A/N:
shadowinRW: Excellent idea on the bets bit.
Any takers on who's gonna kill Giles first?
"Life's a game where they're bound to beat you/ And time's a trick they can turn to cheat you/ And we only waste it anyway and that's the hell of it."
-"The Hell of It," by Paul Williams (Phantom of the Paradise)
"Yes?"
Giles quickly scanned the woman that had answered the door. Not very tall—perhaps five foot three—thick black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, pale lips. Good figure. "Are you Allison Destra?"
She smiled, revealing very white teeth. "Why don't you come in, Giles." It wasn't a suggestion.
He gnawed his lip in annoyance. "Well? Are you Allison, or not?"
"Come inside." This time, there was no doubt it was an order. The smile never left her face…though, there was something a trifle disturbing about those dark eyes. "Please."
Giles felt oddly compelled to listen. He stepped in, removing his hat as he went. The place wasn't at all what he expected for a person of Allie's wealth; the door led right into the kitchen, where it appeared they also dined. There was a hallway to the left (presumably leading to the parlor) and two doors leading away from the kitchen/dining room.
"Please. Sit." Still, the charming smile, the courteous voice. As pretty as she was, Giles felt a bit unnerved.
He did as she told him. "And you would be?"
She sat down gracefully across from him. "Since you asked so politely…Michelle. Michelle Noirmort—while I'm at it, why don't I introduce you to the family? Follow me to the parlor."
Feeling slightly dizzy, he followed her. In the parlor (furnished with at least some taste) there were three other people, seated at various points: an older man and woman, and what looked to be Michelle's twin.
Voicing his thoughts she gestured to her casually. "My twin sister, Jacqueline. And, my dear parents, Claude and Monique. You've met my little brother."
"Brother?" Giles echoed dumbly, scanning the room. "I don't--"
"He's back at home," Michelle's mother, Monique, told him. She had a pleasant face, and cold eyes. "Certainly, you recall meeting my youngest child, Gabriel."
Jacqueline rolled her eyes. "Mother, anyone meeting Gabriel would remember it. Take a seat, handsome." She edged over and gestured for him to sit next to her. Giles stood rooted to his spot, staring rather impolitely at each of them in turn.
"That…he…Gabriel is your son?" he said at last.
"Well, he's not out daughter," Claude answered easily. "Sit down, boy." He grinned pleasantly and flicked his hand. At the same instant, Giles fell onto the couch, in between the twins. "Good boy. You came here looking for little Allison, didn't you?"
Giles nodded mutely. It was of course impossible that this man across from him could be Gabriel's father. For one, he was human. And he was much too young—Gabriel (though he had no idea how creatures like him aged) seemed to be older than Giles himself, and there was not one grey hair on Claude or Monique. And the twins! they couldn't be a day over eighteen!
"Good luck," Jacqueline snorted. "She's fallen for that Kal-character. Bad luck for you, Giles—Kal'd much rather kill you than look at you. If you ever were to meet him."
"But!" Monique added, "You might find them at Allison's castle. I heard they were there—isn't that right, dear?" She nudged her husband, and he nodded in agreement.
"Why don't we give you directions?" Claude offered. "Afterwards…we'll compensate for you having to come all the way out here."
"All the riches you could imagine," Michelle spoke up, leaning towards him with her dark eyes opened wide. "But only if..."
"…you stay away from our little brother," Jacqueline finished. "Now, that won't be too hard….would it?"
"Of…of course not," Giles stammered, swallowing.
"Excellent! Father, draw the boy a map."
Giles sat complacently between the twins as Claude sketched out a simple map on a piece of parchment that appeared to have appeared out of nowhere, as did the pen and ink-well.
He wouldn't realize what exactly had happened until he had arrived at Allie's mansion the next day.
"Gabriel? Gabriel, are you listening?"
He snapped his head up sharply enough that it drove a spike of pain deep into his neck. "Hmm?" He had been staring into the small fire that they had started in his room. He hadn't meant to drift off; it had just…happened. "Ah…what wee you saying, ange?"
"We said that the seals we put on that room will probably keep Jason in," Allie replied for her. "Unless he finds a way to break them, which isn't very likely."
Gabriel nodded. "Ah. I see. Makes sense." His head felt muddled, as If he had woken up for a nap. "Continue."
"That was all," Elizabeth told him.
Kal stood up, his spin crackling noisily. "Like we were saying, there's not much we can do until he wakes up—and when he does, we'll know. Princess?"
Allie slid off the bed. "See you in the morning."
"Morning?" Gabriel echoed. "How--" He glanced at the clock in the far corner. It read well past ten o'clock. "Goodnight," he finished hastily.
