Part one: Behind Closed Doors
Chapter 9: Anything
Alucard
Beth says: You will enjoy XD
Pip beamed at us over Seras' shoulder as she sobbed with relief into his neck. "How do you feel, Captain?" Molly asked stoicly, Pip's face slightly fell at the formality, the distance, but answered with his usual candid contentedness, "Nevair better, I feel like a million dollairs. Zank you, Miss Molly, for saving my arse back zere."
"It was no problem, I am sure you would have done the same for me, had you been in my position." Seras climbed onto the bed and kissed the Captain feverishly. "I can see we are not needed here," Molly put the top-hat back on her head at its usual slanted angle and walked with me to the door, the chip at the back of her neck visibly flashing beneath the veil of red hair.
She made no move to talk to me, as she seemed to have become accustomed to doing in the last few days; she busied herself about the kitchen, opening a cupboard beside the large refrigerator to reveal a large basket full to bursting with boxes. She hefted it out from inside the cabinet and sat up at the breakfast bar, taking out the boxes and lining them up.
Walter had brought for her box after box of fruit and vegetable seeds, she had told him that it didn't matter whether they were in season or not, with the right "miracle grow" they would grow as she wished. Next she pulled out crystals and other large colourful gems: jasper, rose quarts, and crystals and set them beside the boxes of seeds. Molly then skirted around the island and opened the cutlery drawer, laying her hand immediately on the sharpest knife and setting it beside all the boxes. I watched silently as she collected a chopping board, a jar and popped outside to fetch a large petrol can.
"Is this your special miracle grow then, Molly?" She didn't answer, just as I knew she wouldn't, especially not after the first part of her punishment, which had been more playful than anything else. I had ordered that, for the whole day, she would only be allowed to crawl; she had put up a fuss, obviously, but I could have chosen something far more painful. Or perhaps she would have preferred if I had chosen to do something painful?
She held her hand over the jar and swiftly sliced the knife across her palm and let the blood trickle into the jar, the black liquid glistening in the light as the violet tendrils within swirled and beckoned to me, the scent pungent in the sterile air of the kitchen. Her hand healed and once again she slashed, more blood trickled in, until the bottom was filled about three inches up. She made to wash her hands, she paused, "I suppose you'll be wanting some, my friend?" She turned around, stumbling into me as I moved swiftly for the small gift. I caught her wrist in my hand, trailing my thumb over her pulse for a moment, gazing at the black liquid as it shone beautifully beneath the dim light thrown by sconces.
I ran my tongue over her index finger, picking up the slight scent of a floral perfume at her wrist, lilies if I wasn't mistaken, and slowly ran my tongue up and down her skin, kissing her fingertips of the blood and finally moving to her palm where I lapped up the blood, our gazes locked onto each others as I continued, her pupils dilated slightly, the pulse ringing out clearly to me, calling out for me to take the sumptuous blood that flowed through it.
"Why haven't you been talking to me, Molly? Was your penance so terrible?" I asked, layering on the thick tone of hypnosis, which she seemed susceptible to when her mind was elsewhere—which it rarely was.
Molly's eyes dilated further and her voice became light, "Because I do not want you to know…" She blinked, roughly pulling her hand away from just as I scraped my fangs over her palm for more blood, the blood so much more potent and delicious now that she had given it willingly.
"Want me to know what?"
"…what an arse you are," She replied huffily, turning back to the jar and taking it over to the sink where she ruined the wine within by diluting it with water and setting the jar back on the counter, the slight chink against the marble echoing thorughout the silent chamber. She dispersed into a cloud of sand, the French doors blew open and she disappeared, reappearing with her blue overcoat swirling around her ankles and top hat neatly propped on her head at a jaunty angle, a large crow held in her hand, the neck and head twisted at an odd angle.
She rested the corpse on the chopping board as she turned on the gas hobs and poured half an inch of water in the bottom of a saucepan, waiting for it to boil before proceeding to cut the crow up, dropping the organs in without a moments hesitation, shortly followed by the feet. I watched in silent intrigue as she started to hum to herself, slowly forgetting I stood behind or beside her, and slowly building her weak humming up into a medieval hymn, her voice swooning and calming:
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
As I lay on Yolis nyght,
Alone in my longging,
Me thought I saw a wel fayre syght
A may hir child rokking.
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
A lullaby, beautiful and calming, had I been tense or angered I would have felt calm almost immediately.
She stopping singing, stirring the mushy liquid in the pan and began to whisper some kind of enchantment over it in something that seemed to be French, but seemed not to be. She sprinkled a herb into the thick liquid and poured the jar of murky water in with the rest, stirring it slowly as she began to sing again.
Lullay, Lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder sing lullay.
"Sing now, moder," seide the child,
"Wat schal to me befalle
Hereafter wan I cum til eld --
For so done modres alle."
