Author's Note: Are you enjoying the story? (Enjoy might not be the right word because it's hard to see Dorcas in this painful state). I hope you're as invested in her journey as I am. Please leave me a review if you have any thoughts; love it, or hate it. Either way, I'm eager to hear from you. Thanks for giving my story some of your attention on a weekly basis. It's looking as if this story will be quite epic. It spans roughly forty years from when Dorcas is in school to when she has that fateful encounter with Tom. I hope you're not expecting a quick resolution, because this is looking like a halfway point.
Chapter 49
14 February, 1959 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
"Dorcas! Are you hurt? What the devil has happened?" her uncle's portrait asked, alarmed.
"I don't know, Uncle," Dorcas answered in a trembling voice as she crept closer to the shattered windows; cold wind howling through the empty frames.
She closed her eyes and reached with her consciousness for anyone in the gardens below that might have insight into what had just caused the blast.
Gasping, Dorcas's eyes snapped open once more.
"Uncle, can you get to your portrait in the Ministry and raise the alarm? I think Blackpool is under attack!"
With a crisp nod, Lysander's portrait stood and walked out of its frame.
Dorcas glanced to her left and noted that Tytos's portrait was blank as well. There wasn't even a sign of his proud charger, Capricorn this time.
Lifting the luxurious organza material that made up the skirts of her bridesmaid dress, she staunched the bleeding at the back of her arm where glass from the exploded windows had sliced her skin.
Then she grabbed her wand and raced back down to the library's ground floor and out of the french doors onto the veranda, now blown wide and divested of their glass panes.
She couldn't stop the replaying of the scene she'd just glimpsed in the mind of some Weasley relation in the garden below. The Minister and her son, surrounded by guards and Aurors, tearing off toward the boundary of the Rackharrow estate where they could Apparate to safety.
Dorcas wondered if the attack was meant to target the Minister. Or was it meant for someone else?
Gemma flitted into her mind like a shadow. Surely she would not instigate this scene of chaos after her failed attempt to derail the wedding earlier in the day?
Then she considered Tom. She remembered that Cal suspected him of being involved in Gemma's earlier interruption and she'd dismissed it. She still believed that Tom would not risk something so public.
But, she reasoned, there was a time she would never have thought him capable of rape or murder either.
You can be very wrong about people sometimes, Dorcas chided herself.
Whoever was behind this encroachment, they were well-concealed.
Dorcas had never seen anything like this in person.
Before her was mass panic. Partygoers scattered on the lawn, tables overturned, spells flying wildly. And at the perimeter of the chaos were darkly robed and hooded figures, masks covering their faces.
She recalled her years spent living in America where a group of terrorists with a bizarre name waged a race war that gripped the entire southern region. Their robes and hoods were white in contrast to this gang of marauders. They were Muggle instead of magical. But the comparison still smacked Dorcas in the face.
The group's motives were concealed as well, hidden behind a barrier of practiced Occlumency. Dorcas found one of the hooded attackers close to her and reached for his or her consciousness, only to be rebuffed.
Abandoning any attempt at sussing out the purpose of the strike, Dorcas searched for her family instead.
Cherry and Jonas were tag-teaming a pair of assailants very near where Dorcas had been sitting and chatting with her friends earlier in the evening, baby Joy asleep in her lap. She couldn't see Anneliese or any of the children in the fray. Dorcas hoped this was a sign that she and the little ones were safe in a sheltered location.
But another sight gave her a start.
Cal stood near Jonas and Cherry, sending volleys of spells in the direction of two attackers. Wren was clinging to his jacket sleeve and wailing as he tried to fight and simultaneously shield her from the flying incantations.
Dorcas's mind went blank as she tore off across the lawn, dodging spells and returning them with angry cries.
She didn't understand what was happening right now, but she understood that her girl was in danger and she could only think about getting to her.
One attacker met Dorcas's Stinging Jinx with a scream, clutching at his mask as he sunk to his knees.
Her hands reached out for Wren, pulling her into a bear hug and sheltering her from the green, red, and yellow sparks that sailed in all directions.
Cal was clutching at the back of Wren's dress, preventing Dorcas from pulling her to safety under a nearby table. He didn't seem to realize it was his wife who was trying to pull her from him.
"Cal, I've got her!" Dorcas called over the sound of a solid marble urn exploding behind her.
Cal turned in her direction and let Wren go when he registered her presence.
"Anneliese needs your help!" he shouted, ducking a green-colored curse.
"Where is she?" Dorcas called, hugging her hysterical daughter tighter as Cal deflected another spell that was aimed at them.
He pointed with his wand before turning his attention back to the attackers before him.
Dorcas followed his gesture and saw the blonde huddled under a table about six yards away in a froth of apricot skirts and surrounded by wailing children.
Casting about her to see if her path was clear, Dorcas swung Wren upward and into her arms, charging in the direction of the hiding place.
"Anneliese!" she panted. "Are you alright?"
Anneliese shook her head quickly in response, too frightened to say a word in answer.
Dorcas dove under the table with her and cast a Shield Charm over the table. It wouldn't hold, but it provided enough cover for Dorcas to get her bearings and make a plan.
Her eyes landed on each face in the group of asylum seekers under the table.
Anneliese, her baby girl and son, Trevor huddled together. Joy was screaming loudly as Anneliese rocked her (rather, her involuntary tremors rocked her). Arthur and his two older brothers, Caspar and Hamish clung to one another behind Anneliese and her children, white-faced but silent.
"Where's Ryann?" Dorcas gasped. Fear crept up her spine when she realized that her oldest daughter was not with them.
Anneliese responded with that nervous shake of the head again and a wide-eyed, mute stare.
"Come on. We can't stay here. The Shield Charm won't last much longer."
Anneliese made a strangled squeaking noise that Dorcas understood to be an objection.
"Anne, we can't hide here in the middle of the fighting. We're sitting ducks!"
Dorcas fought for calm, modulating the volume of her voice when Caspar jumped and tightened his grip on his two brothers.
"Here's the plan," she explained calmly but loudly over Joy's and Wren's sobs. "We'll get to the cemetery and make a Portkey to take us to your house, Anne. It'll be safer for you and the kids there."
"The cemetery?" Anneliese finally said. Her eyes were wide and her face pale.
