"Are you still awake?"
There was a thick quiet that hung in the air.
"Yes."
She didn't know what to say after that. She didn't expect him to actually be up. She continued to lay on her side, her back to him as she stared at the wall. There were hundreds of things she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the words for any of them. All of her questions had become caught between her teeth.
He moved closer to her, his hand sliding over her waist. She closed her eyes, finally settling on the most important one.
"How much longer?"
"How much longer until what?"
"You said that it, whatever it is, is nearly done. How much longer?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It depends."
"On what?"
"On how quick my men are, on how many of them are there when we find them."
"Are where? What are you looking for?"
She didn't dare look over at him, still trying to keep her focus on the wall ahead of her. The shadows blurred unappealingly.
There was a hesitancy in his voice, "A base. THE base. We need to find it before we can know anything else."
"Is that where my siblings are?"
She sounded so young sometimes. It didn't usually grate against him as it did now. He could just barely make out the silhouette of her cheek in the dark. Sometimes he regretted letting her get involved, not keeping her like she had suggested earlier as a nice yet distant trophy. And yet, he was altogether too clever to ignore her natural aptitudes; once they had won her allegiance, there was no doubt in his mind that she would prove invaluable to the cause.
He tried to find the right words, brushing his fingers over her, but eventually just settled on, "Yes." He could feel her nod imperceptibly.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are they there? Why are you looking for this place? Why all of this?"
"I've already told you. They've been snatched up by your volunteers."
"For what? To lure me in?"
"No, just to continue a noble legacy of murder and kidnapping."
"You have little right to judge on that front."
"At least I don't hide my crimes."
"So you've said before."
She rolled over onto her other side, facing him. He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with the same studious intent she had directed at the wall. She wondered what he was trying not to see.
"Who are they? Really. No double-speak, no self-lauding, just. Who are they? What do they want?"
He continued not to look at her, his chest rising ever so slightly with each breath he took. She had a very sudden clear understanding of just how tired this man was. The feeling gave her the intense need for a drink. He seemed to feel the same, pushing himself up off the bed in such a way to suggest his bones were made of metal and magnets. He sighed.
"I have some bourbon hidden away somewhere, give me a moment."
The mind is a carelessly elastic thing, and as she drank more, Violet found herself trying very hard to keep an acceptably tight grip on it. He had indeed kept some bourbon hidden in the back of a drawer (she reprimanded herself for not checking there earlier) which he manifested along with a glass. She swirled the dark brown liquor in the glass, balancing it on her knee as she sat curled on the bed. He was somewhat sprawled beside her, his weight on his elbow behind him. He took the glass from her hand.
"But why would they keep them from contacting me?"
He groaned, "That's just the way it is. Once you disappear for long enough, people stop looking for you, especially if you happen to be a child. Children are notoriously good at disappearing inexplicably."
"They can't possibly just take children with no questions asked-"
"Oh, plenty of questions are asked, but they're all the wrong ones. They're very fond of talking in circles."
"You have that in common."
He glanced at her curtly, offended by the comment before looking away solemnly, "What can I say? One's upbringing does have an effect after all."
"Evidently not a terribly big one, if you're not only willing to leave it all behind, but then to incinerate the remnants."
"I beg to differ. Had I not known about them, I wouldn't have cared at all."
She took the glass back from him, "You said something about fortunes?"
He scoffed again, "Ah yes. They do have a taste for the extravagant. You can be sure any and all of those dastardly neophytes have some sort of account in their name. Old money becomes new money becomes old money." He looked up at her, "Make no mistake, your own fortune was more than tainted with blood."
She shivered but didn't respond to his comment.
"And this base-it's the last one? Or is there a string of them, just one after another?"
"I don't know. There's no way for us to know until we get there. More likely than not there will be more. Although without facilities, we at least know the danger can't grow." He took the glass back from her hands.
She sighed, bringing her legs up to her chest, "Is there anything we do know?"
"It's a secret society, Violet."
"Can you guarantee the safety of my siblings?"
He took a long drink from the glass, "I can't guarantee anything."
She stiffened a bit, "Well, I'm going to need you to."
"What possible promises can I give you? I can't see the damn future." He proffered the bourbon again.
She sat quietly, rolling the glass in slow circles, watching the drink tumble, "No, but it is in your best interest."
He looked over at her, his eyebrow cocked, "My best interest? You overestimate how much I care."
