Ok, so shoot me. One of those pieces that come to you suddenly months after you've finished the actual story took hold of me and demanded to be written. As I had thought my muse on permanent vacation, I welcome this bit of oddness.
What Happened to the Duke
There are any number of my kind who have...how shall I put this...gone feral? It's easy really. The condition which affects me, that gives me long life but takes away the sun, that gives me eternal youth but forces me to drink blood to exist, also takes away, in varying degrees my humanity.
Keeping my link to my sister's descendants gave me both a purpose and a connection to humanity that few of my fellows can maintain. While others slowly loose there family and friends and become outsiders in the human world, I stayed in contact with my sister and then with her children and theirs, and so on. The necessity of shepherding them through famine and war, stupidity and inbreeding, saved me from loosing my essential self. That's not to say I have not changed over the years, that cannot be helped, but I have not given in to my darker impulses. For the most part.
I left Christian alone with Satine that night. She would not rise until the following night so I had nothing to worry about on that score. He obviously wanted to be alone to mourn. Toulouse could be counted on to sit there completely unobtrusive and keep watch so our impulsive poet could not turn into Romeo and follow his ladylove to the grave.
Outside the Rouge, hundreds, nay thousands of footprints of the delighted playgoers marred the new snow. Truly they had seen something 'Spectacular'; they just did not know how spectacular it truly was. Zidler would keep the story out of the papers at least until morning. I took a deep breath and could literally smell the excitement and happiness of the audience. Each falling snowflake held a tiny spark of joy at having seen something truly wonderful. With a terrible ache in my heart I knew that these few hundred had been given a priceless, once-in-a-lifetime gift, gift that thousands, no millions should have shared in had been destroyed by a tiny organism and one man's childish greed.
That was when I sensed it. Amid the dancing flakes was a single dark trail of anger and defeat. It was so strong I half wondered why the snow did not melt along the path laid down by rage and vengeful thoughts. Oh yes, the one person who did not enjoy the show. The Duke.
The Duke. Without him my beautiful Satine would not have had to live a double life and hide her illness. There would have been a chance to treat her. If not for him my darling Christian would have had not only his successful play, but also dozens of others, and books too. This creature had destroyed my plans with his childish greed.
Stretching out with my senses, sight, smell, and that faint tang of evil thought I could almost taste, it was simple to find the Duke's trail. His mansion was enormous and in a fashionable district just as one would expect. What I had not expected was its proximity to my home - just two houses away. A moment's investigation located the servants' entrance and I slipped past the few that lingered in those precincts with a gesture, a word or a glance that insured that all of them could truthfully say that they saw no one enter the house.
I heard him long before I saw him. The door to a well appointed library stood ajar and the Duke paced within. He strode up and down the rich brown carpet gesturing to the air. In one hand he held a snifter half full of brandy in the other a piece of paper that he waved back and forth to accentuate his argument in spite of the fact that he was alone.
"The gall! The unmitigated gall! To claim her before them all, right in front of me! How dare he humiliate me in such a fashion! I'll ruin them; I'll ruin them both! Not only will I take Zidler's beloved Moulin, when I'm done he won't be able to own so much as a street cart! And that wretched boy! English writer my ass! Not only will his play never show again, neither will anything else he ever writes, and he'll never publish a word, not here or anywhere!" He spun on his heel and flung the glass into the fireplace. The glass shattered like a bomb and a great wave of flame shot up over the mantle, leaving a trail of black soot and blistered varnish.
With all the time I've been granted the one thing I've learned is when to make my entrance. I walked in right on cue. "I don't think so." The room, on closer inspection appeared to be a game room, a pool table and card table in immaculate condition filled one end of the room, while two leather armchairs flanked the fireplace. I helped myself to a glass of brandy, and seated myself in one of the chairs.
The Duke's eyes bulged in astonishment and then narrowed with rage. "Who are you? Leave my house at once!"
I took a sip of the brandy - it was quite excellent "At the risk of repeating myself, I don't think so." Smiling up at him calmly I set the glass on the table and crossed my legs.
"You have no right to barge into some one's home in the middle of the night sir. I insist you leave, now." He turned to the doorway and called out, " Warner!"
"Ah, I wondered if you'd left that thug behind at the theatre or brought him home. Thank you for informing me." I turned to watch the door and sure enough, the man came scurrying in. Had I not be so angry I would have found it humorous to see such a bulky man scurry. I sighed, took another sip of my drink, and rose to my feet.