Dorcas could hear her mental argument. It was far and they had children with them, making them slow.
She nodded encouragingly. "We have to get out of the boundary of the wardings, Anne. We'll lash the boys to us so we don't lose them and we'll carry Joy and Wren. We're going to disguise ourselves so we can slip away undetected."
"But there's dark figures everywhere out there, like an army of Dementors!" Anneliese said.
Dorcas closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
"Anne, they're just people and they don't want women and children. They're probably here for the Minister. Once they realize she's slipped away, they'll probably leave."
Anneliese nodded quickly, wanting to believe Dorcas's assessment of the attack.
"Boys, line up here." Dorcas directed Trevor, Arthur, Hamish, and Caspar.
A loud crash made the tabletop above them shudder as if something or someone had fallen on top of it. Without the Shield Charm, the wood may have split in half on top of their heads.
"Quickly now!" Dorcas ordered.
"Incarcerous!"
Dorcas checked that the magical rope connecting Anneliese's waist to Trevor's, Arthur's, Hamish's, Caspar's, and finally her own was secure.
"Now, baby," Dorcas said to Wren. "Wrap your arms about Mummy's neck and your legs around my waist. You need to hang onto me tightly."
Wren hiccuped, but turned her face attentively toward Dorcas and nodded.
"Ready, Anne?"
Anneliese fixed her with a determined look, clutching her wand in her left hand and her toddler against her chest.
Dorcas looked around at the woman and the children that were tied to her.
"In a moment I'm going to make you invisible. You won't be able to see me and I won't be able to see you. That's why we need the rope. But the best part of this trick is that the bad guys won't see us either."
Hamish and Caspar smiled, excited at the prospect of witnessing unusual magic.
"Talpaer!" Dorcas's voice rang authoritatively and in the same instant, the assembled group had disappeared.
"Everyone crouch low on their feet. I'm going to count to three and then say go! We're going to climb out and run!"
"Okay, miss!" one of the Wealey boy's voices said confidently.
"One. Two. Three. Go!"
Dorcas pushed herself out and up once she'd cleared the table. She immediately spun in the direction of the hale of magic and cast another Shield Charm out in front of her giving her group the opportunity to scamper out behind her.
"Everyone out?" Dorcas asked.
"Yes," Anneliese's voice answered at the other end of the tether.
"Okay. RUN!" Dorcas said, pushing off from her toes and securing Wren with her left arm.
Her lungs were on fire before too long and she had to concentrate on her footing as she turned periodically to check for pursuers.
She inhaled sharply when they reached the limits of the Printemps Charm, snow and slush filling her satin heels.
When she felt a heavy tug on the rope, she ground to a halt and threw up another shield.
"Sorry!" a Weasley called, scuffling on the ground. The snowbank must have tripped the boy.
Dorcas wasn't sure who'd fallen, but she was grateful for a moment to catch her breath. She'd not been eating well for the past month or so and her body felt weak. She cursed herself for her destructive tendencies and her frailty.
"Let's go," she said when she felt the rope slacken once more.
She was impatient to get Anneliese and the children to safety so that she could come back and look for Ryann and help Cal, Beau, Cherry, and Jonas.
She prayed that Lysander was able to raise the alarm at the Ministry.
Even if her uncle failed to flag anyone down, she reasoned that the Minister's security detail would send help. That is, if they made it out of the melee.
Dorcas winced as Wren shifted and pressed her leg against the pain that throbbed low in Dorcas's side. She hitched her daughter in her arms once again and pushed forward into the snow.
The cries of angry, surprised, and wounded people faded behind them as they neared the collection of stones at the top of the hill.
As Dorcas turned to survey the anarchy across the millpond, she noticed that Jonas's Quonset hut was on fire. He would be disappointed for the loss of his aeroplanes.
She shook her head, coming back to the sobering cognizance that there might be loss of life here tonight. Again, the question circled her mind. Who would want to do this?
"Are we far enough away from the wardings?" Anneliese huffed.
Dorcas spun in the general direction of her friend's voice.
"I think so. Finite!" Dorcas answered, pointing her wand at herself.
Anneliese did the same as Dorcas prompted each boy to make noises and stomp in the snow so that she could tell where she must point her wand in order to lift the Chameleon Charm.
She grudgingly thanked Tom for its invention. He might be a waking nightmare in her life now, but once upon a time he'd been a useful and creative companion. The spell had been a lifesaver tonight.
Setting Wren on her feet, Dorcas removed her shoe as Anneliese untied the rope from around the waists of the six of them.
"Portus!" Dorcas pronounced, pointing her wand at the apricot satin heel that was covered in snowmelt and mud. "Number 10 Berryfields, Aylesbury," she directed the Portkey to Anneliese's address and held the shoe out to the group.
They emerged in Anneliese's spotless drawing room to the renewed wails of Joy.
Dorcas wished they'd had a better way of leaving Blackpool Abbey. Portkeys could be rough on babies.
"Anneliese, you and the children will be safe here. I have to go back for Ryann." She set Wren on her own feet and pushed her into Anneliese's hip, despite her adamant refusal to let go of Dorcas's hand.
Dorcas peeled her five year old's tiny fingers from her own, hopping on one foot as she slipped the dead Portkey heel back onto her foot. She began to spin on the spot to Apparate back to the graveyard that held most of her family, but Anneliese grabbed her wrist to stop her.
"Dorcas, you can't leave me here!"
"Anneliese! You can look after six children. You're a wonderwitch!"
Anneliese swallowed and placed a hand over Wren's temple, pressing her to her side while bouncing Joy on her other hip. The boys stood in a silent and alert group to one side, waiting for further instruction.
"What if some of them have followed us?"
"Put up wardings, Anneliese. I wouldn't place Wren in your care if I didn't trust you to defend her. You can do this!"
She pulled her wrist free and departed with a final word of encouragement and a kiss on her daughter's crown.
:::
Dorcas returned to Blackpool Abbey, Apparating onto her mother's grave.
Looking out over the millpond once more, she saw smoke billowing behind the house in the graying sky of evening. She wondered what else besides Jonas's collection of aeroplanes was burning.
She massaged the worsening cramp at her pelvic bone and trotted back down the hill toward the conflagration.
