Here we go, the penultimate (second last) chapter. Then I can get started
on the movie itself. Thanks to Elf of Avalon for pointing out my little
grammar error, I will get that fixed asap. Thanks to DoriansBabe as well
for the idea of blackmail (ahem, I'm coming to kill you.) Hope this is
worth waiting for, it's revenge time *rolls up sleeves and licks lips*. On
with the show again, ~*Skaye.
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF GORE, HORROR AND YUCKY STUFF. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.
Feb 7th
AM Dear Diary, it appears that revenge has slipped down my list of priorities. Way down. It is a shame as I now feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I am amazed and repulsed anew every time my thoughts slip back to bloody revenge so easily. It is becoming second nature to me. This is currently irrelevant. The issue at stake here is that I am at Dorian's house, it is morning and he is gone. Again. Can I just go one day without a terrible flaw in judgement? Probably not. Not around him at least.
He returned home at around lunchtime looking exceptionally pleased with himself so I was instantly suspicious. He is the type of man who takes great pleasure in doing this to people so he spent the whole afternoon grinning like the Cheshire Cat and dropping cryptic little hints about a gift. He finally invited me to dinner this evening and, having seen him acting like this al day I feel I simply must see what he has done. It will be back at his house at nine and he said wear red. So I will wear black. Childish, yes, but I have not forgiven him and little things like this really get to him.
PM Dear Diary, this evening was...how can I possibly sum it up? I won't. It's impossible. I haven't even decided how to react yet. Maybe writing it out will help to straighten my mind out. God, I wish I could figure this out, my mind is a maelstrom.
It began promisingly enough, I arrived at Dorian's house ten minutes late wearing black (naturally) and went to his dining room. He was sitting quite patiently listening to a piece of piano and cello music on a gramophone (ghastly scratchy machines.) Dinner was served shortly, a kind of light soup followed by rare steak with salad and flat bread. The wine looked curious until I realised it was blood. Human blood kept warm and served to me. I was suspicious, why would Dorian be so...thoughtful? He looked on the verge of smiling all evening but kept his sneer in place until dessert (trifle laced with yet more blood) was finished. Then over coffee, conversation began.
"So, Mina," he said, casually, "How has your life been progressing this last week or so."
I scowled, could he possibly know about my recent redundancy? It wasn't impossible, he did have connections with Langsdale. Better to just be honest.
"I lost my job. Because of you. Because you could not keep your mouth shut in front of your foolish gentlemen friends."
He raised his eyebrows a little and feigned a look of sympathy. It made me want to hit him. Maybe a bloody revenge is not such a remote possibility.
"That pompous ass probably couldn't see your dazzling potential, darling."
"Dazzling potential? I have no dazzling potential and if you call me that once more I will tear off your head and send it to those same idiot gentlemen friends that cost me my job."
He grinned a little. "I'm sure that will be a valuable lesson for me." I paled at the implications of his words. It had to be coincidence. It just had to be coincidence. "What did you say?"
"About dazzling potential?" he continued casually, "Well it's really rather obvious when you know..."
"I didn't mean that, about the valuable lesson." I was becoming nervous. If this meant what I thought it meant, it was trouble.
"Well I think I quoted correctly, let me check." And to my horror, he pulled out a torn page of my diary. This very diary in which I write. "It says 'Perhaps I could kill him instead, send his severed head to his wife along with a note saying...'"
"Stop, what have you done? What in Gods name have you DONE, Dorian?" I was panicking by now, eyes red, fangs bared and he was loving it. He shrugged and tucked the piece of paper into his pocket.
"Exactly what your 'Dear Diary' said, darling. And more."
I felt sick. "You monster," I breathed, "You murdered an innocent man."
He stayed cool and shrugged, "At least I don't drink them."
"I didn't drink Langsdale, I only do when I must."
"That's what you think."
I was puzzled for a second then reality hit and I nearly wretched. I turned incredibly pale and stumbled backwards a little.
"You didn't..." I said faintly.
His smile said plainly that he did and furthermore that he would do it again. He raised a glass to me in a kind of sarcastic toast.
"It is only a beneficial tragedy, my love, sweet sorrow."