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
"Swete sone," seyde sche,
"Weroffe shuld I singge?
Ne wist I nevere yet more of the
But Gabrieles gretingge.
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
He grette me godli on his kne,
And seyde: "Hail Marie,
Hail ful of grace, God is with the.
Thou beren shalt Messye."
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
Ther as he syde, I the bar.
On midewynter nyght,
In maydenhed, withouten care,
Be grace of God Almyght."
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
Serteynly this syght I saw,
This song I herde singg.
Als I me lay, this Yolis day,
Alone in my longing.
Lullay, lullay, lay, lay, lullay
Mi dere moder, sing lullay.
The liquid bubbled angrily and Molly turned off the heat, pouring the strange brew into the petrol can, the top still steaming slightly. She piled the boxes back into the basket and rested it at the crook of one arm while taking the can in her free hand; she slipped through the French doors, still humming to herself, her feet audible on the steps going down into the gardens.
I followed her into the still darkness, the rosebushes reaching out to us as we meandered around them, the flowers glistening with a silvery film of dew beneath the grin of the moon, the colours dulled by the lack of light but still as beautiful at the height of spring.
A large plot had been cleared at the end of the garden, split in the middle by the wide path that led to the practise field, the space around ten feet by twelve feet, at a guess, the second plot being slightly larger. Molly set her belongings down and pulled out gardening tools from the bottom of the basket, and began the slow and rather tedious task of sewing the seeds.
She bent down, speedily burying the various seeds in certain areas and in lines, leaving six or so inches between each variation of vegetable. "You're incredibly annoying, do you know that?" I finally broke the almost silence, Molly's humming ceased and she straightened up with her hand on her hip, the basket at the other arm.
"And where did that opinion come from?" I smiled.
"At least you're talking again."
"You are such a child!" Molly frowned and finished the last section of the plot, carefully hopping back onto the lawn and dusting her hands on the white skirt and turning her attention to the second plot. She started at the back, burying apple cores to either side of the plot and planting a row of grape vines between the two and in front of those she planted raspberry canes, ignoring the slight stabbing sensations in her fingers as she maneuvered them into their prospective holes and patted the soil around them. Now taking the can and trickling out the liquid in long lines over the soil, taking her time to spread the formula evenly and then turn to the first patch.
The moonlight hit her red hair, the cascade of red gleaming like a fountain of blood, a beautiful contrast to the pale blue overcoat and indigo top-hat which I had acquired for her. She straightened up and gave a small smile as her spinal discs clicked in swift succession, the pain somehow pleasurable to her. She wiped her hands on the white skirt again and dropped down on the lawn, her legs curling underneath her, the white skirt twisting beneath her right leg to reveal her well-built and chunky thigh adorned with small scars and a gun holster complete with the shining barrel of her favoured SW1911.
I crouched beside her, "So, how long do you reckon it will take for the crops to grow?"
"A week or so, I should hope. Last time it took a week for them to start growing, but that was in the cold winter, it is spring so they may germinate within the hour and start to produce by June."
"So optimistic, that's only three and a half weeks away." Molly smiled serenely, the sad tilt of her lopsided smile a reminder that it was not optimism but hopefulness that pushed her on, even with plants.
"About the other night, when we saw each other's memories…" Molly paused tentatively, her eyes falling to the lawn, where she plucked up blades of grass nervously, "I saw something which…that is to say I…" I frowned at her nervousness.
"What do you want to ask?"
"I want to ask whether you ever had children, the history books say you did not father any heirs but…historians are mere fanciful raconteurs when it comes to truth." She answered as she dexterously braided her hair and let it fall down her back, it swung for a brief moment.
"I don't see how that has anything to do with the present, but: no, I never did have any children." Molly nodded slowly, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, her chin rested on her knees pensively.
I regarded her silent profile earnestly, remembering the pleasing shape to her long, pointed nose, the angularness to her not-so feminine jaw accompanied by the scar that ran from it and along her throat, beckoning to me and so appealing; I wondered whether it was only I who looked at the down-turn of her lips and saw them, not as off-putting, but trustworthy, she would keep secrets, I knew, until the bitter end. I knew this from her own memories as she was toyed with like a lab rat by the orderlies at the Asylum, even after she had acquainted herself with the language, she would still not tell them a thing about herself. Not her name, not her age, nor what she was, she fought against them as they took blood samples—but this was for herself. But I still believed she would keep her word and not utter a syllable of what she had seen through my memories, if I didn't believe her she would've already been dead- as tricky as it would be to kill her.
Molly glanced at me, catching my eye she laughed nervously, "What are you looking at so intently?" I didn't answer, instead I moved in closer and caught her chin between my forefinger and thumb and turned her head towards me gently, her breath caught in her throat.
"You look quite beautiful in the moonlight." I noted quietly. Molly let her legs drop and curl beneath her again, looking at me with wide disbelieving eyes.
