Niles waited impatiently as the elevator made its way up to the fifteenth floor. He tapped his foot and fiddled with the small leather case in his hands.
Leave it to Miss Babcock to forget the company chequebook, he grumped to himself. He had a million things to do, but he was running across town to deliver the cheques instead. She was going to owe him big for this, and he'd make sure she knew it.
As he got off the elevator into the small private foyer outside of her apartment, he hoped he hadn't missed her. If he had, he'd have to follow her to the theatre. Then she'd really have to pay.
He noticed the flowers in front of the elevator were fresh and wondered whose job it was to change them. It seemed like a lot of effort for one woman who was never home and who hated flowers.
Niles reached out to touch a petal but was briefly frozen by a shrill scream. His blood turned to ice at the sound.
Spurred on by fear, he hurried to the door. His hand was shaking as he turned the knob and pushed his way into the penthouse.
He was shocked to see Miss Babcock in the arms of Ian Woon. They were back to front in what would normally be considered a lovers' embrace. Her expression was frantic and desperate; his was triumphant and cold.
When Chester saw Niles, he sprang out from under the couch and started barking.
"What's going on?" Niles asked.
"Go home, butler," Woon growled, his voice full of ice. "I have something I need to do here."
Miss Babcock scratched her nails up Woon's arm, leaving four long, deep welts. Blood oozed out of them, and Niles stared at it in fascination.
"Niles, help me," Miss Babcock choked out when Woon reacted to his wounds.
Her voice broke Niles out of his stupor, and he moved forward, rushing the pair. To protect himself, Woon had to free Miss Babcock, and he did so by roughly throwing her to the floor.
Niles only had time to see her jump up with her eyes blazing before his body hit Woon's. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, with Niles on top.
The kid was strong. Niles realized this when he got a fist to his face. It was hard enough to split his lip and turn his left cheek numb. Niles, barely able to stay upright, shook his head to clear it.
They struggled, and Woon bucked his body, this time able to dislodge Niles. He straddled Niles's waist, punching him again.
Niles's head rang with the blow, and his eyes watered. He fought for consciousness, holding on to Woon by his belt loops so he couldn't get up.
Absently, Niles heard Miss Babcock scream again. This time, it was full of rage. It was followed by a thump he both heard and felt in his body before Woon's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on top of Niles.
Niles pushed Woon onto the floor, breathing heavily. By the time he was in a seated position, Miss Babcock was already on the phone dialing 911. Her face was devoid of color and her eyes were large and round and almost entirely black.
He hauled himself to his feet as she hung up. Her breathing was starting to come in ragged gasps, and he was afraid she'd pass out.
"The...little...bastard..." she managed to force out.
"Miss Babcock, are you all right? What happened?"
"He...I..."
Niles took her arm and helped her to the couch. Together they sat. For some reason, he kept on holding her, but she didn't seem to mind.
After several seconds, she focused on him. "Niles, your face is bleeding."
"What do you expect? He hit me."
"He tried to strangle me. I think I'll have a few bruises." She sounded calm—maybe a little too calm.
"Are you hurt?"
"What?"
"Did he hurt you?" He had to fight to keep from yelling and shaking her.
She shook her head. "Not badly...Where's Chester? He kicked Chester."
At his name, the little dog came running over and jumped in CC's lap. She patted him absently, her eyes on the unconscious boy on the floor.
"He said he was going to kill me, Niles."
XXX
Ian woke when the authorities got there. As he sat up, they drew their guns and surrounded him. The boy's eyes grew huge and he began to tremble.
"What...what's going on?" he stuttered.
One of the officers came forward and forced him to his feet. Ian looked bewildered as he was read his Rights. Beseechingly, he looked at CC, as if he expected her to interfere.
"Please..." he said haltingly, "Please, can I call my mom?"
"You can call her after we take you in," he was told gruffly.
CC watched the expressions going over his face from a safe distance. She was sitting on the couch, allowing herself to be looked over by a paramedic.
"My...my head hurts. What's happened? What am I doing here?"
"Please take your Right to remain silent, kid," the police officer sighed. "You can discuss all of this with your lawyer."
His eyes sought CC out, and he asked, "Miss Babcock?"
"I think I hit him too hard," she commented to Niles as he settled down beside her and the paramedic got up and walked away. The butler had been sticking fairly close to her side and, if she didn't know better, she'd almost think he was worried about her.
"That might be," he agreed as the police dragged Woon out of the penthouse. After a pause, he continued, "I think you and Chester should stay at the townhouse tonight."
