According To Plan
By Seniya
Chapter Twenty-One
If the wind could whisper, would she? Would she tell the tales of all that she knew, if only to comfort these curious human souls? Perhaps, no, yes, well I don't know. I have always imagined the winds to be all knowing, it's comforting to believe, don't you see? She has danced across skies and deserts alike, seen the summer fetes of the sunrise and the winter balls of the moon—so of course, yes, yes, if she doesn't know, then who? Who can?
No one?
There are tales, poems, stories that have been written of the woman who waits for her husband to return from war. Even more tragic are those tales, poems, stories written on the fiancée who awaits the return of her beau.
They aren't truly any different—although a love untested is far more distressing than one that has survived the torment of the years of togetherness. And then there's youth to consider as well, love is meant for the young, isn't it?
Heartbreak is meant for the old.
The taste of frustration was exceptionally sweet when compared to the flavor of heartbreak, there was no contest, in her strange, heavy, swirling mind as to which one she'd rather have coating her tongue.
Not that she could taste anyway, she could barely breathe in fact, so great were the numerous pains attacking her body—she'd based her decision not on actual sensation however, rather it had been on the knowledge that heartbroken Will was a slobbering, doltish brat…whilst irritated Will, from what her mind seemed to recall, was generally a more likeable individual.
And she needed to be levelheaded presently, with her body revolting like this, she needed to get home, to her bed—she suppressed a shiver and the subsequent wave a queasiness that followed—she would sleep this discomfort off, and decide tomorrow how she could be as detestable as possible at the wedding…hell hath no fury, after all. Wait, "Will, I don't think that you're invited…" she coughed then, pausing in the middle of the whimpering, deserted field as a second wave of nausea slipped into her stomach, one that seemed adamant to avenge his predecessor's death—and was so viscous that Will doubled over in the attempt to control it.
Her feet were ice cold—in fact, where had her shoes gone? She must have taken them off she decided, sneezing, as if to punctuate the memory that she didn't seem to have.
Beside her, the wind whispered restlessly, calling her name in a language that she didn't recognize…touching her in ways that she didn't appreciate…she tried to pull away from it's claw like embrace, but it's grip was massive, it surrounded her…she was almost there now, she could see the massive brick structure as it rose impressively from the damp bushes, and as it, yes, touched the massive twilight ceiling. She had never once noticed just how large this house was…
The winds took notice as well, deserting her small, shivering frame once the shadows of this mountainous wall roared their disapproval.
With a groan of relief, Will collapsed against the brick structure, inhaling the vague scent of copper and metal, perfumes that strangely, brought her comfort. Trembling, aching, burning as each scalding breath passed over her weather bruised lips, she dragged her body along the surface until she discovered, what felt like a…door.
Finally, this would all be over…she spun the knob hurriedly, pushing open the door with a click that echoed through the quiet halls of the house, and she stumbled inside.
He was behaving like any child would, having had their favorite toy taken away, sulking, quiet, attempting to pass off his vacant stares and occasional groans as pensiveness. Taranee had quite enough.
"And what the hell is wrong with you now?" She snapped, her hands immediately stopped what they were doing, tightening her horse's harness, they needed to get this carriage set up as soon as possible, kind of him, she thought acidly, so very kind of him to help.
"Nothing," he murmured, still avoiding her gaze at all costs, "why are you still asking me that?"
Oh I don't know, she twisted her face into a look that showed without question that she thought that he was idiotic beyond comparison. He had managed at least three minutes of enthusiasm and for that, and she supposed, given his current behavior, that he thought that she should be satisfied with it…well, like hell she was!
"Do you want to stay here?"
"No Taranee…" He was getting very tired of her constant questioning…he was doing his best, really. It wasn't his fault that his head and his…well every other part of his body seemed to be in disagreement.
"Then pull it together! You aren't concentrating, you know better than this. What the hell is wrong with you anyway? Are you sick?"
He grumbled incoherently, and she finally decided that it was best to ignore him before she shoved this saddle into his ass. She was too tired for much violence now, in any case, since he had been so completely unresponsive, she'd been the one to go off into the woods to find her horse, she'd been the one to saddle him, and she'd been the one to come up with this plan…her eyes drifted to Caleb's suddenly.
"Do you remember the plan?" In the lonely, faltering glow from the nearby lantern he met her stare, nodded his head and then went back to staring at the raised platform with a sort of wistful look on his face.
She didn't believe him.
