Isobel wasn't sure, as she watched Mary's chest rise and fall more and slowly, whether it was a good or bad thing that William's bite was taking her quickly. It was a nightmare, truly. If anything went wrong, Mary and Matthew were both damned and she had no illusions about how Evelyn Napier would handle a failure. Or how she would as well. As hard hearted as Evelyn was being, frowning darkly as he sat on the other side of the bed, Isobel had to admit she was grateful he was there. There were things that could happen, things that would be necessary, if the plan to kill poor William Mason failed in any way. "It shouldn't be long now," she said to the younger man.
Evelyn nodded. She wondered suddenly if he'd seen his brother die in a similar fashion. "Only three days… I didn't think it would be this fast. Didn't Mason linger for almost a month?"
"Everyone is different, you know that," she said after a long moment. "William… I think he was worried about leaving his father alone and his girlfriend unwed. He fought it till his last breath." She gave Evelyn a knowing look. "How many have you killed, Evelyn?"
"Thirty two," he said easily. At her raised eyebrows, he added, "I told you, we were lucky here. The Balkans are going to be a hunting ground for years. There's a darkness there…" He shuddered. "The worst is knowing that I'll never be able to walk away. England will always need to be defended."
"Nonsense." If any good is to come of this, Isobel thought suddenly, at the very least I can offer this poor man a life handed back. "You're a young man who has stared into horror alone for far too long. Don't let this duty you have taken on destroy all the chances you have to be happy. You should find yourself a bride. I dare say, there must be many women who would like to be the wife of a handsome noble man like yourself." In fact it struck her a bit odd that Evelyn wasn't married. He was handsome enough, pleasant, and had money and a title, and even better had survived the war with no obvious disfigurements.
He smiled slightly as he watched Mary slowly breathe in and out. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Crawley, that I fell in love with a woman who always seemed to find the other chap more interesting."
"Oh Evelyn," Isobel said, trying not to show how much she wanted to slap him silly, "then do yourself a favor and remember she never would have been happy with you. There is a woman out there for you. If I were a young woman who hadn't already found love, I admit, I would have found you more than worthy of attention. In fact you remind me a great of my husband." Gently she added, "I know you feel a duty, but you are allowed to step back from the darkness and have a life of your own. Thirty two is twenty two more than your own father, as I recall. You've done your part, you've earned your happiness."
"Perhaps…" Evelyn sighed. He waited a long moment. "I think she's gone."
"She is… but we'll wait a few moments before we call Matthew in. His control is masterful, but he loves her dearly and might be tempted if she isn't already gone." And she deeply feared the consequences if Mary had anything close to Matthew's control.
Evelyn gestured towards the closed door that led to the rest of the small cottage. "Why do you suppose he's different? Three years is a very long time to hold off. You've let him read your husband's journals."
"Not all of them," she snapped. "He never knew… until he rose, what Reginald and I used to do. We made the decision to leave the hunting circles, we never wanted Matthew involved."
"You're not a fool, Mrs. Crawley." Evelyn's eyes seemed to bore holes into her. "You know that if this doesn't work, that I will need to settle this. I don't say that to be cruel/ I just want it understood between us that I can't allow a vampire to live. This… technique may save Mary, that's why I am willing to try it. But… we both know how unlikely it is to save Matthew."
And how to respond to that, Isobel thought. She could hardly fault Evelyn. She had the same disturbing thoughts about Matthew. "Evelyn… I can't and won't fault you if my worst fears are realized. But… I ask you, I even beg you, to give Matthew a chance. I'm not asking you to risk your life, I'm asking you to allow for the possibility that killing William will free both Mary and Matthew."
After a long moment Evelyn nodded. "I liked Matthew when he was alive. I'm willing to give him a chance. But… I'm not willing to die for someone already dead and if this doesn't save him, I can't ignore the cancer he represents."
"If it comes to that," Isobel said, hating herself for voicing the thought, "I won't hold it against you, but you must give him a chance." It worried her. Evelyn had always struck her as an honorable man but she sensed a certain rigidity in him. She had no doubt that he wouldn't have any regret over killing a vampire.
