongue is slick and warm and it makes my heart beat frantically in my chest as I pull myself out of the tub.
Sebastian does not seem to mind that I'm soaking wet when he pulls my body close to his. His gloved hands skim over my wet skin, and that bothers me, so I pull back and reach for his hands, pulling his gloves off for him. I press his hand to my cheek and turn my head to kiss his palm, opening my eyes only halfway to look at his face.
I can't even begin to describe the look in his eyes, but his gaze is like molten lava. His eyes drift down to my marks and then, finally, lower. I can't keep myself from purposefully moving his hands to cup my breasts, leaning into him to reach his mouth again. Sebastian's hands are skilled, knowing exactly what to do in order for me to push myself even closer to him.
"Take me to the bed," I ask him breathlessly, pausing for the first time since taking his gloves off. My whole body is aching, trembling for him. I need Sebastian to take control and bring me to the place I haven't dared to go with anyone in months.
Sebastian hesitates, taking my face gently and angling my head so he can meet my eyes.
"My Lady… Do you know what you are requesting of me?" Sebastian's eyes almost seem like they're tormented – he's looking past my eyes and into my soul, the way only a demon can.
He isn't refusing me, so I don't let myself get embarrassed.
"I know exactly what I'm asking. I wouldn't do it otherwise." He searches my eyes, opening his mouth as if to speak and saying nothing. I offer him a wan smile. "You won't hurt me. It's not my first go at this."
I don't know what has Sebastian hesitating so. This is the only time I've ever initiated the kissing – doesn't that say something in itself?
"Yes, Mistress." Sebastian moves quickly, lifting me into his arms. I twine mine around his neck, dipping my head to continue kissing him. He doesn't need his eyes to see, that much becomes obvious very quickly when I'm laid gently on the bed. Sebastian straightens up and removes his tailcoat while I wait with anticipation. Just when it seems I'll go insane, Sebastian smiles darkly and bends over me, moving himself to form a sort of cage with his arms and legs around my body.
I reach up and grasp his face, bringing it down to kiss him. His hair falls into my face and I can't resist; I brush my fingers through it, amazed it's so silky. When I can't stand the fact that he's still clothed and I'm not, I move my hands over his chest to find the buttons to his shirt. It's pitch black in the room, thanks to the late hour. The moon only barely offers the faintest amount of light, as shielded by the rainclouds as it is, but my eyes have begun to slowly adjust.
Sebastian can see perfectly, of that I have no doubt. He doesn't need his hands to help him paint a mental picture like I do, but he uses them anyway for the sake of the moment. The demon pulls us up and sets me down on his lap, tired of our previous position. I curl my legs around his waist, now nearly completely dry, and work my way down his chest to get his shirt off.
Sebastian's laughter is muted and suggestive. "In a rush are we, Mistress?"
I don't listen to him; I work my hands underneath his shirt and slide it off his shoulders, letting it fall behind him. I've paused, now, leaning slightly back to admire his physique. Countless times he has seen my unclothed form and this is the first for me. I want to run my hands over his chest and feel every inch of his pale skin under my palms, so I do it. My eyes follow my hands, but when I look up I see unbridled desire fueling the ultraviolet in his eyes.
I always have been perceptive.