"Remember, I'll go into the house." Taking a long soothing breath she reiterated the plan slowly, as though she were speaking to a person with a very small intellectual capability. "I'll collect the family in the carriage and I'll take them into town, while you wait here until I get the other men. When we all return, we'll all wait for Phobos to…"
"I know Taranee. I heard it the first nine times you…"
"Look, I am damned sick of your attitude…"
"Well I am damned sick of yours! I heard you all right; I understand what you want from me…"
"Fine," the lantern flickered in the wind, an open invitation for the shadows to come and feast upon their bodies. "Look, here," she reached into a pouch attached to Thor's saddle and removed a pistol. "It's yours, you can have it back…only because you'll be alone." she clicked her tongue when he took it from her, "don't hesitate to use it…he's dead or alive, it doesn't matter."
"Right."
"Good." Choosing to ignore his heavy expression, she outed the lantern and led the way outside. "Go down the path, there's a pond or lake there, as I remember…wait around there," she whispered, "don't let anyone through, except me…you'll know because of Thor."
"Right."
"Really, Caleb. Just keep your head…"
"I know." And she listened as his footsteps passed her by and faded into the night. "Men," she cursed, before turning, and heading over to the main house, frustration dissipated into the night's cool breeze, adrenaline however, was born in this night.
Inside of the house was freezing as well, Will realized that the instant she stepped through the threshold. Not to mention that the ambiance was also disobliging…the Ball seemed to be over by now…the house was plunged into darkness, the only sounds came from the outside world—howls, screams, groans…
Groans?
Even in her disillusioned state she couldn't convince herself that that had come from the outside. There was someone here—in the…kitchen, yes…she moved backwards, before colliding with a stack of cast iron pots, which fell to the ground with a ringing that moved through the house like thunder.
The groans grew louder…and slowly, the spark of recognition in her mind was fanned into a flame.
"M-Mother?" she breathed through her scratchy throat and aching lips.
"Will…I'm here, come, come to me…I can't stand."
"Are you hurt?" she forced herself to ask, and then fumbled through the darkness to find the woman when no answer came.
"No…I just…my head…"
Will found her mother huddled on the floor, her hair straining against the grip of several ribbons and her dress covered in ashes, and she bent to reach for her hand, "Will, your hands…you're freezing. What were you doing outside?"
"I-I…" the memory caused a pang of humiliation to piece her chest; she forced herself to ignore it. "I'll take you into the parlor…someone…can…" she coughed.
"No, no…go find Irma or Jeffery or Yanlin…"
Will nodded dumbly, following her mother's order as though she had no other choice in the world…she noted grimly, as she heard her mother's voice whimpering from far off in the darkness that it was entirely too conceivable that she didn't.
"Will?" She hadn't gotten far from the kitchen—rather, as she had been staggering through the narrow hallway to the parlor, she met up with Irma—or what sounded like Irma. In the colorless haze that had quickly become her surroundings, Will squinted as this figure strode over to her.
"Are…you…Will, you're as pale as a ghost! And your gown…" She felt her sister's hands touch her face, she was freezing, Will hissed at the feeling and managed to pull away.
"Mother," she mumbled, "she's in the kitchen…she needs help."
"What?" Slowly, comprehension fell atop of her pretty face, crushing her once jovial features. "What's wrong with her?" Her voice shook as she spoke…gone was the elation she had felt for forcing Cornelia to an early night…now, all she could feel now was fear—she'd never once seen Will look like this…and now their Mother…
She didn't know what to do. "Should I go get her?"
"Get Jeffery…I don't think that she can walk…"
"Will, you should go sit down," she choked out, panic was seeping through her system, she didn't like the taste of responsibility.
"All right…I'll go to the parlor." And with Irma's help she was led to a large floral settee. "Stay here…" trembling, Irma commanded, and without another word, she disappeared up the stairs.
Jeffery had gone off to his bedroom early, as she recalled…but once she reached the second landing she ran off to the opposite direction, to her own bedroom. "Emily…" she called, finding the door already half open, she pushed it in further. She'd need the girl to take care of Will…make her some tea…or something…oh, how did this happen? Everything had been going so well!
And they seemed determined on becoming much, much worse. Emily was gone. Her room was still, strangely orderly as though someone had been tidying…but she was gone.
The clock behind her chimed the hour, and Irma was sent spiraling back into the reality. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her to Jeffery's chambers, and then, finding the door locked. She pounded on his door, until…disheveled and clad in only in a very sheer night shirt that fell mid-thigh, he swung open the door.