Dorcas tried to think of places where Ryann might think to hide.
Ryann was familiar with Blackpool, having spent some time here with her parents visiting Jonas and Cherry. But she would not know of the wine cellar or the cistern out beyond the hedgerow maze. She could be hidden in one of the vast number of interior rooms in the manor house.
Or, like Dorcas, Anneliese, and the children, she could have fled the Rackharrow property altogether.
Dorcas was no closer to deciding where to look for her daughter first when she saw Cherry pinned by spellfire against the balustrade of the veranda.
Firing two blasts from her wand as she flew past, Dorcas felt a lurch of triumph when the figure assailing her friend crumpled to the ground.
"Cheers, Dory!" Cherry said before turning to duel another hooded figure that had her mother and father cornered.
"Dorcas!" Cal called to her.
Ducking a folding chair as it whizzed past her, she approached Cal and Beau as they held off a tall, brute-like adversary. Beau was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, but Cal looked to be unscathed.
Dorcas felt herself release a bit of tension, thankful he was unhurt.
"Where's Wren?"
"Alarte Ascendare!" Dorcas shouted, reacting as a smaller hooded attacker joined the mountainous one.
She paused to watch her opponent sail into the air before crumpling on the stone steps of the veranda.
Turning to Cal, she answered, "With Anne and the others at her house. They're safe."
Beau spared a momentary glance back at her to thank her for helping protect his family.
"I can't find Ryann, though. Have you seen her?" Dorcas asked, worried.
"No," Cal replied, cancelling his attacker's spell with a wave of his wand. His voice was weighted with worry as well.
"Over there!" Beau pointed toward the hedgerow maze.
Ryann was just slipping past a dueling pair and into the arched ivy opening at the maze's mouth.
Recalling an episode from her own youth where she was pursued in that same tangle of winding paths and dead ends, Dorcas tore off in the direction Beau indicated before she heard another word he or Cal said to her.
The southeastern quadrant of the maze was alight with red-orange flames.
A black robe disappeared around the maze's entrance with Dorcas in pursuit. She could hear Cal mentally calling out to her to wait for him. She could also see in his mind how he was being held up by covering her back as she ran pell mell in the direction of Ryann's pursuer.
She bit her lip, stifling the urge to shout out for her daughter. Ryann wouldn't be able to respond without giving away her location.
Of all the times Dorcas had been grateful that her own mind could not be breached by even the most practiced Legilimens, she wished that she could get past the same defenses in Ryann's mind. But her child's thoughts had always remained uniquely silent to her.
In frustration, Dorcas sent a wild hex in the direction of the black hood in front of her, missing him as he turned a corner.
Dorcas didn't dare to approach too closely to the tracker, worried that they would both be pinned into an unexpected dead end. She wasn't prepared for the maze to open into a fork with two more hoods staring her down.
"Dorcas! Duck!" Cal shouted.
She didn't need the instruction, skidding in the gravel as she tried to stop herself from running headlong into the two attackers. Her feet came out from under her and she landed hard on her left hip.
Cal's Shield Charm projected out in front of them both as the red curse from the enemy to Dorcas's left collided noisily with it. Her husband managed to hold the charm in place while offering her a hand up at the same time.
Dorcas was on her feet and running once more.
She didn't consult her husband on the best plan of action to deal with the cloaked goons or how they could both locate Ryann. She just took off in the direction she thought Ryann and her pursuer might have gone, leaving Cal to face the two other assailants on his own.
He didn't seem to object to being abandoned. Dorcas knew he would rather her find Ryann than stay to help him.
Beyond the maze's tall hedges, Dorcas could hear the pandemonium of the curious invasion. And, louder, the heels of her own shoes digging into the gravel of the path beneath her.
But it was the mental noise that caught her attention.
She wasn't sure if the ogre in front of her had dropped his Occlumency barrier because he thought he was protected within the maze. Or was he the weak link that didn't have his barrier up to begin with?
Dorcas was able to probe him for information and at the same time track his movements in the maze before her. She was relieved to know that his turns and switchbacks were as much guesswork as hers. He didn't have eyes on Ryann.
Her heart leapt into her throat upon the discovery of the next bit of information she gleaned from the stalker's wide open mind. The hood and mask concealed a werewolf.
She stifled a gasp as she became enlightened to this fact.
Could the attack this evening be the work of a fringe group on the edges of Wizarding society looking to settle a score?
Either way, Dorcas felt chills creep up her spine at the thought of such a dangerous predator in this maze hunting her child.
As she pushed deeper into the mind of the beast and further into the heart of the maze, she found conversations that he'd had with others that planned this event. But she recognized none of them.
Black magic societies often worked this way. It was in the playbook of the most prolific dark wizards of the age. Grindelwald was a master of this type of layering of confidences. It reminded her of the tumens employed by the Mongols. The overall leader of the organization only had to give his orders to his ten closest men, and that ten dealt only with ten others, and so on. In this way, the footsoldiers, goons, lackeys, whatever you wanted to call them, never knew the identity of the inner circle of the organization.
They may never fully understand who had planned this attack or why.
Dorcas screamed when she ran into another figure as she rounded a corner. She was propelled backward slightly as the smaller person before her also staggered back.
"Mum!" Ryann gasped, relief was evident on her face.
"Darling!" Dorcas cried, grabbing Ryann's shoulders and hugging her in a suffocating embrace.
Now that she'd found her daughter, her worry for Cal had the opportunity to resurface. Part of her wished she hadn't torn off and left him. She tried to keep the worst-case scenarios from taking over her senses.
He would be okay.
She pushed the thoughts away and instead racked her mind for next steps. She hadn't thought past getting to her daughter before her feral pursuer. Now they needed to escape without drawing attention.
The Chameleon Charm wouldn't work with all of the noisy gravel underfoot.
She crouched into a corner of the hedgerow, pulling Ryann down with her, clinging to her daughter tightly.
The gravel underfoot. How to get the gravel out from under foot…
Dorcas had a sudden spark of inspiration.
"Accio broomsticks!" she whispered, picturing the outbuilding that housed various sporting equipment including a large leather case with the four balls used in Quidditch matches and several broomsticks.
She became queasy at the thought of flying out of the maze on a broomstick, but had to admit it was the best idea she could come up with.
