Many thanks for the chapter six reviews, all are really appreciated. This chapter sets the scene for what will happen next. As always, all errors are my own and unintentional. Please feed the review demon, thank you kindly xx :)
Chapter Seven:
"I remember that night… so clearly" Alice breathes. He looks down at her. Her skin is lined with the wrinkles and creases of old age, her thin hair is wispy and pure white in colour. In truth he is almost thirty years her senior, technically he is old enough to be her father but in reality he looks young enough to be her grandson. He looks exactly the same except that his hair is longer now and he doesn't shave nearly as much as he used to. His eyes are the same, his voice too. The women love his accent still and it's his voice that Alice remembers.
"You should've listened to your mother and stayed in bed" he whispers back and she turns her head in his direction again.
"Why are you… here?"
"I heard that you were unwell…"
"Did they tell you… to kill me, is… that it?" He leans over and with his other hand, he smooths her forehead.
"Why would they want to do that now?" he all but croons.
"Because of the… book, because of …what I wrote"
"If they wanted you dead darlin' then they would've done it a long time ago. They weren't bothered by the book, after all it's just a piece of fiction, a fairy tale."
"You and …I know…that it isn't"
"You were a child Alice; you don't know what you saw. So who do the public believe, or more to the point, who do they want to believe? It's for the best that the real world stay ignorant to what haunts the shadows"
"It's the…truth, every word of it"
"You called them black eyed devils, a very interesting choice of words there"
"Your eyes were …black, pure fathomless black…pits" she whispers back.
"You weren't supposed to see that, you were supposed to be in bed" he reminds her.
"I wanted to see…the party"
He holds out his arm and she slides hers through, her hand resting on the crook of his elbow.
"Shouldn't your husband be doing this?" he asks as they begin to walk. She glances at him.
"He's downstairs, playing the convivial host" she doesn't hide the disgust in her voice.
"Won't people talk if they see us come down the stairs together?" he asks curiously. He sees her smile, how it makes those eyes of hers sparkle.
"Quite frankly, I don't care" she squeezes his arm slightly and after a moment he looks away. They pause at the top of the staircase. There are people milling around, most of them in costume, masks hiding their identities. Something catches the corner of Mitchell's eye and as he turns his head, his eyes widen.
There are photographers milling around with the guests.
His stomach plunges to his boots as he realisations the implications. He can't be photographed; he physically will not show up on any photograph that is taken. He glances nervously at Charlotte. She seems serene almost. She's taking in her surroundings and hasn't noticed his change in expression just yet. He takes a breath. He makes a show of patting down his pockets. Charlotte turns and gives him a questioning look.
"I've forgotten…I need to go back…" he points behind him. He turns but she grabs his forearm.
"I can wait if you like" she offers but he shakes his head.
"Go down without me, I'll be with you shortly, I'm sure there are plenty of other people willing to escort you down" he flashes what he hopes is a confident smile. He then turns and strides back the way he has come. It briefly crosses his mind that Charlotte requesting that he escort her down the stairs was more to do with showing her husband what she is capable of more than anything else. What was good for the goose and all of that…
He encounters Lily approaching him and she frowns at his expression.
"Mitchell?" he pauses.
"There are photographers at the bottom of the staircase" he informs her in a low voice and he watches how her eyes widen.
"Oh no, does Herrick know?" Mitchell just shrugs.
"I'm sure he does. Come on, I know another way down" she slips her hand into his and they head for the back stairs, hidden away and predominantly used by staff.
The amount of people present in the house makes Mitchell nervous. He's assaulted by an orchestra of heartbeats, pulses beating and blood flowing beneath pale privileged skin. He hates having to wear the stupid mask but Lily insists that it has to be done. He glances at her. She looks stunning in a gown of diaphanous silver material that catches the light and shimmers and sparkles a little. She attracts attention and he has a feeling that it's deliberate.
He sees Charlotte. She's standing beside her husband and together they're greeting their guests. He watches her for a moment and he sees how she socialises and smiles. He remembers her sprawled across his bed the previous night, lost in the throes of passion and despite himself, he feels his body begin to react. He takes a slow, deep breath. He needs a drink, alcohol or blood, he doesn't care which.