"Warner, show this...gentleman to the door." The Duke sneered. Warner smiled in anticipation and advanced on me with the enthusiasm of one who loves his work.
I waited until he reached my side and started to take my arm, "Right this wa- " Cutting him off in mid-sentence, I spun him to face me and kicked him in the balls, feeling a definite tearing as the toe of my boot connected with his flesh. His sentence ended in a groan and he toppled slowly to his side, clutched his injured groin.
Smiling I reached down and patted him on the head, "You'll wait right there for me won't you?" He groaned again and I nodded, "Good lad." Straightening I spun and pinned the Duke with a glare. "Now that that bit of unpleasantness is out of the way, shall we get down to business?"
The Duke's eyes shifted nervously from Warner to me, and fear flickered across his face. "Very well sir, what business do you have with me in the middle of the night?"
I grinned and resumed my seat, "Ahh, good. I hoped you would be reasonable." I could not help a small chuckle, "To be truthful, I hoped you would be completely unreasonable, but I'm adaptable."
Watching me carefully, he sidled over and seated himself in the other chair. "That is yet to be seen. What is it you want from me?"
"Three simple acts are all I require of you. To cancel your plans for Zidler and our penniless poet, give Zidler back his deed and do nothing else. Leave Paris and never return." Finishing off my drink I stood and walked to the fireplace, examining a very nice set of miniature painting decorating the mantle.
He nearly exploded with fury. His hands gripped the arms so hard if the chair had been cloth it would have torn and he lifted himself partway from the chair with just his arms. His skin took on a terrible red mottled look and his eyes bulged like those of a frog. I could barely contain my mirth. "You are a madman sir!" He fairly shrieked at me, "I will do no such thing! How do you know what has transpired between..." His voice trailed off as he truly focused on my face. "The boy, you are some relation of the boy!"
I nodded, letting a small chuckle escape my lips. Odd that no one at the Moulin had recognized our resemblance. My hair is the same color and my mouth and chin the same shape, though no one has eyes the color of Christian's, they are uniquely his own. "Yes, he is my nephew, a few generations removed to be sure, but still blood ties us together." I put my hands together behind my back and paced before the fire. "Which makes his happiness my paramount concern." Facing him again, I pinned him with a stare that allowed no argument.
Apparently his desire for revenge knew no bounds for he stood, even under the force of my gaze, and firmed his jaw. "Never. That boy stole what was rightfully mine and Zidler aided him covered for him and stole from ME! His voice rose indignantly and his mouth thinned in determination.
"That is your final say, you will not change your mind?" I gestured to the man on the floor who had barely moved since he fell. "Even with the example I've provided you with?"
"Absolutely not!" He quivered with suppressed rage, "She made me believe that she loved me! Zidler promised her to me, and that worthless boy stole her from me! They will spend their lives paying for what they have done if I have my way!" He stood firm, I have to give him credit for that.
I shook my head, chuckling softly, "You are the oldest child I have ever met." In the blink of an eye I closed the distance between us and wrapped one hand around his throat. I gave him my full smile, the one that revealed what no living person had ever seen. Horror and terrible comprehension filled his eyes. I ran my tongue over one noticeably longer eyetooth. "I hate to tell you this, but I'm not really a human being. As such, my emotions are not that of a normal man. If I was, I might feel a tiny bit of sympathy for you, you were used by Zidler to a certain extent. But I've learned to focus my emotions over the years, and I'd say you have given back ten-fold what you got since the courtesan is dead."
His mouth trembled and he licked his lips, trying I could imagine, to work some saliva onto his tongue. "Dead?" He whispered.
"Yes, working on the play, living in squalor, keeping you happy was too much for her. So there will be no more Spectacular, Spectacular, the Moulin will fold regardless, and my nephew's heart is broken." I might have let him go as I saw the disbelief in his eyes, but the next words out of his mouth condemned him.
"I'm glad, the duplicitous whore got what she deserved." He sneered.
I tightened my hand under his chin and lifted him off his feet as I laughed, "Thank you my dear Duke, I almost thinking I should go easy on you for a moment." He squealed and kicked his feet, eyes bulging with fear. I shook my head in disappointment. "I did warn you." Lowering him to the ground, I set him gently in one of the chairs and held down one of his hands. Grinning, I turned my head to meet his eyes as I broke the first finger. "Do you know how many bones there are in the human body?" I asked over the sound of his screams. He gibbered, unable to actually speak, "I did not think so. Not to worry, I won't break them all; if I did that it would likely kill you. And I'm quite fastidious about the blood I drink- I never drink from the dead."