"No, I understand that, it's just," she paused, staring deep into the glass, "they're kids."
"And? Do you think they'll be the only kids there?" He smiled a little, a dastardly smirk, "Or are you really willing to leave all the others behind so long as you get you and your own?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all."
"We're more alike than you care to admit." His teeth shone uncannily in the dark as he smiled. She looked away, "It's not the same at all."
"No? What wouldn't you do to get what you want?" The quiet of her thought pressed upon her like a weight. She was silent for just a moment too long. "In any case," he continued, "it would just be a distraction in the plan. There's no need for a bunch of entitled brats beyond their bank papers."
"No, I know, but. Wouldn't it be to your benefit to recruit rather than ruin?"
He regarded her amusedly, "An interesting thought. So, you're suggesting we take a group of children dedicated to the concept of false nobility and save them, so that we can do what? Train them into villainy? You do realize they are going to grow up someday and become the very people you claim to hate, right? While I don't mind the idea of fresh henchmen, are you ready to be the cause of a generation of wretchedness? How exactly does that sit in your moral code?"
She stared down, past the sheets, past her hands, into the sinking gravity of the planet. She didn't know how it was supposed to sit. She could save them later, but she wouldn't have siblings left to save if she didn't at least get them out.
"It goes down easier than you might think." She looked back up at him, still looking past him, in him, through him.
"Or, wait, let me guess-you'll adopt all of them and live with them in a seaside cottage complete with a garden?" He took the glass back from her, "And you'll have no need for any of their fortunes because you'll have given them all away to the poor, effectively ending world hunger, and it will all be so nice that nothing bad dare ever happen?" She flushed, irritated and hurt by his words but didn't say anything. "Nobility for the sake of nobility is always unrealistic."
"There is nothing at all to be claimed in killing children."
"Except for large sums of money. Kidding," he added at her quick glare, "but only somewhat. I'm not kidding, actually. It is quite a substantial gain."
"Yes well, I don't see why anyone has to die, really. I think you just want to take the coward's way out."
He frowned, "The coward's way out? Mass murder?"
"There is no reason for anyone to die other than the fact that you disagree with them."
"My Dear," his voice was patronizing, "that's the oldest reason in the book. And besides, we've already covered that there is indeed a reason for killing them, and that reason is money."
"That can't be all. As much as it pains me to say it, I know you're cleverer than that. There are other ways for you to ruin yourself morally without having to kill."
"Would you rather I divorced you and married each of them one by one?" There was a condescending tone in his voice, "The real villainy-a lack of prenups."
She felt her gut clench, "If you wanted to set me free, I wouldn't fight." She hoped her tone was suitably light.
He scoffed, "Please, till death do us part. The only way you're getting out is when I kill you."
"Unless I kill you first."
He smirked, placing the glass back in her open hand, "I've seen you try. I'm not too impressed." She had no idea who sat in the wrong versus right in the whole affair, but perhaps, just perhaps, if she could save a few innocent kids along with her siblings, perhaps it would be enough to undo all off the terrible things she had already done. Perhaps it would be enough to balance her out in the eyes of the universe.
"Besides," he interrupted her thoughts, "the moment you realized one of those brats was prettier than you, you'd drop all of your so-called noble ideals." He lay down, beckoning her to follow him. She stared at him, not moving, crinkling her nose in disgust.
"You can't possibly be that pretentious."
"What part of that was pretentious?"
"You think that I would let children die rather than risk, what? Losing you? Something tells me I'd survive."
"Oh would you?" He smiled, amused, like he had just heard some fantastic joke. "You wouldn't mind if I started flirting with some pretty girls who didn't want me dead?"
"I'm fairly certain that wanting you dead is just a natural part of speaking to you, so…"
"Come now. There's no need to mask your jealousy with cruelty."
"I… don't even know where to start with that."
"Admit it. You don't actually hate being my little wife."
"I definitely hate the fact that you just said that."
"Come here, my ever sweet Countess," he grabbed her arm, pulling her down. She drained her glass quickly, placing it to the side, allowing him to move her. She only had to stay in his favor for a little while longer.
Her head leaned against him, her eyes closed.
He exhaled a slow, tired sigh, his fingers only somewhat touching her, leaving wispy grazes against her skin.
She lay against his shoulder, the soft sound of his breathing the only noise in the house. She tried to close her eyes, but she kept imagining the smell of the liquor as the faintly metallic scent of blood.