"What in the bloody hell in the matter…"
"It's Mother." She breathed, knowing that the panic showing in each and every trembling line of her body. "s-she's sick, in the kitchen, she can't stand…"
And before the brunette could even utter a single word about Will, the man had taken off; he was halfway down the stairs before she'd noticed that he had moved…
Wonderful. Relief at her success, and slowly, yes, pride too, vanquished the initial fear and trepidation. Hah! She could be responsible when the situation demanded it. Smiling smugly to herself, and then silencing all other thoughts in her mind that tried to tell her that she had simply obeyed Will's orders…she strutted down the dimly lit corridor with a renewed sense of self importance.
She halted as she passed by Cornelia's bedroom…strange, that door was ajar as well…
Ignoring both the sense of dread and the sense of reluctance (she really didn't need to be in Cornelia's presence now), she poked her head into the doorway and forced her eyes to distinguish the many dark shapes in the room…
Finally, she found the bed, covered in shadows, tucked into silence…the empty bed.
Her stomach shifted…and she swallowed. "Cornelia?"
No answer.
The hands of fear touched her back, and covered her in a feeling that made the hair on her neck and arms stand at attention, whilst her heart thundered a strange drum roll to which they all marched to.
Oh God…
In the haunting company of the darkness…and the darkness alone, Caleb's mind was finally able to join forces with the already mutinous organs and limbs…they put him, in quite a conundrum…
He reminded himself of his mind's initial wishes as he could summon them up…she didn't want him…but she could…he reminded himself of how she had kissed him, her lips so soft, tender, curious almost, he hadn't ever forced her, she wasn't the sort of girl who could be forced…
But no! She didn't need him either…but God how he needed her. Even now as he stood here, his skin still burnt from where she had touched him, it was a pain unlike anything he had ever known, it stole his sanity, his breath, his heart…was it fair to deprive himself of her?
What would she say if he went back? If he really did tell her everything…his thoughts lingered on the scalding recollection, the rejection of earlier today, beneath the tree—but she'd come back…he couldn't stand not knowing…he owed them both that much in any case.
He was pulled away from his ponderings as the sound of a carriage rolled through the once silent night. Even in the darkness Thor could not be mistaken, his charcoal colored coat gleamed in the moonlight, his teeth were bared, and at the helm, clad in a long dark cloak, her hat pulled low over her features, was Taranee.
"That was fast," he whispered, quickly moving onto the grassy bank to avoid a collision. The carriage sped past, and he caught a glimpse of Cornelia through the small window in the side, she seemed asleep, her long blonde hair, silver in the night, fell about her face like a curtain…the carriage refused to slow, moving past him without a word, leaving naught but dust in its wake.
Well, there seemed to be a change in plan. If Will and her family were already with Taranee…then he'd be forced to remain here at least until Taranee returned with the men, then he could find her…and explain himself properly. His mind relaxed a bit, already formulating a technical solution to this problem, his heart however, remained wound up…
He was already contemplating his fate if she dared to tell him no…
"Madam, for the love of God, please speak to me!" Jeffery moaned through his tears, clearly beyond the delicate strand of reasoning that usually kept him at least relatively composed.
"I'm fine Jeffery." She smacked away the hand, before pressing her fingertips to her temples. She was propped up by all of the pillows that Jeffery could find, leaving Will, currently ignored, to gaze at the two with mounting aversion, from her vantage point she could see right up Jeffery's nightshirt…it wasn't pleasant.
"Will, what on earth happened to your gown! Your grandmother Will not be pleased…" she smiled slowly, "actually, go upstairs before the mud stains the chair, you do look a fright. Did I frighten you that much?"
Will would have shook her head if it didn't hurt her so much to move, but instead she obeyed yet again, the thought of her nice warm bed was far too good to ignore.
"Your highness, what on earth were you doing in the kitchen?" Jeffery hoisted his nightshirt up to his face to cleanse the copious amounts of mucus and tears; both mother and daughter flinched at the action.
"I-I," Susanna squinted, apparently the memory was misplaced…"I was kidnapped!" she gasped suddenly, jumping to her feet; dislodging pillows and Jeffery alike. "By the wedding woman!"
"Mother…go to bed." Will, who had lingered a while longer in order to discover the reasoning behind her mother's sickness, decided that she was indeed, better of ignorant, and started to maneuver through the stifling darkness to the stairs…her head hurt enough without her mother's dim-witted stories.
"I'm…telling the truth…she was asking me questions…about Count Phobos…and…and."
"Mother, maybe you simply imagined it all," Will sneezed, then clutched the doorframe to stop herself from reeling, "how would the wedding woman know about Phobos. And even if she did why would she care anything about…"
Interruption came with the sound of the main doors opening, Will moved towards the noise, but with both the darkness and her headache impeding her curiosity; it was hard for her to discern the cause…
"What was that!" her mother screeched, and Will sighed inwardly, if a criminal of any sort ever came into this house, Susanna's constant screaming would ensure them all a quick death…
"Goodnight." Footsteps, followed by a voice as smooth as silk, danced through the darkness.
