Sorry I was so busy, but here's snippet…
Chap. 23 Words and Their Lies
He saw a pair of feet in front of his bleary vision and he shook his head, hoping he was dreaming. Who the hell was at this time of the night, in his private corner, invading his damned property?! Of course, it was questionable whether an alleyway in the slums of London could be considered a private property of any sort. But this man was determined that this was his by right and, he thought, by the age old notion of "first come first serve" and he'd be damned if he would relinquish it readily. " 'oo the 'ell are you," he said in a drunken drawl, while hoisting his whiskey bottle as a sort of weapon. "Get outta 'ere."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," a cool, calculating voice responded mockingly from the darkness of the shadows. The man looked up to see contemptuous silver-grey eyes gazing down at him. "You see, my good man, we require a small favor from you." Through his distorted, drugged vision, he thought he saw Grey Eyes pull out a strangely-shaped gun out of his pocket and, though his brain seemed to scream at him to move, the man's reflexes were slow and clumsy. He felt a needle piercing his flesh and, fatigued and suddenly feeling slumberous, he let himself drift into darkness.
"I'm sure you could be of use to us," the voice said silkily. It was strange; the voice reminded him of a venomous snake, coaxing a timid mouse into its deadly grip. That was the man's last thought before he sank into total oblivion and the shadows that countless others had passed on the path to misery and ruin.
*******
Katherine reclined comfortably in her favorite chair as she read a book—the third in a series of seven—titled "Revenge: How to Properly Go about It in an Elegant Fashion". With a tray of tea and crumpets at her side, she smiled wickedly as she went through a rather amusing list of possible schemes and manipulations, which were guaranteed (by the author, anyway) to cause desperation and absolute anguish in the chosen victim. So engrossed was she—not very surprising, considering her sadistic nature—that she did not notice the entrance of a grey-eyed man into her extravagant villa, dragging a bedraggled, and rather limp, bundle of flesh.
"Katherine." That one word jerked her awake from her dream world where she was blissfully and gleefully torturing Eriol. "Must you always interrupt me in my wonderful daydreams, Collins?" she snapped irritably.
His mouth curved slightly at the edges. "Temper, temper," he admonished her in a faintly amused voice. "You can make your dreams a reality soon enough."
Katherine sniffed disdainfully and daintily picked up a cake with her blood-painted nails. "Let's hope so…for your sake."
In a flash, he had her by her throat and was applying severe pressure on her windpipe. With forced calm and serenity, Katherine ripped through his face with her nails; she had painted them with her special mixture of blood (from her former victims, of course) and a rare, enamel-like poison that killed any human being the moment it entered into the bloodstream.
To her startled surprise, however, he did not seem to be affected in the least; an acrid smoke escaped from the torn flesh as the bloody wounds merely healed in seconds. "Don't talk to me in that condescending way, my dear," he said in a deadpan voice. With that, he captured her lips in a cruel, lingering kiss. "I don't trust you any more than you trust me, my little clawed kitten." He released her abruptly, his eyes cold and cruel—eyes that were never-ending wells of emptiness and steel. "You'll obey your orders or die in defiance, understand? If you want your revenge, you'll have to get it my way." He walked past her as if nothing happened as she gazed at him in fear and anger.
"Damn you!" she snarled in frustration, knowing that nothing she said could penetrate that cold, impermeable armor he drew around himself like a blanket. She flung her hand out to indicate the huddled body on the velvet floor. "Why in hell did you bring him here? At least tell me that."
He blatantly ignored her and made his way toward his bedroom in a casual manner. "What is he to us? We were finished with him, weren't we?" she screamed at his retreating form. "Weren't we?!"
He spoke without turning to face her and Katherine knew that he was laughing at her, albeit silently. "There's one endearing trait that you have, Kate dearest, which could get you into serious trouble: Carelessness. You do not abandon a man who still has classified information; he could betray us to the Bow Street Runners"—she could hear the amusement in his voice—"As cruel as you are, my rebellious cat, you haven't the heart to properly dispose of one man who could ruin our plans. That's the difference between you and me; you try to avoid murder unless it's absolutely necessary. You were unable to clearly judge the threat this man poses."