Elizabeth lingered for a moment after they left. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked. "You look a little…dazed."
He shrugged. He had gotten plenty of sleep the night before (anything around six hours was fine for him)—it made no sense he would be so sleepy now. "Just tired, I guess. Actually, I feel a little…queasy," he admitted. It was odd—for the first time since he was human, he felt almost hungry.
"You'd better get some rest---knowing our luck, Jason will probably wake us all up at some ungodly hour." She kissed him goodnight and seemed to hesitate before leaving.
"What is it?"
She blinked hard, and then smiled. "Oh, it was nothing. I just thought I saw…but it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, I'm sure. I'll see you in the morning."
Gabriel sat puzzled on the bed for a moment. There was still the tiny mirror he'd found lying on his desk. Hesitantly, he crossed the room and held it up to his face. For a second, there seemed to be a little brown in his irises, but it was gone so quick he could have been imagining it.
Just my eyes playing tricks on me.
Despite having felt exhausted moments before, he found himself unable to fall asleep once he lay down in bed. Without bothering to put his shirt and shoes back on—what did it matter if it was indecent, everyone else was in their rooms—he left for the music room. He hadn't been in there for a while, and it was comforting when he sat down at the piano bench—comforting to him in the same way an old blanket was to a child. He flipped through some of his old music scores that were in a careless pile on top of the pile on the piano, and his jaw nearly dropped.
"Was I really that depressed?" he muttered to himself, scanning the notes in disbelief. "Dear Lord." With something akin to amusement, he replaced the stack of paper and found some fresh sheets (if somewhat crumpled) and an old, much gnawed on pen. Almost hesitantly, he played a few notes, and grinned.
Let's see if I can write something a bit more cheerful…something for our wedding, perhaps?
He lost track of time, as he usually did when he was really focused on something, and before he knew it, wakefulness turned into doziness, and in a few moments, he slid off the bench and was fast asleep. A few minutes later, he really wished he hadn't.
"Hello, Gabriel." Monique smiled in the same lovely, elegant way she always had—just like he was in a child. It still seemed to stop before it reached her eyes.
"Mother." He bowed curtly, as he had been taught.
She was leaning against the wall—outside of Elizabeth's room, Gabriel now saw. All at once, he felt ill. He wanted to run past her and through the door, but at the same time thought it would be a very good idea just to stay where he was.
"Silly boy," she sighed after a moment. "Planning on marrying a farmer's daughter? A peasent?" Monique regarded him with fake sorrow plastered on her still flawless face. "Why would you betray the family lineage like that? As the heir to the family--"
"You excluded me from the family long ago," he told her harshly. "You left and left me to insanity. Don't go on about my family duties. I'd rather set myself on fire than be apart the family. You—and Father and my sisters—are more monsters that I."
The grin returned. "Is that so, Gabriel? Then why are you the one with blood all over your hands?"
He stared in horror, for the first time realizing that his hands were matted with blood—as he watched, a drop gathered at the end of one of his fingers and fell to the carpet.
He ran past her and into the room. Elizabeth lay on her bed, the pale blue sheets now soaked with blood. As he got closer, it seemed her eyes were staring accusingly at him. Her throat had been brutally torn open, as if by…
"No!" he shouted. He whirled around, and now his father and sisters stood by Monique.
"You were always as bloodthirsty as us," Michelle chuckled.
"My heir," Claude taunted him.
"You were born a Noirmort…" Monique started.
"…and now you'll never marry a lowlife like her," Jacqueline finished. "Silly monster. You killed her yourself."
Gabriel became gradually aware of two things: that his arm was in pain and that he was screaming. The former was because he had bitten his forearm to muffle the sound of his screams. Blood splattered to the floor as he got unsteadily to his feet and lurched out the door. Panicked, he managed the peculiar act of falling up the stairs, cracking his head off of one of the steps. Shaking his head, he sprinted the rest to the way to Elizabeth's room, nearly falling over his own feet more than once.
He fumbled for the doorknob, knowing what he'd find behind the door, knowing he'd find her dead, killed by his own hands, but rushing into the room anyway.
Elizabeth was asleep on her side, curled up in a ball. She had kicked the covers off, and they lay in a knot at the foot of the bed. Her neck was smooth, and the front of her nightgown wasn't stained by blood. Feeling sick with relief, he clamped his hand down on his wound to stop the blood. He must have done something to wake her, because she cracked her eyes open.
"Ga'riel? 'Smatter? Morning already?" she mumbled.
"No, ange—go back to sleep."
Her eyes opened a bit more. "You're crying."
"I'm fine. Just go back to sleep." He let go of his forearm a minute to cover her back up. "It's not quite morning."