"You!" Susanna hissed from the shadows, and by straining her watery eyes, Will could just make out her long figure gliding about the furniture as though there wasn't anything wrong with her in the first place.
"Jeffery! Attack her! She's come to finish me off! She's had a taste, and she knows that I'm good!" It's important to note that Jeffery stayed rooted to the spot.
"You may stop the theatrics both of you." Her voice remained impeccably calm, "I intend you no harm. I am here to help you as a matter of fact, and if you'll allow me, there shall be no problems among us."
Will coughed a bit, her mother continued to stare, before Jeffery finally muttered what had been running through each of their minds, "what?"
"My name is Taranee Cook, I was hired by Dublin…Constable Dublin to be perfectly correct, to investigate the murders, and to capture the murderer. This isn't very surprising, and I'm not the only one who has been in your presence. My partner, Caleb, has been impersonating your daughter's fiancé for a long while now. If we'd wanted you dead then…"
Now it was Will's turn to exhibit shock, in doing so she pressed herself harder against the steady wooden column, feeling as though her entire world had started to shake and turn… "What?" she breathed, in a voice so low that she was the only one who seemed to hear it.
"…you'd be dead."
"You've been doing what!" Susanna's reaction was far more vocal. "You little whore! You and that god damned man Dublin! Do you have any idea what you've done! Impersonating!" She continued to shriek as though the word was a particularly difficult French verb, "impersonating! You're fucking joking! Tell me that this is all a fucking joke!"
"Calm down Mrs…err…"
"I will not be calm! I'll scream my heart out if it pleases me because you and that blasted man have killed us all!"
Perhaps it was the sickness…perhaps the soothing hum of the darkness in her ears and across her eyes, Will wasn't certain, she didn't dare credit it to the last bit of knowledge that had quite frankly tugged at her already stinging heart…whatever it was, Will understood it, and accepted the fact that her mother's voice was moving further and further away, and that somewhere a lovely, comfortable voice was calling to her…
Irma stomped into the crowded parlor, eyes wide, hands shaking, sweaty and breathless…"Cornelia…" she gasped, "…Cornelia's gone…I can't find her anywhere!"
…she released the smooth column and followed that voice, falling numbly onto the carpeted floor.
"Will?" Irma called, whilst their Mother too fell to her knees, screaming a mixture of curses and prayers, directed at the ceiling…
"What's…" Taranee began to stammer, all composure lost, she allowed her mind's first reaction the coat her words; confusion. "…happening…explain this to me…"
"Mama," Irma's voice rose above hers, drowning it out entirely, it was in the form of a shrill scream caked with a far more powerful emotion; fear… "She's fainted Mama, it's the fever…you know how she gets when she's sick…"
Out of the corner of her eye Taranee watched the girl, kneeling above her sister, who was now seemingly comatose…save for the occasional shudder and twitch…
Fear seemed contagious, and there was more than enough of it in his room, she backed away, feeling cold, feeling muffled, feeling trapped, she managed to flee into the foyer before it's icy touch abandoned her…leaving the slippery arms of guilt to take its place. She tried to swallow, but found that her mouth had dried out…
She'd fucked this one…massively.
It took only a matter of minutes for the profuse number of screams, shrieks and curses to awaken the remainder of the house. Like a dam that had been ruptured, they began to trickle into the parlor, first, just a few, the Chinese lady and her granddaughter, three or so servants, followed, rapidly by nearly everyone within listening distance.
The house, which had turned in early due to the floundering festivities, now seemed entirely too lively, a buzz of conversation passed through the room, and yes, the entire situation was chilling, because even through it all, excitement lay festering beneath these words.
Soon the lights and lamps had been lit, the small red haired girl had been carried upstairs to her room in the arms of one of the cooks, and everyone had crowded about Susanna, who was now explaining the entire situation in a loud, broken voice.
"Phobos…" she was currently gasping, "he's taken my baby!"
"Emily!" Irma put in; she looked the worst of all. She was nearly as pale as the crisp white bonnet perched on her head… "Emily is missing as well."
Many of the servants faced her then, bombarding her with questions:
"What are you doin' wearin' her dress, mam?"
"I-I'd," she looked at her mother's crumpled form and bowed her curly head before muttering, "I had wanted to go to the Ball…and so I'd convinced her to give me her clothes…if I had known…"
"It was you then, the girl that we'd been gettin' all those complaints for!"