Two Comet Ninety-Fives burst through the hedgerow beside them a moment later.
Dorcas grabbed them, handing one to Ryann.
"You're going to fly out of here and head to the cemetery. It's outside of the wardings. From there, you'll take this," Dorcas removed her shoe once again and enchanted it into a Portkey, setting a timer for five minutes so that it would not deactivate inside of the protective enchantments of Blackpool Abbey. "It's a Portkey to Anneliese and Beau's house. Anne's already there with your sister and others."
Ryann nodded, attending carefully to the instructions.
There was a sound of crunching gravel that announced someone's approach.
"I'm going to conceal you. You can lift the enchantment once you're safely at Anneliese's."
Ryann nodded once more, mounting her broom.
"Hang onto that!" Dorcas said in a strangled voice, pointing to the Portkey.
The idea of Ryann soaring over combat, spells ricocheting in every direction made her shake with terror. But to keep Ryann here with a monster in this labyrinth was not a risk she was willing to take.
"I will, Mama!" Ryann said, tightening her fingers around the shoe. "What will you do?"
"I have to find your father, but we will only be a moment behind you. I want you to help Anneliese take care of the children when you get there, okay?"
"Yes, Mama," Ryann agreed.
Dorcas nodded, hearing the approach of someone behind them. "I love you! Talpaer!"
With the last word, Ryann disappeared right before her eyes.
"FLY!" she shouted, as the hedgerow burst over their heads.
The hulking masked stalker she'd followed into the maze was standing behind her now, cutting off her escape.
There was a rustling of wind, causing her skirts to ripple, telling her that Ryann had sailed off over the verdant wall of ivy and boxwood.
She turned to face the intruder.
"Who are you talking to, little lady?" the cloaked and masked figure asked, slowly approaching, wand gripped in his fingers at his side. He cocked his head.
The mask, silver with a swirling bronze detail, only exposed his eyes and an eerie grin.
Dorcas didn't answer, but clutched her wand tightly in her right hand and the Comet in her left.
"I could smell you on the breeze. You and the little morsel. Where has she gone?" His voice was rasping. His grin exposed his teeth, two sharp, yellow incisors glinting.
When the cold wind shifted, Dorcas could smell him as well. Unwashed skin, the scent of blood and decay wafted from him. She stifled the urge to gag and concentrated on the shades of his consciousness instead.
She wanted information, wanted to predict his moves.
"Who sent you here?" Dorcas demanded, knowing he wouldn't answer. Not to ask would seem suspicious, Dorcas thought.
He only answered with another dangerous grin.
He didn't know who sent him. The promise of warm flesh to sink his teeth into was all the motivation he needed to come tonight. It didn't matter who did the bidding.
His mind flashed to the Disarming Spell. He wanted to divest her of her weapon so that he could hunt her slowly. Thrill in stalking a defenseless creature. Fear made the blood richer.
"EXP–" he began.
Dorcas raised her wand a hair quicker than the werewolf did, sending him to the ground with a Stunning Spell. She bound him in magical ropes for good measure, leaving him on the ground for someone to find sooner or later.
She wondered if Cal had become trapped as well, a knot forming in her throat imagining that something awful may have happened to him.
Placing the Chameleon Charm over herself once again as she straddled her broomstick, Dorcas kicked off into the air, trying to resist the urge to close her eyes as she lifted off the ground.
Soaring lowly over the hedgerow, Dorcas coughed as the smoke from the burning section of the maze covered her.
Visibility was low and her eyes began to sting from the gray haze.
She finally spotted Cal close to the center of the labyrinth. He seemed to be frantically searching, probably looking for her or Ryann. She wanted to call out to him that they were both safe. But her voice bubbled up into a cry when the wind shifted, clearing the smoke to reveal two hooded figures pursuing him.
Dorcas watched from above. In a couple more seconds they would meet in the central clearing of the convolution.
Knowing it could very well reveal her position to the attackers below, Dorcas pointed her wand and fired.
She didn't know why the spell that escaped her lips was Lapifors. She might have found it funny, the sight of the hooded pursuer disappearing into a black pile of fabric, a rabbit emerging, nose twitching moments later. But she didn't have time to admire the absurdity of her spellcasting. The rabbit's partner had seen her encantation's sparks.
He fired off three rapid curses.
Dorcas managed to dodge the first two, even with her shoddy flying skills. The third jinx, however, caught the tail of her broom lighting it ablaze.
She lost control of the broom, even as she lost sight of Cal and the cloaked assailant that he was surely meeting in the clearing now.
Dorcas struggled to keep herself airborne as her broomstick lost altitude, heading straight for the section of the maze whose orange flames licked upward at her feet.
Briefly in Dorcas's panic she wondered how she looked to spectators from the ground, who wouldn't be able to see her or her broomstick, just a billowing plume of smoke that sailed downward and to the east in a languid ark.
There was absolutely no way to control the rudderless vehicle any longer and Dorcas hoped she was low enough to the ground and the snow cover thick enough to cushion her if she crash landed.
She didn't have the opportunity to find out, however. An errant hex flew past her, knocking her off the broom and into the outstretched branch of a tree before rendering her unconscious and depositing her on the floor of the forest that marked the eastern boundary of the Rackharrow estate.
Dorcas fought the urge to close her eyes for only a moment, registering a slight pain in her knee, her ribs, and low in her abdomen.
Then all was quiet and dark.
:::
Dorcas opened her eyes sometime later, blinking snow from her eyelids.
The frigid night air filled her lungs as she inhaled. The next thing she was able to feel was the throbbing in her knee and her ribs. She remembered falling from a height of about twenty feet, a branch breaking beneath her before she collided with the ground.
But it was a twisting cramp in her abdomen that sent a shockwave through her lower extremities, causing Dorcas to grit her teeth and cry out.
Her hand still miraculously gripped her wand. She turned to look at the smooth, dark acacia wood in her grasp, only to find a curious phantom limb sensation. She could feel the thin magical instrument, but she couldn't see it, or her arm.
Slowly, she remembered her own Chameleon Charm and realized that she was camouflaged; alone in the forest.
Pushing herself into a sitting position took most of her reserves of energy and set off another wave of pain within her body.