"Alright." She yawned and pulled the covers over her head. Judging by her breathing, she fell asleep a moment later.
Gabriel stood still for a moment, getting himself a bit more under control. After he felt (somewhat) sane, her bent down and pulled out the little box Elizabeth kept all the materials she used for dressing wounds: bandages, fine needles, strong thread, scissors, and other odds and ends. It came in handy, even if they weren't targeted by demons with murderous intentions. Having a courtyard full of roses came with its downs.
By the time he made it back to his room, the bleeding had mostly stopped. All the better: he'd never tried to stitch before in his life, wounds or clothes. He wrapped his arm loosely enough so it wasn't too uncomfortable—it would be scabbed over by tomorrow, anyways.
Please, no more dreams, he thought, falling onto his bed in a heap and scarring Rose away.
If he dreamed at all during the night, when he awoke, he didn't remember it.
Jason gained consciousness around the time Gabriel fell back asleep. At first, he felt the panic most people did at waking up in a strange place with no memory of how they got there—in short, he was scared out of his wits for a minute. Then he remember the girl—the one with the curly hair. She had knocked him out somehow.
The confusion from then caught up with him. Allison and Kalendrakk! Absurd! What kind of tricks is my mind playing on me? Perhaps I'm still unconscious from my fall… As he sat up in the guest bed, a sharp spike of pain in his forehead told him otherwise. Wench gave me a headache while she was at it! Or, if I really am dreaming all of this…maybe I just turned over in my sleep.
Real or not, the room he was in at the moment was actually quite nice, a room he would have picked out for himself. It was a tad dusty, yes, but the furnishings were rich and tasteful, and the colors were dark reds and browns and golds, with a little black. There were a few dusty, aged logs arranged in the fireplace, and he lit them with an absent flick of his wrist. They caught like newspaper.
Wringing his spindly hands together in hopes to warm them up, he slid off the bed and slowly walked the length of the room, sitting down in front of the fireplace and holding his hands out after seeing there were no clocks. As he did, he closed his eyes briefly. Around….one? No, closer to two. Let's say a quartet to. Sounds right. Jason sat back in the comfortable armchair, feeling better now he was warm. "I think I've overstayed my welcome," he announced to the fire, and stood, ready to teleport back to his home. In a moment, he would be…
…right were he was, standing in front of the fireplace.
"What?" He tried again, willing himself back.
Nothing happened.
"Ah, damn!" He slammed his fists down on the stone mantle, leaving small indentations. Dust filled the air, making him sneeze convulsively. "Curse it all!"
Now that he knew something was wrong, he could sense the wards placed on the door and on the outside of the balcony doors.
"Damn children," he muttered, and began pacing.
Pacing was always good when you wanted to blow off a little steam. Also, it looked very intimidating.
Michelle sat on the roof of Allie and Kal's humble home, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. It was late, and she couldn't sleep. At least the sky had cleared enough for her to watch the stars. She had tried counting them, but it was much to difficult—near impossible, as a mater of fact. Once you started, you'd realize you had forgotten this one tiny star, and then you'd notice another, right back next to the first one, and you'd count others over again before realizing what you were doing.
C'est impossible, she though to herself. Nonetheless, they were quite pretty.
There was a rattle as Jacqueline climbed up a flower trellis (barren of any flowers…it was seemed the Princess, while a great sorceress, lacked the skill to keep plants alive) and sat next to her, puffing slightly from her climb. "Mother said that we have to leave next week, at the latest."
"A shame," Michelle answered. "I'm enjoying Paris. Beautiful city, isn't it?"
Jacqueline smiled in agreement. "It is—and has so many shops, too!—but we really have to get started, if it's going to work."
"Of course."
"Also!" Jacqueline exclaimed suddenly, nearly startling Michelle into falling, "Father said he found that whip of yours. He mentioned that we might need it soon."
Michelle nodded. "Of course," she repeated. "Did he say…how soon?"
Jacqueline shrugged. "No, but who can say? It all depends on of this works out right. I hope it does—it's gotten a little boring, in my opinion." She stood carefully, dusted off her skirts, and got her feet over the roof's edge and back onto the trellis. "Coming in, Michelle? You'll catch cold if you stay up much longer."
"Good point." Michelle waited for Jacqueline's feet to touch the ground, and started don herself. As she followed her twin inside, she found herself wondering about her younger brother.
As long as he does as hoped, she thought, then it will all go smoothly. Her thoughts jumped to Giles, the handsome young man that they had manipulated so easily.
He's in for a nice surprise
Sorry again about the late-ness! In case you're wondering about the little statements about 'it' from the Noirtmorts…
…well, you'll just have to wait.