"Why? We'll be perfectly safe now that Woon..." She trailed off.
"What is it?"
"What am I going to tell Maxwell?" She groaned and slumped back, sending a jolt of pain through her ribs.
"I can't see how he could blame this on you," Niles told her, his tone almost kind.
"Everything's always my fault, haven't you ever noticed?"
"Not when it's mine," he said dryly.
"Talk to me when he's still erroneously blaming you after twenty years for his passing on Cats."
Niles chuckled and patted her hand.
Suddenly, CC felt exhausted. Even though it was only three in the afternoon, she felt as if days had gone by since that morning. Both her throat and her ribs hurt, and she knew she was lucky nothing had been broken. She hated to think what would have happened if Niles hadn't shown up. CC had dealt with her share of both violent and sexually intimidating men. She knew how to take care of herself; she'd taken several self defense classes. There'd been something different about Ian. He was stronger than any man she'd ever had to deal with.
She knew she should thank Niles for interfering, but instead she asked, "What were you doing here, anyway, Rochester?"
He pointed to the case he'd dropped in his scuffle with Ian. "You forgot the chequebook. Mr. Sheffield was afraid you wouldn't be able to secure the theatre without it."
"It's a good thing I did, I guess." That was as close to a thank you as she was willing to give.
Leaning back, she sighed and closed her eyes. She could feel Niles watching her but refused to acknowledge it.
"Pack a bag and get Chester," he said quietly, "and I'll take you home."
"I am home, Niles."
"I don't think you should be alone."
"What do you care?"
His voice hardened. "Stop being so stubborn, woman."
She opened one eye. "Woman?"
He scowled. "Slip of the tongue."
Some of the tension left her body, but she still felt too tired to move. "If I agree to come with you, will you feed me and draw me a bath?"
"I'll consider it."
CC weighed that against staying alone in a quiet apartment where she had been assaulted.
"All right, Butler Boy. You win."
XXX
"I can't believe this is happening," Maxwell said, pacing between the desk and the couch.
"I'm fine, though, Maxwell. Thanks for asking." She couldn't help the hint of sarcasm that crept into her tone.
"What were you thinking, letting him into your home?"
"Well, I wasn't thinking that he'd try to kill me. That's for sure."
At least Maxwell had the decency to wait until morning to grill her on what happened. When she'd stumbled in the day before, he'd taken one look at her and ordered her to bed. For someone as oblivious as he was, it spoke volumes about the way she looked.
Not that a day had made any difference. A large purple bruise marred her neck in the shape of Ian's hand. It was there for anyone to see. Her chest, ribs, and stomach also held dark bruises, and she was so sore, it hurt to move.
Maxwell ran a hand down his face in despair. "What am I going to do, CC?"
"You could put on the show anyway. Maybe the publicity will be good for us."
He just shook his head. "What did you do to enrage him?"
"Contrary to popular opinion, Maxwell, talking to me does not usually incite people to violence."
"But you must have done something. He seemed like such a nice boy."
"Don't be angry with me, Maxwell. The kid just snapped. Asking why isn't going to change anything."
"You did do something, didn't you?"
Niles came through at that moment carrying a tray. "Tea?"
"Your timing is terrible, as usual, Niles," Maxwell told him, leaning against the desk and rubbing his temple with his hand.
"Why is that, sir?"
"Maxwell was just trying to figure out what I'd done that was bad enough to drive Ian to try to kill me," CC said icily.
Usually, she put up with Maxwell and his silly notions because she liked him and because she had dreams of someday living in his house as his wife, but today she just couldn't put forth the effort. Despite what Maxwell thought, people didn't try to kill her every day, and the whole thing had shaken her.
"Who wouldn't be driven to violence, listening to you?" Niles quipped.
CC's jaw clenched. He glanced at her and winked before setting the tray down on the desk. The wink loosened the knot that had been forming in her stomach since Maxwell started questioning her.
Niles made her tea first. He rarely served her before Maxwell, and she lifted an eyebrow curiously as he handed her her cup.
"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Babcock?" he asked politely.
"I'm fine," she said, taking the tea. "How about you? I see the swelling's gone down some."
CC wasn't the only one with visible marks from their scuffle. Niles's lip was split and slightly swollen, and there was a faint bruise on his cheekbone.
"It only hurts when I smile," he said, smiling at her anyway.
"Please stop your chattering," Maxwell told them sharply. "I have to figure out what to do."