They returned to the small crowd that they had formed originally, going back to their whispering and curious, hesitant stares…
Only then did Taranee feel bold enough to re-enter the room.
"He'll kill her," the shivering woman moaned to the oriental lady who was currently holding onto one of her trembling hands. "We…" she sniffled suddenly, and beneath the tears, resolution glittered stubbornly, "…we must get her. Quickly, if she only has been taken tonight, then we can still rescue her!"
No one else seemed very eager to agree.
It was Yanlin who first shattered the silence, "Before we go trotting across the land after this man, we must first understand why he did what he did…we must plan our course of attack, because believe me, he has already planned his." She looked thoughtfully down at her raven haired friend, who nodded sharply, but didn't reply.
"Susanna…" she pressed, and slowly each and every eye in the room turned to stare at her.
"H-He…" it seemed that the force of their questioning glares penetrated the seal of secrecy that she'd placed over her lips, she lowered her eyes to her lap, "we were married very quickly…I-I was…we'd met through a friend, he and I…but he only showed an interest in me once he came to the house…for tea, you understand. Of course, of course I thought then that he must be interested in my money…"
"Whose money?" Roared Miss Vandom, clad in a massive navy robe, pipe clenched between her teeth…
"Your money…so of course, when he first proposed marriage, I refused. And besides, a woman of thirty three like myself wouldn't dare to remarry at this age—those old hags would have a jolly good time with that…"
"What does this have to do with anything! Why were screaming? Who stole whose baby! Which baby, was it Wilhelmina!" She stared at the openmouthed crowd, none of whom were willing to surrender any answer.
"N-no…it wasn't…" Haylin began, but was quickly quieted by a loud moan from Susanna.
"Yes, yes it was Wilhelmina! She's been kidnapped by a madman!" She buried her face into Yanlin's silk robe.
"What!" Upon the nearby mantle, the portraits decorating the marble seemed to shake at the magnitude of her voice.
"Why wasn't I awakened at once?" There was a collective swallow, and of course an undisturbed silence, people had actually begun to shy away from the woman, Taranee included.
"We…we wanted to plan our course of attack first…and of course, we needed to be certain…"
"There is no time to waste. She is the heir to my husband's fortune! If a single hair on her head is frayed, it'll be your neck Susan!"
After that she seemed to be beyond words, merely grunting now and again that she should have taken the child away sooner…
The minute that her back was turned however, Yanlin mouthed a question concerning her impractical fib, to which Susanna whispered back, "it's the only way that we'll get her to help us look for Corn…"
"Well," she turned upon them all suddenly, several people gasped, "was there a ransom note?"
"Er…yes!" Susanna squeaked.
"Give it to me…"
"I-I've misplaced it…due to the terror…"
She grunted like a caged beast then, but didn't say anything else; instead she began to pound the blessed antique rug with her heavy walking stick.
Imagining now that the commotion was finally over, Yanlin urged Susanna to continue.
"Oh…well, he was very persistent that man, I was flattered, but still…but then…suddenly, just like that, I found that I couldn't resist him any longer…"
"What does this have to do with my granddaughter dammit!" The redhead hissed, but was shushed, surprisingly by a stern look from Yanlin, a woman less than half her size, both horizontally and vertically.
"Love potion. You should have known how to protect yourself…" she explained once there was silence.
"I've heard enough. This is obviously a ransom deal…and we should proceed as such." Not one to be obedient for long, Miss Vandom began to bark once more.
"Miss Vandom, understand what I tell you. This man…who has poor little Will, he is possessed with an evil that is not of this world…"
"Is he now? Well then," she extracted a pistol from the space within her bosom, it glistened with sweat; her distorted—excited face, merged with the metal, and she spoke in an eerie type of voice, "I'll just have to exorcise him with this!"
They all watched, transfixed as she stomped out of the room, finally breathing again once they heard the slam of the main doors.
"Hurry now Susanna…we may talk more freely now that the witch is gone."
"Yes, well…it was a while after the wedding that I noticed the murders…and his disappearances…business he'd always say…but I found…his things once…the eyes…had had eyes, human eyes, kept in a bottle…I'd been simply curious about why he always spent so much time in the library…you can't imagine how it frightened me."
"What then?" Whispered Haylin; who was curled up near to the fire place, her brown eyes wide as though she were listening to a particularly gruesome bed-time story.