He seemed to sense her fear. "I swear, before God, Mrs. Crawley, I will give Matthew a chance. For what it's worth, in this half-life he's been living these last three years, I do think he's kept his soul intact. If killing William doesn't cure him, at least… At least he'll be set free of this horror. I don't… I don't know if you can see how miserable he is."
"I do Evelyn." Isobel stood up and looked down at her now dead daughter in law. "If that… becomes necessary… I won't thank you. I can't. He's my son. But I can and do thank you for removing the task from my shoulders. I don't believe I could manage it. In fact I'm sure I couldn't." She was sure of that, made worse in that her unrealistic hope had led to her son's misery and her daughter in law being trapped in the nightmare.
And Mary needed to be dealt with.
0o0o0o0
Once she rises, Matthew thought with no small amount of amusement, she'll be so annoyed to find herself in the barn. It was so strange, being able to touch her without the blood thirst rising. He had carried her still form to the barn for a very specific reason. The stone cottage was isolated, and so was the barn, and if for some reason he wasn't able to control Mary, his mother and Evelyn would be safe in the house. And being in the barn meant he could pen the sheep up and make it easy for her.
What he really worried about was the possibility that Mary would find the gifts that came with the curse to be too enticing. He could admit, as the time dragged on and the blood lust dimmed to controllable levels, that there was some pleasure to be had in being incredibly strong and fast, in never feeling pain or needing sleep, in mesmerizing someone, or being able to run across a field in a flash and take down a stag with his bare hands. He could even admit the pleasure of drinking blood and seeing his skin sparkle in sunlight. But that pleasure was strongly tempered by the grinding loneliness of his existence and watching George grow older with no father, and watching Mary establish her own, separate life. Soon enough, if Mary had never gotten curious about her mother in law's basement, he wouldn't have been able to bear it much longer.
Mary wasn't him. They had much different temperaments, she ran hot while he had always been more calm and thoughtful. In her own way, she had already grappled with aching loneliness and despair. She had buried her husband, grieved deeply, and then moved on. She had always been waiting for her real life to begin, because she was required to have a husband in order to be anything other than an ornament. She had just been starting when he had died. She was likely to find the power enticing, that and the freedom to do as she pleased. She also tended to make decisions based on emotions and he knew from experience that the first taste of blood led to a riot of emotions. His mother was the bravest woman he knew, or would ever know, because she had risked her life to slap his face and turn his deadly intentions from her to the dog she'd brought for him to feed on.
Mary wouldn't be facing a live human being within arm's length but she would be able to smell the two tasty morsels in the cottage and his job was to turn her attention to the penned up sheep. This won't be an argument you lose, Matthew promised himself. Mary couldn't be allowed to harm a human being. It had taken her several days to die, and another to rise. He had to get her thirst sated and get her secured before he and Evelyn kept the appointment with William. Mary would be too new to the hunt to be trusted. The meeting with William was the next evening and he didn't intend to bring Mary to it. He had been an easily distracted mess until he had gotten control of the thirst. He and Evelyn had already agreed that Mary wouldn't be involved. It was too risky, with her turned, she was too unpredictable. Especially since the battle was going to end with just Evelyn left alive.
He shook off his dark thoughts as Mary slowly began to stir from the mound of hay that he laid her body upon. At least it's not a grave, he reminded himself as her eyes fluttered. He didn't have nightmares, because he didn't sleep as a vampire, but the memory of being in the casket and digging his way out of the grave still made him shake, especially coupled with the insane hunger and overwhelming terror that something was horribly wrong. Mary could be saved, and that meant minimizing the awfulness.
Her eyes opened and sat up, her expression puzzled. She looked down at herself and then at him. "Why… why am I in the barn? In my robe and bedclothes..." She cocked her head. Then she smiled. "I am in the barn and I can hear your mother and Evelyn discussing how… how I died and how you're waiting for me to rise."
He reached out and helped her to her feet. She gripped his hands with new strength. She's not, he noted, feeling some reassurance about his plan, as strong as I am. He hoped Isobel and Evelyn continued to respect his stern warning to not discuss the plan to contain Mary out loud. She certainly could hear as well as he could.