The doors to the ballroom are thrown open and there's a sharp intake of breath as the guests see the interior for the first time. Mitchell walks with Lily into the cavernous room and his eyes take in the decoration. It's all very…gothic with filmy long curtains of black and red at the windows. A stage area has been set up with a band. They're dressed in tuxedos and their faces have been painted a ghoulish white with black circles around their eyes. Mitchell and Lily exchange one long slow look. Slowly they turn and they see lit candles, some solitary, others nestled within spectacular looking candelabras dotted around giving the whole room a subdued, spectral air.
"This is a disaster waiting to happen" Mitchell mutters. Beside him Lily giggles.
"Only if you want to be darling. You have to admit, it's all very…"
"Clichéd?" she looks up at him and she smiles.
"But this lot seem to be lapping it up" she continues with a tilt of her head. Mitchell looks around at the guests present. They all seem to be very impressed with what they're seeing.
"Do you know, it took me a little while but I think I've got it all figured out" Mitchell turns his head when he hears Herrick's voice and he watches his sire come to stand beside him. He doesn't answer, he doesn't ask him what he's talking about. Instead he takes a mouthful of champagne and he waits.
"Why you were so insistent on leaving here earlier, why you were almost outrageously rude to Charlotte Blythe-Pearson to her very face. It took me a while but I got there" he turns slightly and looks at him and his smile is very slight but there's a smidgen of admiration glimmering in them.
"She's made a beeline for you from the moment you stepped over their threshold. Oh it was subtle to begin with but today it was, in hindsight, blindingly obvious. She's very, very…sweet on you young man" his voice is low despite the music being played.
"She's a married woman"
"Her husband is an out and out rake by all accounts, with mistresses in both London and Bristol apparently. You need to be careful. He may have mistresses but it doesn't mean that he will allow her to take a lover, any lover" He pauses and takes an almost delicate sip of his own drink.
"She's looking for a bit of fun for herself and seemingly she has chosen you to provide the entertainment. Be careful" he warns. Mitchell widens his eyes slightly.
"I know exactly what I'm doing" he informs him.
"Do you? John, this has Lily's fingerprints all over it. You forget that I know her, I know how she operates so when I say be careful, believe me, be careful" he fades away amidst the other guests and Mitchell turns his attention to the dance floor and he sees Lily across the way. She's a vision of irresistible loveliness and there's more than one pair of eyes on her. He sees how she throws her head back and laughs, exposing the length of her pure white throat and her male attendees are utterly transfixed by her. He takes another sip of his drink and he frowns darkly.
Charlotte turns from her conversation and the breath catches in her throat when she sees John striding towards her. Even with the mask covering the upper half of his face, she can see that it's him. He looks magnificent. She waits as he stops in front of her.
"Would you like this dance?" he asks, holding out a hand and his change in demeanour has her head spinning. She turns her head as the band strike up a waltz. She smiles graciously and she takes his hand and she allows him to lead her onto the already busy dance floor.
He's very accomplished and this surprises her. The previous evening he'd been distracted and barely civilized but now he's attentive and he moves her around the dance floor with ease. There is no awkwardness, he's graceful and she doesn't have to worry about having her toes stepped upon.
"I wanted to apologise…about earlier…" Mitchell begins and she looks up at him. She waits.
"I have a tendency…I think the term is, to blow hot and cold. I didn't mean to…upset you in the library or…later, I tend to…react first and think later" He hates apologising; he's never any good at it.
"It's all forgotten John, let's not bring it up again" she reassures him and his smile is fleeting. He tightens his hold on her.
"I'm glad" he admits.
One dance turns into another. He knows that they're attracting attention, creating speculation. He looks into Charlotte's blue eyes and he sees how they sparkle and he knows that it's his brand of charm that has put it there. He bends her over his arm and smiles into her eyes and then brings her upright and she twirls beneath his arm in a swirl of gold and white. She laughs as the music draws to a close and Mitchell escorts her off the dance floor.
"How about I get us a drink?" he suggests and she just nods. Her hand lifts to gently cup his cheek. He briefly stills then takes a breath and goes to search for champagne.
"I hope he's worth the gossip my darling" Charlotte turns her head and she glares at Hugh who has materialised beside her. She straightens very slightly and looks away.
"And what gossip would that be darling?" she answers coldly. She watches the band start up again and she sees their guests flood onto the dance floor again. She forces herself to smile even though it's the furthest thing from her mind right now. Her eyes search John out but he seems to have disappeared. She hopes that he doesn't take too long with the champagne. Hugh sends her a level look.