"He'd come home late that night…I had intended to confront him. But then I found him looking into Cornelia's bedroom, staring at her—and I…everything made sense then…those other girls…all fair haired…"
The entire room broke off into confused whispers, some of disbelief "he was always so polite," others of agreement, "I always knew him to a bad one…it was the look in his eyes…"
"After that I knew that I had to get Cornelia away from here…send her away, you understand…but I couldn't just do it…she had such a bright future ahead of her…if I sent her away so suddenly, I knew that they'd begin to speculate…that she was pregnant or…dishonorable…and I couldn't…"
"Well, you were being very ridiculous! I must say! Why didn't you send her to your family! We would have…" her mother, wrapped thickly in her blanket and facing the opposite direction, spoke up.
"No, no they wouldn't! Don't you think that I tried! Ever since Will gave those girls the measles…and then there's this rumor that started with Irma…and…they wouldn't take her."
"So that's why you arranged the marriage…" Taranee began, it all made sense now…
"Of course, if she were to be married, to a good man, of good breeding, he'd have to take her away, he'd protect her…and Phobos, would never find her…but he did…Oh God he did…" She broke down into fresh sobs.
"Mother…I-I…I'm so sorry…" Irma, now visibly trembling from her head to her feet, spluttered.
"Irma not now…"
"No, no, that's…I told him, I told Phobos about the wedding…I invited him here…I told him to come…" She fell to the floor in a miserable heap, convinced; completely convinced that this entire thing was her fault and her fault alone …
"What on earth…" Susanna looked up from her damp sleeves to survey the fallen girl…
"He…he was my…my friend. Well, I told him everything…about me, about all of us…" Her confession came swiftly, as though she could avoid the word's consequences if only she could say them quickly enough.
"Irma, slow down…"
"When he left, I had been going through Will's things…because you'd told us to burn them all…remember, so that they wouldn't breed the measles…and I'd found some papers…they'd been his…I think, one had an address…I just wrote to see…you know…and then he wrote back and…I never knew that he was…"
"She's bad luck. I've told you that since the day that she was conceived. When we leave to find the girl, she'll have to stay." Yanlin spoke solemnly, ignoring the brunette's sobs and pleas for forgiveness.
"I didn't…I really didn't want her to…"
"He had body parts you said. Eyes?" A piece of this puzzle had suddenly slipped into place within Taranee's mind, the gazes of those in the room, for the first time tonight turned to look at her. She began to explain in as solid a voice as she could muster, "Those other girls…Dublin's daughter had her hair shaved…and there was another who had all of her teeth pulled…"
"He's collecting these things…for a spell." The Asian woman moved away from Susanna's side to stand in the center of the room, they all followed her with their eyes.
"A spell?" someone echoed.
"A resurrection spell." She further enlightened.
"Oh Jesus…I can hear it! I can smell the blasphemy. God is alive; he was raised from the dead! Don't speak these damnable words with your heathen tongue! Do you hear that Jesus, it was not me saying these things! I want nothing to do with this…my reward lies in heaven and you shan't take it away!" She attempted to run away from what she had termed the "road to hell", sadly however she tripped on her thick blanket and fell flat on her face.
"God?" she whispered then.
"I don't…believe…" Taranee murmured, this was truly too much…never had she expected…suspected…
"You don't have to, he does, and this is what he's attempting to do. It has to be. He'll call the spirit from the other world, to a body that he has created…"
"Cornelia's?" Susanna stared, her hand was clutching her dress at the spot above her heart.
"She's only part of it, I imagine. He probably intends to kill her at the very moment that the spell is cast…so that she'll be…fresh. The other parts…I imagine are to replace the features that he finds unappealing…the teeth, the eyes…the hair…"
"Are…you certain…" Whimpered Susanna, the thought of her poor child being dismembered was clearly too much for her to consider.
"The book that you lost, this spell was detailed in there. He must have taken it." She continued, obviously ignorant to the several individuals who had heard quite enough of this tale and had begun to journey out of the parlor, just as quickly as they had run in…
"We have to hurry then…we've lost too much time already." With a determined look etched clearly onto her tear stained face, Susanna moved to her feet.
"He can't cast the spell until the next full moon—next week. We have time to find her until then…"
"But he could be anywhere…" Taranee put forward.
"The spell has to be cast in a cemetery. I know that at least."
"Who is he trying to resurrect?" Whispered Susanna, the determination seemed to be temporary, for now she appeared more hopeless than anything else.
"Did he ever speak to you of his family?" Feeling as though she had to find someway to rectify the damage that she had done, albeit unintentionally, she began to question the fallen Countess.
"No…" she surrendered, now too far gone to even scream her still thriving hatred.