"I told you," he murmured, keeping his voice low so she wouldn't recoil. It took him weeks to adapt to the sensory overload, he hoped it was easier for her, and that she wouldn't have to bear it for long. "Everything is louder, and brighter. Everything feels more intense… Everything smells more intense…"
She sniffed the air, clearly shocked by how enhanced the sense was, how enticing certain scents were. She looked over his shoulder, at the nervously shuffling penned in sheep, and then licked her lips. Then she looked at him, clearly startled. "I'm so… hungry… is this what you've gone through, what you've felt every time I was close?"
"Yes, but worse." A hundred times worse, and she would know soon enough because Evelyn and Isobel, and any human that wandered by, smelled far more enticing. As he had the thought, he saw that she did as well, and was lost, trembling with confusion as her new instincts told her where the best feast was. Best to get it over with, he decided. "The sheep, Mary. They're for you."
She cocked her head, as if amused. "Such a thoughtful gift… But how? And…" Then she licked her lips again, and took an unnatural, incredibly fast leap towards the penned animals. He watched only for a moment, to make she had one in hand before he turned his head to give her some privacy. The terrified animal squalling and the delighted slurping told the tale.
Made worse that despite his own earlier meal, he felt the stirring of hunger himself. He didn't act on it. Mary needed a guide, and he wasn't close to desperate and the hunting was easy. Even if Mary fed on all the penned in sheep, there was still a generous herd in the nearby field. And she wasn't going to feed on all of them, he could already hear her slowing down. He made no effort to stop her, the initial thirst was maddening, and it was better for his purposes to let her feast until sated and gorged. He turned back around as she dropped the body of her sixth sheep. She wiped her mouth, the fangs retracting, blood dripping from her mouth on to her robe and night clothes. She shook her head, as if shaking off her fears, her eyes meeting his. "I think… I'm done. For now."
"There's plenty for later," although his plan guaranteed she would suffer the thirst. He gestured to the bucket of water, washing things, and fresh clothes he had stationed in the barn. "You might want to freshen up, before I take you back to the cottage." He took her hand intentionally, and prayed his mother's journal entries about her time as a freshly turned female vampire weren't an exaggeration or fantasy.
Matthew could see that Mary noticed the difference, she hesitated to let go, and he found it difficult as well. He felt a different stirring, as she cleaned away the worst of the blood. Use that, he told himself, that was the plan. "Look," he said brightly as he let his hand fall on her bare shoulder, "we can touch again. I won't kill you."
She gripped his hand and pulled him close. "We can touch, can't we? My husband is free to touch me, to ravish me like a pirate demanding a fresh wench at the alehouse…" She smirked at him, her expression suddenly lascivious. "Perhaps… perhaps your mother and poor Evelyn can wait a few more minutes….? So that you and I can perhaps… reacquainted?" Her arm was suddenly bathed in sunlight from one of the barn windows and the sparkling glow seemed to captivate her. She laughed at the dancing sparkles, her eyes lighting up. Then she pulled him close. "I have a wonderful idea, Matthew! Let's leave this disgusting barn and go out to the meadow and… Be as one! Like on our honeymoon! Doesn't that sound lovely?"
Oh my dear Mary, Matthew thought sadly as he smiled at her shining face, you're displaying all the worst traits of female vampires. You're as scattered as a five year old with too much candy and you're blithely suggesting something that in normal times would make you blush. Which means I will easily trick you into letting me chain you up in the bedroom because you'll think it's exciting and you're so addled you won't even realize what I am up to. Best of all when this is over with, you'll never take me to task because you'll be too embarrassed, once you're cured, to ever mention it since the tale will start with how you suggested we fornicate in a field.
He didn't win often, or so thoroughly, so he did take a moment to relish it as she led him to the meadow, merrily dropping her garments as she undressed. There was only one thing he worried about. Don't be looking out the window, he mentally thought to his mother, and I will never mention how your journal entries about your wanton lust for Father while in this state were what gave me this idea to distract Mary.