Her voice trembled as she spoke the incantation through chattering teeth and chapped lips, ending the charm.
The shock she felt when she looked down at her lap caused her to wail in fright. The apricot of her bridesmaid dress was now saturated with blood, frozen around the perimeter of the scarlet pool, still glistening crimson and warm at the center.
Experience and a healer's knowledge finally convinced her of what she'd not wanted to acknowledge since the curious pains had begun this afternoon: that she had become pregnant and also that she was miscarrying the child.
Dorcas's arms shook as she lifted her soaked skirts. The violent shade coloring the snow told her that she'd not been bleeding for more than fifteen minutes or so. But the cold and the bloodloss meant that she had only moments to get help before she passed back into unconsciousness, perhaps for good.
Just as she needed a sharp and decisive mind, her own thoughts began to drift over hazy and distant subjects, unable to settle on a precise course of action.
She could Apparate…
However, she was outside the wardings of the estate.
St. Mungo's was an option, but it had wardings too, for obvious security reasons.
She could send her Patronus to the main house…
And tell them what? "I'm somewhere in the eastern stand of pines, bleeding to death. Come and find me."
Dorcas decided the Patronus was the only solution that was viable. But first she had to try and stop the bleeding.
Pointing her wand at her lap, noticing that the effort to lift it was immense, she whispered "Sanguis Prohibere," hoping this would be enough to staunch the blood flow until someone found her.
She slumped forward with the effort of the spell casting, but pulled in another breath and lifted her wand once again.
"Expect–" she muttered as stars danced before her eyes.
She had an odd sensation of delay between her trunk and her mind, only registering her core's inability to hold her in a sitting position after her head and shoulders collided with the frozen ground behind her.
Her wand hand flopped to the snow beside her as her fingers grew numb and motionless, releasing her lifeline.
No one was going to find her.
She wondered if Cal would remember to cut the crusts off of Wren's sandwiches even when she was no longer around to remind him of those little things.
:::
When she opened her eyes, it was not her face that looked back at her from the vanity's mirror.
It was a near enough likeness that the casual observer would be able to tell that there was a family resemblance.
While the hair was dark and the build petite like her own, the green eyes and the high cheekbones told Dorcas that it was Gemma's reflection that met her gaze.
Dorcas watched Gemma's delicate fingers adjust the black lace on the plunging neckline of her short nightgown. She noted another difference between herself and her cousin. She would never be able to wear something with that sort of neckline without appearing obscene.
On Gemma it wasn't. She had just enough to fill out the lingerie without overburdening the garment. She looked alluring, graceful, dark, tempting. Qualities Dorcas was sure did not describe herself.
Gemma was adding red lipstick to her look when there was a distant knock at her front door.
She immediately grabbed the sheer robe that was on the back of the chair, draping the fabric over her shoulders.
Gemma looked like every sin known to man and Dorcas knew there was only one she was seeking to trap tonight.
Dorcas felt herself jolt with the revolting realization.
"I don't want to be here. How am I here?"
She couldn't seem to shake herself out of the dream, mirage, memory, hallucination…
What in the bloody hell was this?
"Up here," Gemma singsonged, making Dorcas want to gag.
When Tom appeared on the other side of the bedroom door, it confirmed for Dorcas that this was a nightmare.
"Wake up, Dorcas! Wake the fuck up!"
Tom wore a pair of gray trousers and a black shirt with the top two buttons unbuttoned. He looked like the same man that Dorcas had known. Boy, Dorcas corrected herself. I didn't know the man. I only knew the boy he once was.
His eyebrows raised at Gemma as his eyes raked up and down her form. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk.
"Wanted to talk, did you?" Tom asked, a teasing laugh playing on his words.
"Of course! That's why I invited you here!" Gemma replied innocently, turning to a bartender's cart in the corner of the room.
She turned her back to him.
"Drink?" she asked over her shoulder, bending to pour herself something clear.
Dorcas knew Gemma was aware that the hem of her short nightgown rode up her thighs as she bent over.
Was this really working?
One look at Tom and Dorcas could tell that it was.
"Scotch," he answered, moving to the bed and stretching out, shoes on the counterpane. He watched Gemma with interest, but his mind also seemed as if it was on other matters.
Or he wanted it to seem that way to Gemma, at any rate.
"So," Tom began, taking the drink she offered to him. "What did you ask me here to talk about? In your bedroom. Dressed like that."
"Like what?" Gemma asked, preening for him, sipping her drink.
Tom raised his eyebrows in a challenge.
"Very well. I asked you here in the hopes that you would ravish me, Tom Riddle," she admitted, red lips smiling as she sipped again, staring at him through her eyelashes.
"Maybe another time, Gem," he laughed, watching her reaction to the rejection.
Gemma set her glass on the vanity and lifted one hand to tug some hair behind her ear.
"You're no fun!"
Tom sat up, alert. He kicked his feet off of the bed, perching on the edge.
"Do that again!"
Gemma furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes at him. "Do what?"
"That thing with your hair."
Gemma spun to look at her reflection in the vanity's mirror. "What thing?"
"The way you just tucked it behind your ear like that."
She humored him, watching as he moved with a slow, feline grace from the bed to stand before her.
His gaze was intense, studying her in great detail. The dismissive, uninterested, superior Tom was replaced by one that had become obsessive, enraptured by...what? A gesture?
"What else would you like for me to do?" Gemma purred. Her hands reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he swatted her away.
"What else would you like for me to do, my lord," Tom corrected her.
Gemma's grin hitched higher. Her hands, being denied any part of him, went to her collar bone, tracing it lightly with her fingertips until they rested on her shoulders, sweeping the thin black material of her robe away.
It pooled to the floor around Gemma's feet.
She watched Tom watching her.
"What would you like for me to do next, my lord?" she repeated, slipping a finger under the strap of her nightgown.
"Stop!" he commanded her.
She froze. But that smile was still on her lips.
Dorcas wished she could warn Gemma. This was not a game. Well, not a game that she would enjoy playing. She felt a wave of panic in her for Gemma. There was no love lost between them, but Dorcas didn't want to see Tom hurt her.
Tom ran his index finger absently over his bottom lip. Considering Gemma's question.
He turned and looked at the wall behind him and then back at Gemma.