"Irma," But Taranee would not be daunted, she was a smart woman, and they'd see that. "Where did you send those letters to?"
"Connecticut." She answered at once.
"Well, then there is our answer…" she looked to the faces of the remaining family members, "it's our best bet."
"We can't get there in less than a week." Concluded Susanna, now taking to pacing about the room, "And then what if it's wrong? Mother stop singing!" Her mother had burst into the chorus of "To God Be The Glory" the moment cemetery had been mentioned.
"I think that…" Yanlin began to calculate, running her tongue over her lips as she evoked routes and short-cuts, failing to succeed at that endeavor, but then deciding to recall potions and spells, "from my memory, yes…we can slow him down…"
"Wonderful…if you don't allow him to do it next week, then he'll have to wait another month." Now, the adrenaline had returned, it fueled Taranee, and she swiftly became eager once again, hanging on to every spoken word.
"What if he grows impatient, angry? He'll just kill her…she's not the most amicable person in the world…no offense Mother." Squeaked Irma from her corner.
"He went through all of this trouble for her…we can only imagine that she's very important to him." Yanlin brushed aside her fears.
"All right, what do you suggest Yanlin?" Dripping with anticipation, Susanna raked over Yanlin's frame with her deep, purple eyes.
"There's a spell for a quick death."
"Yes, yes do that one!"
"Well, as I recall, it requires a fresh fish…and ten pounds of black pepper then you must write his name on some paper…and bury the entire thing on his property."
"Well that's not helpful at all!" Snapped the confused woman, pausing in her pacing to stomp her feet like a tantrum throwing child, "How fast will he die?"
"Six to seven months…maybe ten if it's a dry season…"
"So what's a slow death?" Haylin asked the question that was on everyone's mind.
"Six to seven years…three if it's a war."
"Never mind, what else do you have?" Susanna was unwavering in her decision that they kill this man through any means necessary.
"There's a spell for impotence." Offered the Chinese woman, without even so much as flinching.
"Honestly?"
"Well…it's not so much a spell as it is chopping off his…" she clicked her tongue, a strange euphemism for penis, "with a garlic coated machete."
"We're doomed!" Susanna mouthed like a suffering fish before dropping, yet again, to her knees.
"No no, there's a spell for good luck…you need five pounds…and three pence…payment, for even through your crisis I cannot starve. And then I shall give you a pendant for good luck, and one to ward off evil, and one for fertility!"
"We're ready to go. I found a carriage in the Stables, already set up! At least you all had the sense to do that. Have you imbeciles found the ransom note yet!" Miss Vandom had retuned, her skin seemed flushed from the frigid night air, but her eyes gleamed something fierce.
"Frog faced cow." Whispered her daughter-in-law, before chirping in a long, tortured voice; "Yes, yes…I had it all along."
"Let me see…" She began to march towards the woman's shrunken form.
"You can't…I mean, Daddy ate it." She jumped to her feet. "Err…bad Daddy, bad!" She scolded the foaming man in the corner. "He's in Connecticut however, and he claims that we won't be able to get there in a week." She offered a small smile to her…regrettably, best hope.
"Let's be on the move then!" With a shove of her trusty cane she clobbered the floor. "We've wasted enough time. Perhaps if we hurry then we can catch up with him."
"Irma stay here and take care of…Gloria…my pet parrot," she gulped, "Oh, how she hates being alone. The rest of you, come along."
"You're sending them along, but I have to…" Irma began to protest, she hated being alone…she really didn't want to be alone with that frightening image of Will.
"You've done more than enough Irma. Stay with Wil—Gloria."
"Do you have supplies?" Questioned the massive woman, halting them all with a single breath.
"All we need is the air in our lungs and this fine piece of tender cow." The honorable Duckriver bellowed, before kicking the fallen image of his wife, "We roast the thighs first, and then we can use the belly fat for energy as the weeks pass by…"
"Go into the back Jeffery, collect some of the jars that we have…and some bread, we can get some water from the stores outside…tell the servants to search the property, and not to let anyone in here…we're all going…"
"There's a problem though…they've all…left." Taranee stated what she thought had to be the obvious.
"Left?" She repeated, and for a long second the black girl believed that she might begin swearing again.
"During the…err…discussions…I don't think that there's but a one of them left…"
Susanna bit her lip, her teething forming a thin, white line. "All right…that's fine, we'll do it ourselves…are you coming with us then?"
"Yes," Taranee straightened her back, and raised her eyes, brown met violet in an unspoken contract.
