Chapter Ten – Bloodstains
Hearing the sound of gunshots coming from the closed door behind him Luke glared at the prone form of the bodyguard at his feet. "Looks like Nikky started the party without me," he muttered giving the unconscious form another kick for good measure. "Let's just hope the bullets wound up in the right Cassadine," he added as he turned toward the parlor door. Luke winced as he heard his own words and realized that he had just implied there could be a right Cassadine.
Preparing for the worst Luke re-checked the clip in his pistol before pushing open the door. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Helena was not the Cassadine who'd been left standing. In fact, neither of the Cassadines were standing; Nikolas was kneeling over his grandmother's body.
"Bit late for second thoughts," Luke commented as he watched the younger man check Helena's pulse.
"No second thoughts." Nikolas looked up at Luke from his position on the floor. "I'm just not taking any chances this time; I wanted to feel the moment when her heart stopped beating, make sure that no one would be able to revive her after we've left." Helena had been presumed dead or been on the brink of death too many times for Nikolas to trust what his eyes were telling him. Yes, he'd shot Helena, he'd seen the bullets enter her body and he'd watched her fall, but then not so long very long ago he had watched her fall off of a cliff into the water only to reappear months later after he had already been convicted of her murder. His own father had been pronounced dead at General Hospital only to be resurrected after years of cryogenic sleep. This time Nikolas would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was dead and that she was staying that way. So he waited there by her side for her breathing and her heartbeat to stop.
"I never figured Helena for actually having a heart," Luke pointed out as he watched Nikolas watch his grandmother.
"No, I suppose not," Nikolas agreed as he thought back over all of the things she had done, all of the lives that she had ruined – his own among them despite her constant proclamations of devotion. "But whatever it was that pumped the blood through her veins is doing so no longer." Satisfied that the job was truly done, Nikolas rose to his feet wiping his damp hands on the legs of his pants.
Observing the bloody trails that his action left behind Nikolas brought his hands up to eye level. "I have blood on my hands," the observation sounded curiously detached to Nikolas's ears. He would have expected more . . . some greater reaction from within himself on being confronted by so visible a symbol of his crime.
"Not just your hands," Luke answered knowingly. His first kill had a way of staining a man's soul long after any physical traces were gone. There was no coming back from an act like this.
Pulling together his scattered wits Nikolas brushed off Luke's response – he had not expected to come away from this unscathed and let his hands fall to his sides. Retrieving the gun from where he had dropped it and stowing it in his pocket he turning to Luke. "I'm sure there are things that need to be said. You've been fighting this war since before I was born." He moved towards the door. "I will leave you to your goodbyes."
Luke watched Nikolas go, shaking his head at the eerie calm that seemed to have enveloped the boy since before they even left Port Charles. Luke was caught by surprise when Nikolas paused just before leaving the room, he didn't turn around but Luke was still able to hear the quiet voice clearly.
"Thank you," Nikolas said simply. "Thank you for helping me to finish this." He didn't wait for a response, just stepped over the body of the unconscious guard and walked out into the hallway without looking back.
Shaking his head, Luke turned his attention to Helena. "That one's got a few screws loose," he commented as he crouched down beside the body, carefully keeping his feet just beyond the path of the pooling bloodstain that spread out from beneath Helena's torso. "But I guess he managed to get one thing right." Luke rocked back on his heels and smirked into Helena's staring eyes. "This is a good look for you, Hells. It's one I've been wanting to see for a long time. 'Course, I always figured I'd be the one to finally bring this look into your eyes."
"Fitting I guess that after all these years it was your precious prince who finally brought you to this. I honestly didn't think that Nikky-boy had the stomach for it. Oh he was motivated all right – your taking the kid, leaving the girl for dead, well that pushed all of his buttons, pissed him off but good. But I didn't figure he'd be able to take it this far. Thought he'd get here and decide that taking back the kid was enough, con himself into believing that the fact you were his blood ought to make some kind of a difference. That's why I came along you know, figured somebody ought to be here who was willing to get his hands dirty. Guess I was wrong about him, guess you bring out the worst in people, or maybe it's the best. It's been a long time coming, but you finally got what you deserved."
Luke leaned closer pressing a kiss to Helena's rapidly cooling cheek. "I'll see you in Hell, darlin'. I'm sure you'll be keeping the place warm for me. Until then wish I could say you'd be missed, but I'd be lying."
The nursery door opening without warning for the second time that night caused the young nanny to start out of her chair one hand pressed to her chest in fear. When she caught sight of the Cassadine prince she had to stifle the urge to scream. Gone was the courteous but vaguely sinister presence of earlier this evening, in his place had returned a demon from hell, stained with blood and smelling of gun-powder. Nikolas Cassadine reeked of darkness and barely leashed violence, bringing to mind the horror stories other household servants had told of his father and grandfather.
"It's good that you're still here," Nikolas's neutral voice didn't betray his surprise that she had made no attempt to flee in spite of his warnings; Helena's minions were usually more steadfast than that. "But you should go now. Go on to bed; Yanni will have instructions for you in the morning."
Mara hesitated for just a moment, her gaze wavering between the door, where she longed to flee, and the crib where her charge lay sleeping. Mustering all of her courage Mara stepped forward to raise a tentative objection. "I would prefer to stay with him," she said softly stepping towards the crib.
Nikolas's malevolent glare, however, quickly sent her tripping backwards and she watched in trepidation as he approached the crib. "Go," he repeated turning to look at her from his position beside the sleeping child. "I wish to be alone with my son."
Fearing more for her own life than for the safety of her charge, Mara fled the nursery without a backward glance. The stories she told the next morning would go along way towards ensuring the silence of the household. Servants who remembered Nikolas only as a child would be told that he had grown into the Cassadine mold and was not to be challenged.
When the door closed behind her Nikolas turned at last to the baby.
Who would bind us the way you bind us now? Only you have the compassion and the grace, the intelligence and the training.
"The bright young hope of the Cassadines." Nikolas looked down at his son with tired eyes. "That's what my uncle called me. I was supposed to be the one to lead the family in a new direction, to lead with grace and compassion, to bring us into the modern world. But now there is blood on my hands, family blood, my grandmother's blood, and I don't know whether Stefan would be disappointed or proud."
From the moment he had heard his grandmother's name on Courtney's lips Nikolas had gone cold. He had known what he had to do, but he hadn't allowed himself to think beyond this moment, beyond Helena's death. "I'm not proud of what I did," he told his son. "And I took no pleasure in her death. I did what was necessary." How often had Nikolas heard that word on Stefan's lips?
I did only what was necessary to keep you safe, Stefan had said after each of the acts Nikolas had believed he would not be able to forgive. For the first time in his life Nikolas was truly able to understand what had driven his uncle to such depths.
"I did only what was necessary to keep you safe," Nikolas repeated his uncle's words to the sleeping child and he knew that he wasn't offering a justification or an excuse, merely the truth, a truth he hoped that his son would never have to understand.
"Pain, violence, blood and death – that is the legacy the Cassadine family passed down to me. And despite Stefan's best efforts I have been unable to escape it. You will have to be our hope now."
"I'm sorry to lay so heavy a burden on you, my son. But I can promise that I will be there to help you shoulder it. You will have all of the love and support that I and," Nikolas stumbled slightly on the words, "and your mother can give you."
Ignoring the blood that still stained his hands, Nikolas scooped up his infant son at last. "We're going home," he said simply.