"Stand against that wall," he commanded.
The smile fell at the unexpected request, but Gemma stepped out of the pile of gauzy robes at her feet and placed her back against the wall next to her bed.
Tom turned to watch her obey. The smile returned. He was pleased to see her so biddable.
Gemma held her hands out in question. "Now what?"
There was a hint of irritation in her voice. She was losing patience with Tom's eccentricities.
"Now what, my lord."
Gemma rolled her eyes and was silent.
Dorcas felt her shoulders and neck stiffen, silently pleading with Gemma not to provoke him.
"Take that off," he ordered, deciding to let her recalcitrance go unanswered for the moment.
Gemma's smirk was back.
"As you wish, my lord."
She slipped the straps of the black nightgown down her arms, pausing just before peeling the garment from her small breasts. Her eyes flicked back to Tom's as if she wanted him to repeat the request.
He only nodded sternly at her.
Gemma slid the nightgown down to her waist and let gravity take it from there, shimmying a little as the fabric caught on her hips.
"And those," Tom added, pointing to Gemma's black lace panties.
Dorcas wanted to look away, to give Gemma privacy. She cursed whatever magic held her here, realizing she was being forced to witness this scene that was beginning to resonate with her own recent encounter with Tom.
Gemma paused.
Dorcas wondered if Gemma was regretting her invitation for Tom to come over and "talk" tonight.
Gemma's chin raised in a challenge as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and tugged them downward. Like the nightgown, she let gravity do the rest of the work once they'd reached her knees.
Catching them on the end of her toe, she kicked them toward Tom with a playful smile.
Dorcas could see a hint of fear behind the flirty act. If she could see it, she knew Tom could as well.
He slowly came toward Gemma, eyes raking up and down her naked form. Still in his trousers and shirt, while she was completely exposed, he reveled in the disquiet of her mind as she squirmed under his gaze.
She lifted an arm to cover her breasts as her other hand slipped down her abdomen to cover the dusting of dark hair at the apex of her thighs.
Tom shook his head slowly. "I didn't tell you to cover up."
"Tom, I–"
"My lord, Gemma," he reminded her patiently. "I thought you wanted me to come here tonight and ravish you?"
Gemma swallowed but didn't respond.
Tom grabbed her wrists, removing her hands and extended her arms above her head.
Tom was tall and had no problem holding her arms at a height that made her resort to standing on the tips of her toes.
Dorcas pulled in a shaking breath when she watched him transfer both of her wrists into one hand and reach down to his trousers pocket for his wand.
She felt triggered, watching the way that he held both of her wrists captive over her head with one hand. Dorcas could feel her own wrists burning with the pressure of it. Felt her airways constrict as if his fingers were once again around her throat.
Pointing his wand at her wrists, pinned to the wall above her, he whispered, "Incarcerous!"
Thin white ropes erupted from the tip of his wand, binding her hands together. A wall sconce above them was conveniently placed in order to hook the bindings.
Gemma looked up at Tom's work and tugged her arms a little. The sconce was secure as were her hands.
Tom slowly released the hand that held her wrists, tracing a finger down her arm, resting at her left breast. Splaying his palm, he cupped it, massaging.
He was concentrating on this one act intensely, his brow furrowing as if he was puzzled by something.
"They're smaller," he said, his voice faint as if he meant only to be heard by himself.
Gemma scoffed. "It's in bad taste to comment on the size of a lady's tits, Tom!"
How could she be so composed? Dorcas wondered. Even as she struggled to take the pressure off her wrists by balancing on the tips of her toes, naked as the day she was born, she managed to lecture him at the same time.
"To comment on the size of a lady's tits, my lord."
He didn't look up at her as he reminded her once again of his preferred honorific. Instead he ducked his head and began to tease her nipple with his tongue.
"And it was a comparison, specifically," he added, his breath causing the skin to grow taut, her nipple to stand at attention. "Your breasts are smaller than hers."
Dorcas felt bile rise in her throat. She understood his meaning. She thought Gemma did too, but she was too stubborn to let it go.
"Whose?" Gemma asked.
"Your cousin's," he answered, grazing his teeth across the sensitive flesh.
Gemma made a strangled noise. Dorcas couldn't decide if it signaled anger or terror. Perhaps a bit of both.
He straightened to study her reaction, stepping back a pace to look at her as he unbuttoned his shirt.
"I'm not her," Gemma finally said, maybe as a way to fill a dreadful silence that fell between them.
Tom's shirt dropped to the floor and his hands moved to the belt at his waist, undoing the buckle with languid motions. The way he held Gemma's gaze was incredibly aggressive.
When he allowed his trousers to drop, Dorcas noticed that he wore nothing underneath.
He stepped closer once more, his right hand falling to his erection, stroking.
"No," he agreed. "You're not her."
Transferring the hand he used to stoke his own desire, he glided his fingers to the place where her thighs pressed together. When he met resistance, he smiled.
"Not up for a ravishing tonight after all?"
Gemma's chin lifted in defiance once more.
"I need to know that you're not just fucking me because I look like her," Gemma replied. She added, "My lord," in a supplicating tone that Dorcas knew would stir Tom's passions.
"I know who you are, Gemma," Tom purred, pressing a kiss to her lips.
His hands slipped from her thighs to her hips, finally squeezing her backside.
Gemma pulled her head back from his insistent lips. "Then fuck me, my lord."
She pulled herself up by the bindings of her wrists, aided by Tom's hands on her rear, wrapping her legs around him.
Tom's thrusts pushed her higher against the wall, causing her to cry out.
"Say it again," he growled as his lips found her right breast.
Gemma moaned. "Say what?"
"Say my name," he growled again, biting her, teasing the mark with his tongue before pushing his hips into her once again.
"Lord Voldemort," Gemma gasped, breathless. "You're the darkest wizard in a generation," she continued, each proclamation ended with his thrusts pressing her back into the wall. "You're the heir of Salazar Slytherin. The master of the chamber of Slytherin's monster."
Dorcas was reminded of the sound of the headboard of her bed as it beat against the wall of her bedroom as Tom plowed into her with the same intensity. She could still feel it in her body.
Tom's right hand abandoned Gemma's backside and wound itself in her hair instead, jerking her head violently backward.