"The more hands that we have the better." Yanlin chirped; leading her granddaughter outside, they were both loaded down with wooden crates and linen bags…
Miss Vandom however seemed less than impressed by this "rescue party". She could be heard muttering to herself all during the collection of goods…
"Hurry up!" She bellowed at last, "my poor Wilhelmina could be dead by now. I do hope that these people know that they shan't get a cent if I see once piece of her damaged!"
Taranee had excused herself from the party only minutes into the preparations, her mind had unexpectedly lingered on Caleb…and the fact that he was standing, still, outside in the darkness.
Her arms and legs pumped along the meandering road, so that the sounds of her stressed breathing and erratic footfalls were all that could be heard. She found him soon enough, although the sight of her made him jump, visibly, "What are you doing here?" He snapped.
She, who had taken a moment to catch her breath, looked at him viscously, "Change in plans boy…Phobos wasn't after the mother…"
"No," he stubbornly interrupted; his face was nearly comical, a mask of pure disbelief mingled with confusion. "I just saw you leave, with the blonde girl…Cornelia in the carriage."
The world around her quieted, and then exploded in a shock of red and white sparks, "you saw what? Then why in the hell didn't you stop them! That was Phobos!" She hissed, "How could you have let them go? I knew that leaving you alone in this state was a mistake…"
"It was your carriage," he protested, "the horse was Thor, I swear…"
"How could it be Thor when I just saw him being packed up outside of the house?"
"Could he…" his face grew puzzled, "could you both have the same horse?"
"Caleb, I've told you that there are only…"
"I know, but what if, what if he has one of the others?"
She looked away from him…allowed the idea to stagnate, and then, "all right. If what you say is true, then that's actually good news, I know what to look for now."
"You're going to go after him?"
"We both are…you won't believe who'll be accompanying us however," and she began to rush into an abridged version of tonight's events within the parlor.
She didn't manage to get very far into it.
"She fainted!" He looked fit to murder, "what do you mean she fainted?"
"She seemed like she was sick…I'm not sure, they took her to her room, she'll be fine. It seems like this happens quite a bit with her. Anyway, so then…"
"She had a fever…so they're just leaving her?"
"I'm getting to that," she spoke, annoyed at his questioning, but he didn't relent.
"They can't just leave her…something could happen, what if Phobos returns…" he faced the looming structure of the mansion, looking as though he were deciding upon the fate of the world.
Taranee rolled her eyes—but then, something cold hit her. "How did you know that she had a fever? Is this why you've been moping all night! Didn't I tell you…"
"Not now," he breathed, silencing her rant only because he had infuriated her so much.
"How could you do this?" She snapped, "How dare you get so involved?"
The roar of a carriage quieted her, she looked around to see her blessed Thor approaching, carriage in tow, the massive silhouette of Miss Vandom at the helm, only then did she return her gaze to him.
"Choose dammit."
He looked at her but didn't speak.
"Her or us. Pick. You know as well as I do that you can't have both. You come with me, or you stay with her. Pick. Now."
It didn't take him more than a second to answer, "I can't go Taranee."
If she was surprised she refused to show it, instead narrowing her eyes at his form, "fine, don't bother coming back." She hissed, "give me your pistol back. God forbid you two heartsick idiots decide to shoot each other once you realize just how ridiculous this is!"
She snatched the offending weapon away from him, and then hailed the speeding carriage; it came to an inelegant halt a few yards away. "I suppose that this is goodbye then." She tipped her hat to him.
"Good luck." He called after her, and then he watched as she ascended the front of the carriage, seating herself beside Miss Vandom, who then shook the reigns before they all took of into the night.
The winds watched from their perches, they saw and they questioned, but no, they didn't speak. They simply sang their night song as accustomed, ceasing only at that first hint of sunrise.
Author: Matt, Zadien? In my story. Please, bad enough having to write about Cornelia—not him too. All right, this story took me an entire day to write. I awoke on this SATURDAY (woe is me) at 8am and then finished now it reads 7:30. Wow. I am beat.
I don't know how good it is. I ran the spelling errors but that's about it. I was actually very hesitant about this chapter; I knew that it's the most important, "explain the stupid plot" chapter, so I hope that everything is now clear to you.
If not, drop me a line and I'll gladly clear it up.
There aren't that many things left to happen, the rescue of Cornelia, etc. Caleb is staying with Will now, which wasn't a rush decision on my part, it was simply just supposed to come later on in the story.
All is explained with the books and the letters from Irma, as well as the horses. Oh and about those spells, I actually got them from a black magic book, so don't try them.
I'm not sure when my next update will be, hopefully soon, seeing as it's got about 4 chapters left. So I hoped that you've enjoyed this!
Review please!