CC sighed. "You have two choices, Maxwell. Either produce the play or choose something else. Pick one, and let's get started."
"It's not quite that easy. There will be consequences either way."
"We can't do anything until you decide. I may as well go home."
CC knew she was pushing it. She wasn't usually quite so blunt with Maxwell, but her patience was getting thinner by the moment. She hurt, she had a headache, and every time her mind wandered, she saw images of Woon's face as he attacked her.
Maxwell just looked at her.
"Forgive me, Maxwell. I hurt all over and it's making me irritable," she told him, taking a sip of her tea. It was just the right temperature and tasted delicious.
His eyes dropped to her neck. He stared at it without speaking for so long that she wondered what he was thinking. Finally, his gaze softened, and he asked, "Why didn't you take the day off?"
She shrugged. "The show must go on, right?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes...Well...What do you suggest we do?"
"You're asking me?"
He nodded, accepting his own cup of tea from Niles.
"If you think we can make a killing with it, I say go for it. Woon's signed the papers. It's all ours."
"But was he in sound mind?"
"If his family wants to fight us, they will. There's nothing we can do."
"I suppose you're right. I do want to think about this first. You may as well go upstairs and rest. Don't bother coming to work until tomorrow."
"Are you sure, Maxwell? What if you need me?"
"He won't," Niles said, plucking the teacup out of her hand.
"Hey, I was drinking that!"
A hint of amusement came to Maxwell's face. "Niles, take CC upstairs, would you, old man? See to it that she gets some rest."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm not a child," CC protested.
"Of course not," Niles said, his eyes twinkling as he took her arm. "Now, come along, dear, it's time for your nap."
CC put on a show of stubbornness, but it was all fake. She was so tired and so sore that curling back under the covers sounded like Heaven. Still, she couldn't let the men in her life have their own way without a fight.
XXX
Randall Babcock listened to the voices outside his room. There was joy and laughter, sorrow and pain. Usually at that time of the afternoon, he'd be out there with them.
Today wasn't any other day, though. He looked furtively around the room, feeling the skin crawl along the back of his neck as if he were being watched.
He had to hurry.
There was a notepad and a pen inside his old trunk. In fact, there was probably an envelope in there too. Even yellowed with age, it would still be able to perform the function he needed of it.
Randall's hands shook as he took out the items and sat at his desk. He didn't have much longer, and every second he took could mean his granddaughter's death. He wrote:
My Dearest Chastity-Claire,
You are by far the strongest and bravest of all my grandchildren. I'm a man of few words, so I've never told you how proud I am of you. You have a fierceness of spirit not found often these days and, though I saw you seldom, I tried o help it blaze and grow when I could.
I'm writing this because I need to warn you before it's too late. It's here with me now, I can feel it. I can feel it watching me, and I know that soon I will be dead. This thing, it's made of a darkness so deep that it gets inside your mind and destroys you from the inside, and it's coming for me. It wants me dead because I'm the only one that knows what's going on. Once it gets rid of me, it will come after you because you are the only one who can defeat it. And because it needs you.
I can't explain what it is; there's just not enough time. Please, read my father's journal. You need it; it will protect you from the dark.
In a way, I'm glad it's you. You've always been my fierce warrior girl, even when you thought yourself just a shy, mousy child with no voice. I knew then what you could be, and I've never been disappointed. I can't imagine what would happen if Diane Dorothy or Noel had to fight the shadow.
Be safe, Chastity-Claire and, most of all, don't let it win.
One last thing before I face my own death. Trust only those you know care for you. Until this nightmare is over, trust no one else. If you do, you will die.
I love you,
Grandfather
Randall lay his pen down and carefully folded the piece of paper. Sadly, he placed it in the envelope and sealed it before writing "Chastity-Claire" on the outside. He was ashamed at how the shaking in his hand twisted the letters, but there was nothing he could do about it.
The feeling of being watched had disappeared, and he knew that it was time. Hurrying over to his bed, he shoved the letter under his pillow, knowing that they'd find it when they stripped the bed.
Satisfied and exhausted, Randall lay down. He took comfort knowing that his letter to Chastity-Claire was safe under his head.
He had just closed his eyes when he heard the door open. Without looking, he knew who it was. He shivered as his arms bloomed with goosebumps.
Sitting up quickly, he stared at the woman who entered. She was a short, plump woman with a pleasant face and kind eyes. Usually. Today, her expression was solemn and her eyes were cold.
"Hello, Randall," she said cheerfully before turning to close the door.