"You are honored by the favor I'm showing you," Tom grunted and he continued to drive into Gemma.
She gasped when he brought his mouth to her neck and bit her again.
"I'm honored beyond all women," Gemma agreed.
Dorcas didn't know whether Gemma meant that or said it because of the compromised position she found herself in. Dorcas knew from experience that to fight against Tom only inflamed him further.
She cried out again as he bit her shoulder, drawing blood.
Her cries seemed to excite him to a new frenzy, pumping his hips rapidly and groaning as her thighs squeezed them.
"I'm coming, my lord," Gemma screamed, catching her lower lip with her teeth.
Tom seemed close to completion too, his thrusts becoming more uneven, his thigh muscles and glutes tensing, his breath becoming ragged.
One final drive into her caused Tom to moan. "Birdie!" he heaved, panting against Gemma's chest.
Gemma had heard it. Her face bore a shocked expression that quickly shaded over into passive indifference.
"Get me down," she said, straining at her bonds. "My lord," she added harshly.
Tom pressed her to the wall for leverage and used his right hand to untie the ropes from the sconce. He didn't move away once she was freed, but pressed her to the wall and trapped her mouth in a kiss.
Gemma accepted it without protest or comment.
When he set her on her feet, she wobbled, unexpectedly weak in her legs. She reached out and grabbed Tom, his hands darting out to brace her as well.
He laughed, bending to scoop her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. He managed to throw back the covers without dropping her, laying her gently on the crisp sheet beneath the counterpane.
She shifted into the middle of the bed to allow him to slip in beside her.
But Tom turned away from her and walked back to his discarded clothing.
Dorcas watched Gemma as Gemma watched Tom. Dorcas felt a curious sympathy for Gemma when she saw the way her cousin looked at him. She adored him. And she was realizing that to adore him would mean that little by little her fierce fighting spirit, her self worth and respect would erode until all that was left inside of her was the need to be praised by him, touched by him, noticed by him.
She saw the moment Gemma decided that she would allow him to compare her to Dorcas, to accept that when he came inside her it was his pet name for Dorcas and not Gemma's own name escaping his throat. Gemma decided that in order to keep him coming back to her, she would have to become what he needed.
And Dorcas felt a tear drop from her lower lid onto her cheek.
Tom bent to retrieve his wand, approaching the bed once more, pointing it at Gemma's shoulder where a red outline of his teeth remained.
"Leave it," Gemma said, pushing his hand away. "I like your marks on my body."
Tom raised his eyebrows in answer, setting his wand on the bedside table beside his abandoned scotch.
"It means I'm honored, right?" She smiled at him, propped up on her elbow.
He took a sip of the amber liquid and nodded.
"It means you're mine!"
Tom threw back the covers and slipped under them. Gemma stretched herself along his side, lightly stroking the fine hairs on his chest.
He moved to set the glass back on the table, pausing when he saw something there. Turning back to Gemma with the announcement of her brother's engagement.
"Jonas is marrying Cherry Weasley?"
Gemma nodded. "He's been obsessed with her since school."
Tom read the announcement silently.
"It's good to keep magic within the right bloodlines. The Rackharrows and the Weasleys are old pureblood families."
"He can do better. The whole ginger lot of them are Muggle lovers," Gemma argued, her hand slipping below the covers.
Tom sighed as her hand grew bolder.
"They're having an engagement party at the end of the month. Want to be my date?" Gemma asked hopefully, her hand continuing to work him up again.
There was silence.
"She'll be jealous to see me on your arm," she enticed.
Tom swatted her hand away. "She's never been jealous of you."
:::
Dorcas felt warmth that she did not remember feeling when she lost consciousness. Smooth sheets against her skin, a pillow cushioning her head.
This was not the hard, cold forest floor that she remembered.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in her room at Blackpool Abbey. A room she had known since the summer of 1940.
Her hand stretched out to the pillow beside her, expecting to feel Cal laying next to her. His side of the bed was empty.
"Cal?" she called. Her vocal chords felt scratchy, her voice faint.
"He's seeing to a couple of others right now, but he'll be back," Cherry's voice soothed.
Dorcas felt a hand stroking her hair back from her forehead.
Slowly, the events of hours ago...days ago...came back to her. The glass shattering around her in the library, her trek with Anneliese and the children to the cemetery. Helping Ryann to flee that disgusting beast that was stalking her.
"Did Ryann make it out?" she croaked, sitting up and allowing the covers to fall down to her waist.
"Whoops!" Chery said, pulling the covers up and pushing Dorcas back against the pillow. "Ryann and Wren are both with Anneliese, perfectly fine, clean, fed. You know Anne."
Cherry jumped up and looked about the space. "Let's get a nightgown on you, honey. Where do you keep them?"
Dorcas pulled her arm loose from the sheets and pointed to the chest of drawers to one corner next to the changing screen. "Top drawer."
Cherry found a flannel garment with pink flowers on it and returned to the bed.
Dorcas threw back the covers and held her hands above her to assist Cherry in pulling it over her head. She looked down to adjust the material under the sheets and saw blood.
She remembered her struggle in the snow, her attempt to staunch the bleeding. The resigned feeling when she fell back and accepted death.
"Is it…" she gulped, deciding if she was hopeful or distraught to learn if her baby had been saved or lost. "Did I…"
Dorcas couldn't seem to get the words out.
"Why don't we wait for Cal, sweetie? He'll be able to tell you everything."
"Everything?"
Once she'd readjusted Dorcas's covers, Cherry sat back down in the chair at Dorcas's bedside.
"Yes, after the DMLE showed up and sorted the remaining party crashers, Cal set to work triaging guests for transport to St. Mungo's or else to the house for more urgent care. It wasn't until about an hour later that Jonas noticed you weren't here. He went to check with Anneliese, at your home, both of the Meadowes's places. You were nowhere to be found."
Dorcas inhaled and nodded. A wave of guilt passed over her thinking about how worried she'd probably made everyone. And Cal was trying to help the wounded all on his own without her assistance.
"We all went out searching for you on the grounds. It was cold last night. I don't know how you survived! It's an absolute miracle, Dory!"
Dorcas tried to smile but felt as if she could only grimace.
"Jonas was beside himself when he found you. Cal was amazing! I've never seen anything like him! It was some real field hospital stuff he did, operating on the ground like that."