She was silent. "Why didn't you kill him?" she questioned, finally. "You brought him here alive…"
"I should like to torture him. I should also like to get him into trouble with the authorities first and watch in delight as he lands in prison. But I have not time for such games."
"Then…why?"
"That is for me to know and you to find out. They say 'curiosity killed the cat'. I hope I won't have to kill you for interfering with my plans due to your curious nature. That pale skin of yours…it makes me want to destroy it…it makes me want to feel your blood running down my hands…
"I know what brought you to me, my sweet. I know that you would have been with him if he had accepted you. And I know all about your former victims. Just remember, I'm watching you."
*******
Eriol scribbled his name haphazardly across the appropriate line and threw the ink bottle into wall where it splintered into uneven fragments; black ink dripped down the pristine walls like an omen that darkness was taking over the former happiness of his life. With that same blackness, he had given his woman away; with that ink, he had made it clear that he no longer acknowledged her as a significant person in his life.
He slumped tiredly in the nearest chair and then, flinching, stood up stiffly; the plush, red chair had been one of Tomoyo's favorites. His eyes scrutinized her room and, angry, he stalked out into his own. His gaze was drawn immediately to his enormous bed—he was extremely tired—but he had to look away because memories of her lived in it. As he walked into every bedroom, ballroom, dining halls, and even the servants' kitchen, he saw ghosts of her laughing eyes and her teasing smile. She had said she wanted to free him from his unhappiness; she had lied. His house still tingled with her presence as if it could not forget her for all eternity—as if it was showing him that he, himself, could not forget her for all time.
********
The birds sang their happy, joyful songs as Tomoyo watched in fascination and intent interest. She had been living here, at this small cottage on one of Jon's country estates, since two weeks ago. He had offered her the manor for her use, but she had refused—I can't accept that, Jon. It's too much, but thank you anyway.—despite Jon's fervent insistence that she would be doing him a favor by taking using the usually unoccupied estate. Plus, he argued, there was a fleet of servants to cater to her every need and comfort; wouldn't that be better, he had asked her. And she had just refused without any sort of reconsideration.
It wasn't because she thought her friend really didn't mean for her to live in his manor; she knew that he genuinely meant what he had said. The problem wasn't him. It was she. Despite her sunny expression, she still harbored a secret pain inside; her heart was still bleeding. And she knew she couldn't go back to her old way of life, perhaps, even …never…this hurt inside of her might never heal completely. She wanted peace and shelter away from her troubles, not some immense house that would painfully remind her of all her fears and tears. She wanted to be able to think of Eriol, not as someone who scarred her for life, but as someone who had given her the greatest memories of her life. She did not regret having met him and having loved him more than herself because she knew…that if she had never known him…she would have gone through life, lost forever, and unable to know why…
Eriol, she said silently, it's hard to stay away from you; it's already draining me, my love. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stand this torment of being without you. But you are my everything…For you, I can do anything, even if it kills me to make it come true.
******
"There's always the girl," Katherine said lightly. "We can use—hurt—her to furthur torture Eriol—"
"No."
"What?" she asked, startled by his vehement disagreement. "Our purpose is to destroy Eriol, is it not? Why not use all the convenient tools at hand? He seemed to love her very much and—"
"Tomoyo will not be harmed; I will personally visit my wrath on your head if you harm her in any way. And," he paused for breath, "never tell me that THAT MAN loves her, do you understand? He doesn't love her and he has never loved her. That is the truth."
"That witch stole him from me! She needs to be punished!! It's part of my vengeance. I refuse for you to—"
"What will you do if I refuse you?" he interrupted her softly.
She was rendered speechless for a brief moment, and then she became enraged and furious. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you love her!" she screamed.
"I do."
"You've never met her, so how can you love her?"
He smiled slightly and bowed his head, causing strands of blond hair to fall into his eyes. "I have met her," he closed his eyes in remembrance, "I have met her in my past life—my first life."
"What gibberish are you speaking now?"
"It is not for you to understand."