"I see how you look at him Charlotte, like you want to devour him, it's embarrassing" Hugh hisses and she looks at him again. Her eyes are like chips of ice.
"And how do you know that I haven't done so already?" she retorts and his eyes widen and she sees anger flare. She smiles derisively this time.
"You're not the only one who can have fun Hugh" She watches his face turn an interesting shade of puce. He lifts his hand and she braces herself for what will surely follow but it stops mid movement. Hugh turns his head, his eyes widening in alarm. He gasps when he sees who it is.
"If there's one thing that I can't stand, it's a man striking a woman for no good reason" Mitchell keeps his voice low but the intent is clear is in his eyes by the way he is glaring at him.
"You have some nerve Mr Mitchell" Hugh hisses in outrage. Mitchell applies subtle pressure to Hugh's wrist.
"What is the matter with you, don't you like a woman with a bit of spirit?"
"Is there a problem here?" Mitchell turns his head when he hears Herrick's voice, like pouring oil on troubled waters, he's there to ease any discomfort and Mitchell slowly lets go of Hugh's wrist. The look he sends to both Hugh and Charlotte is dark and as he turns, he tears off his mask and walks away. The look Herrick sends Hugh is apologetic.
Mitchell retreats to the peace and quiet of the library. He can still hear the band playing merrily away in the distance.
He lowers himself down onto a leather sofa and he broods. The strength of his reaction to Hugh's raised hand has surprised him but it is a genuine one. He's a vampire, he has done or been a part of some truly horrific events but seeing the look in Charlotte's eyes as his hand had come up unleashed something else inside of Mitchell. He used to hate any kind of violence against anyone weaker or more vulnerable and before his recruitment he witnessed a few. Now he shouldn't really care but Hugh's reaction has pushed buttons that he had previously thought long concealed. It's made him angry. He glowers at the mask lying loosely between his fingers. He drops it down onto the low table in front of him and he sits back in his seat and he sighs. He scrubs his hands over his face and briefly closes his eyes. This place is too much for him, the people present are too much for him. The urge to leave and to hell with the consequences rises sharply inside of him.
His eyes pop open again when he hears the door open. He lifts his head slightly when he sees Charlotte standing in the entrance.
"Oh there you are. I thought you'd left" she breathes and enters the room. He watches her close the door behind him. He stands up as she strides towards him, her gown floating around her. She's discarded her mask and the angel wings are also gone.
"Are you alright?" she enquires as she stops in front of him and he frowns at her.
"Why shouldn't I be?" he replies.
"Because I thought you were going to strike Hugh before" she answers, her eyes widening in surprise.
"He had no right to do that to you" he mutters, feeling the anger briefly burn inside of him.
"I provoked him" she admits and he shakes his head slightly.
"That's no excuse" he takes a deep breath and makes a conscious effort to shake himself out of his dark thoughts.
"What are you doing here? Won't your husband come looking for you?"
"I don't care" she replies. He watches her move closer to him.
"You should. He's your husband, you told me yesterday that he pays your bills, he takes care of you and your children"
"Because I choose to look the other way to his affairs"
"But he doesn't like the thought of another man paying attention to you" It's Charlotte's turn to frown mildly.
"Apparently not"
"It's a pride thing; no man likes being made a fool of in public"
"He's made no secret of not caring about me John, As I've said before, I've secured his family line, his future is safe so now he's free to whore his way around London and Bristol and I'm supposed to just moulder away in this dump and let him" Mitchell regards her and then he leans a little closer to her.
"It sounds like you care more than you admit" he whispers and he watches her eyes widen in horror.
"I don't. I truly don't" she breathes. Her eyes scan his face. She seems to be contemplating her next move. He takes a breath.
"I'm going to be gone tomorrow and you'll never see me again. I'm not worth the trouble" he murmurs. Her eyes scan his face and her hand comes up to touch his cheek, her thumb tracing beneath his eye. She stands on tiptoe and she presses a kiss on his mouth and draws back to look into his eyes again.
"Don't do that" he whispers. He watches how she tilts her head to one side and there's a strange little smile on her face.
"Why not?" she enquires. Slowly his hands reach out to gently grasp her upper arms.
"You have no idea who you're dealing with do you?" She smiles mysteriously.
"Why don't you tell me?" she suggests and he pauses. He slowly smiles in response.
"I have a better idea, if you're game" he whispers. His eyes gleam with promise.
"I'll show you"