"Liar, I am not beautiful." She answered candidly, turning her head from me sharply.
"I believe my words were: 'You look quite beautiful,'" I chuckled. She turned back to look at me with a lopsided smile, I leant in and, once again, her breath caught in her throat and where my hand rested at her neck I felt the twitch of a steady pulse. Her lips parted and she moved in also; I caught her lips, the sweet aroma of the lily-scented perfume filled my nose, her soft hair fell from the braid's grip, brushing over my hand at her neck as I deepened the kiss and her body moved closer to mine timidly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she moved onto her knees.
I lightly brushed my fingers over her braid, the sensitivity of her back and spine so intense that she seemed to feel it even through the thick rope of red hair, her back arched beneath my fingertips and her heart began to pulse that much faster. My other hand rested at the curve of her waist, slowly easing beneath her blouse to rest comfortably on her cool, pale flesh.
Her tongue, timid though fluid, followed mine easily, her realisation that I preferred to lead, not only when we were dancing, but when we were kissing halting her from fighting for dominance. She slowed the kiss, pulling away uncertainly. "Alucard?"
"Mm?"
"Why did you do that? I thought…I thought we decided this was a bad idea," she gave me a confused and slightly exasperated look, glancing down at my suit buttons in sudden heightened interest.
"A moment of weakness, perhaps? On both our parts?" I offered, cupping her face with my hand and letting my thumb brush over her cheekbone slowly. She smiled, quickly catching my lips before whispering, "I suppose this means I am forgiven?" I chuckled.
"Almost," I answered, catching her lips again and deepening the kiss, this time more urgently, my hand slipping inside her overcoat and around to her back where I traced my fingers gently, the reaction was intriguing. It seemed to be a mixture of pain and pleasure, I suppose, much like when she stretched and her spine re-aligned; her hand, one resting at my back with the other arm still draped around my neck demurely, clenched and her body arched, her nails digging into my back as she mentally asked for more.
I dipped my hand beneath her blouse, tracing my finger up and down her lower back carefully as she kissed me back eagerly, the taste of her wonderfully memorable, a mixture of fruits and blood, her tongue silently obeying the movements of mine. I moved my mouth away from hers kissing her throat, gently biting her throat below the scar, two pin-pricks of her blood burning my tongue as I kissed her neck. "Harder," she breathed, "drink me if you like,"
"Only if you promise to behave," I chuckled into her neck, my fingers resting motionless against her spine.
Molly murmured her pleasure, her nails slowly gripping on to the duster. "I promise." She breathed rapturously. I lapped my tongue over her skin teasingly, nibbling lightly then slowly building up the force of the bite until my fangs plunged into her skin and a trickle of her blood met my mouth.
The feeling of freedom and release hit my chest at a proper mouthful of that burning liquid, my gratification of her generosity leading to my fingers tracing more lines over her spine, my nails brushing over the newly healed skin, grazing her flesh with the backs of my fingers.
I removed my hands from her body and took her hands, roughly pulling her up on her feet with me and draping her arms back around my neck as I stood slightly stooped to receive her kisses.
Molly seemed to sway slightly, running her fingers through my hair almost lovingly. We paused for Molly to catch her breath, her breathing slowing as I grazed her cheek with my knuckles and traced my fingers down her neck, over a visible section of her collarbone and back up. She brushed her lips against mine, inclining her head to my ear, "I do not think I have ever been kissed like that by any other man, Alucard."
"That's because I'm not merely a man," I chuckled in answer.
We stood together silently, Molly's small form pushed against mine, her hands resting on my chest as I gazed up at the sky; she rested her ear against my chest, once again taking solace in the silence from within.
I felt a strange sensation at the back of my mind, a stirring of emotion mixed with something else, it felt like someone needed me, but it was so distant I couldn't tell if it was Integra.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, Molly jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide like a startled animal as I flipped open the phone and looked up at the Mansion curiously. "Where are you, Alucard?"
"I'm in the garden, with Molly…"I answered to Integra's worried voice, her sigh of relief audible over the phone.
"Well, I thought I should tell you that Pip has regressed, for his and everyone's safety he was put back into a coma about thirty or so minutes ago and ten minutes ago his lungs gave in…"
A/N: I think everyone liked that chapter...especially Marie, blood-sucker, KYHime, Archsage….actually just everyone. So, in gratification of that chapter, I reckon Beth deserves a review from each of you, don't you?
Huggleberry Pie for all!(evil shadow man is hiding behind my curtains and beth is getting freaked out as it comes closer to midnight- the hour of monsters.) ARGH!!!
Oh, and how did everyone like the song? It's a 14th century carol/lullaby (Lullay, Lullay by anonymous) I stumbled upon randomly and have just fallen in love with it, I love ye olde englische langauaggge (that's how they spelt things way back when) XD