Professional interest piqued, Dorcas probed on.
"He operated? Outside?"
"It was too risky to move you. You'd lost a lot of blood. Hypothermia was setting in. He built a Sauna Shield around you and tossed up some sterilization charms and went right to work."
Dorcas wanted to ask for more details, but was stopped when the door opened.
Cal stepped into the room looking bone tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a mess.
"Dorcas! You're awake!" he said, shoulders relaxing with relief. "How do you feel?"
She considered. "Sore. There's a bit of bleeding still."
He nodded, looking to Cherry. "Thanks for sitting with her. Do you mind if I speak to my wife in private?"
"Of course," Cherry replied, standing and patting his bicep encouragingly. Cal's hand closed over hers briefly, squeezing gently.
When the door clicked shut, Cal walked to the foot of the bed.
"Are you able to move lower?"
Dorcas inched toward the edge and laid back, folding her hands over her midsection.
Cal found her ankles beneath the sheets and pushed them back against her rear, tenting the sheets with her knees.
"How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?" he asked as he disappeared from Dorcas's view.
She decided on a three and answered him. She reconsidered that number when an intense pressure suddenly stiffened every muscle below her waist.
"I'm sorry. I know that hurts," Cal replied to his wife's tensing body. "Did you know you were pregnant, Dorcas?"
Were.
That was the answer she was looking for. The news that Cherry refused to give her.
Again, she tried to decide if this was a relief or not. She knew the exact date of conception. There was no mistaking that this baby was made when Tom had posed as her husband and raped her to teach her a lesson.
But part of her mourned the possibility that it could be Cal's. Polyjuice Potion uses genetic material to magically replicate the features of a person. Tom used Cal's body against her. Still, it might have been Cal's child.
She felt herself shudder as a wave of loss crashed over her. Dorcas tried to stifle the sobs with a hand over her mouth. But she knew she was unsuccessful when the prodding below the sheets stopped and Cal emerged to stare at her.
"That was thoughtless of me, Dorcas. I'm sorry."
It wasn't lost on Dorcas the way he continued to use her first name, dispensing with the terms of endearment he usually used, like my love.
She shook her head. He shouldn't be the one apologizing.
"I only began to suspect right after the pains started," she managed to answer.
"When did you first notice them?" Cal asked, slipping again behind the healer's façade where he was more comfortable; detached physician rather than cuckolded husband.
Dorcas blinked as she tried to remember the first instance of pain.
"When I was carrying Uncle Lysander down from the library."
"How far along do you think you were? When was your last cycle?"
She knew he wouldn't have to ask if he'd been living at home with her. She saw a shadow of regret pass over his face momentarily.
"I don't remember."
Cal pulled the sheet back down over her feet and moved to her side to help her slide back up to the pillows.
"You don't appear to have been more than three or four weeks, Dorcas," Cal responded in a strangled voice.
The implication hung in the air between them.
Dorcas and Cal hadn't slept in the same bed since before the new year.
"Twenty-five days," she confirmed.
"So it was Tom's then?" he gritted his teeth as he asked.
Dorcas ducked her head so that she didn't have to look at the revulsion that was plain on his face.
"I don't know," answered Dorcas.
Cal's hands were on his hips. "What do you mean, YOU DON'T KNOW, DORCAS?"
The volume of his voice pitched louder and louder with each word.
"ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY THERE'S OTHERS?"
Dorcas felt hot tears washing her cheeks as she closed her eyes and cringed, her shoulders coming up to her ears.
This was it. She was going to tell him the one thing she was prepared to take to the grave with her. Once he knew, she didn't know how she would be able to stop him from tearing off after Tom.
"I mean, I don't know if it was your child or Tom's. He used Polyjuice Potion. I thought it was you. And then when I realized it wasn't I tried to...I don't know how I could have thought..."
She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his eyes.
At first, she thought he hadn't heard her.
His features were blank and he just stared at her.
"Are you saying Tom tricked you? That he forced you?" Cal's voice was low, coiled like a spring.
Dorcas covered her face with her hands. She couldn't hold Cal's gaze as he began to pace and tear at his hair.
"Does Jonas have a Pensieve? I want to see it. I want to see what he did."
That was the very last thing Dorcas wanted. There was not a day that would go by where she didn't carry the insult of it in her mind, her body, and her soul. But she would be damned if Cal did too.
"No."
"No?" Cal repeated. His voice was closer, but Dorcas would not remove her hands to confirm this.
"No, I don't want you to see it, Cal. He didn't hold you down, he didn't rape you. It's my experience alone. I won't have you carrying that around with you!"
She felt his fingers on her wrists. She jumped at the contact.
Gently, he pulled her hands away from her face.
"Whatever happens to you, happens to me too," Cal said.
"Promise me you won't go after him," Dorcas said, finally meeting his gaze with a steely look.
Cal inhaled, but paused. "He has to answer for hurting you, Dorcas. He can't get away with it!"
"He's immortal, Cal."
She watched as the words sank in. Cal blinked three times.
"What?" he asked.
"Tom can't be killed. I helped him to make himself immortal when we were in school. He'll kill you instead. And then, where will the girls and I be without you?"
He dropped her wrists and repeated, "He can't get away with this!"
"He will!" she insisted. "And we'll continue to live our lives."
Cal turned away from her and stalked toward the door.
"Cal, what are you doing? CAL!" Dorcas shouted.
"He's NOT going to get away with it!" Cal shouted, wrenching the door open so forcefully that the hinges protested against the wood of the door jamb.
She threw back the covers and jumped up from bed. Her legs felt weak and her nightgown was spotted with blood. She knew she would never be able to chase after him. Perhaps she could confide in Jonas in order to have some help reigning in Cal's anger.
Trying to prop herself upright on the chair beside her bed didn't work. Dorcas toppled over, slamming her shoulder to the ground. She groaned at the renewed waves of pain her fall had set off in her.
"Dorcas!"
Cal turned from the hallway and crouched at her side.
"I told you not to go!" Dorcas cried, wincing at the pain in her abdomen.
Cal nodded and lifted her into his arms, placing her back under the covers.
"You did tell me that. I'm sorry, my love! I promise I won't go!"