I couldn't stand it, I leapt at him, and fangs bared looked to his throat. I wanted to do this for so long. My teeth ripped through his skin easily and blood gushed free. He screamed. Not for long. I already knew at the time that it would not kill him. I stepped back to leave him bleeding on the floor and, my head now icily clear, an idea hit me. I paced backwards to his gramophone and put on a new disk. The training Jonathan gave me for helping him work would not go entirely unused. I pressed the recording button just as Dorian got to his feet, furious now. He seemed invulnerable to pain as well, more's the pity. He would be easy to trick in this state. Perfect.
"Dorian," I said, coolly, "Did you kill Dr Langsdale and send his head to his wife with a note with my name attached?"
"Yes," he yelled, mopping blood from his neck as it healed, "That was why I was gone all morning you asinine woman." I stopped the disk from recording without him ever noticing and slipped it under my coat
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF GORE, HORROR AND YUCKY STUFF. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.
Feb 7th
AM Dear Diary, it appears that revenge has slipped down my list of priorities. Way down. It is a shame as I now feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I am amazed and repulsed anew every time my thoughts slip back to bloody revenge so easily. It is becoming second nature to me. This is currently irrelevant. The issue at stake here is that I am at Dorian's house, it is morning and he is gone. Again. Can I just go one day without a terrible flaw in judgement? Probably not. Not around him at least.
He returned home at around lunchtime looking exceptionally pleased with himself so I was instantly suspicious. He is the type of man who takes great pleasure in doing this to people so he spent the whole afternoon grinning like the Cheshire Cat and dropping cryptic little hints about a gift. He finally invited me to dinner this evening and, having seen him acting like this al day I feel I simply must see what he has done. It will be back at his house at nine and he said wear red. So I will wear black. Childish, yes, but I have not forgiven him and little things like this really get to him.
PM Dear Diary, this evening was...how can I possibly sum it up? I won't. It's impossible. I haven't even decided how to react yet. Maybe writing it out will help to straighten my mind out. God, I wish I could figure this out, my mind is a maelstrom.
It began promisingly enough, I arrived at Dorian's house ten minutes late wearing black (naturally) and went to his dining room. He was sitting quite patiently listening to a piece of piano and cello music on a gramophone (ghastly scratchy machines.) Dinner was served shortly, a kind of light soup followed by rare steak with salad and flat bread. The wine looked curious until I realised it was blood. Human blood kept warm and served to me. I was suspicious, why would Dorian be so...thoughtful? He looked on the verge of smiling all evening but kept his sneer in place until dessert (trifle laced with yet more blood) was finished. Then over coffee, conversation began.
"So, Mina," he said, casually, "How has your life been progressing this last week or so."
I scowled, could he possibly know about my recent redundancy? It wasn't impossible, he did have connections with Langsdale. Better to just be honest.
"I lost my job. Because of you. Because you could not keep your mouth shut in front of your foolish gentlemen friends."
He raised his eyebrows a little and feigned a look of sympathy. It made me want to hit him. Maybe a bloody revenge is not such a remote possibility.
"That pompous ass probably couldn't see your dazzling potential, darling."
"Dazzling potential? I have no dazzling potential and if you call me that once more I will tear off your head and send it to those same idiot gentlemen friends that cost me my job."
He grinned a little. "I'm sure that will be a valuable lesson for me." I paled at the implications of his words. It had to be coincidence. It just had to be coincidence. "What did you say?"
"About dazzling potential?" he continued casually, "Well it's really rather obvious when you know..."
"I didn't mean that, about the valuable lesson." I was becoming nervous. If this meant what I thought it meant, it was trouble.
"Well I think I quoted correctly, let me check." And to my horror, he pulled out a torn page of my diary. This very diary in which I write. "It says 'Perhaps I could kill him instead, send his severed head to his wife along with a note saying...'"
"Stop, what have you done? What in Gods name have you DONE, Dorian?" I was panicking by now, eyes red, fangs bared and he was loving it. He shrugged and tucked the piece of paper into his pocket.
"Exactly what your 'Dear Diary' said, darling. And more."
I felt sick. "You monster," I breathed, "You murdered an innocent man."
He stayed cool and shrugged, "At least I don't drink them."
"I didn't drink Langsdale, I only do when I must."
"That's what you think."
I was puzzled for a second then reality hit and I nearly wretched. I turned incredibly pale and stumbled backwards a little.
"You didn't..." I said faintly.
His smile said plainly that he did and furthermore that he would do it again. He raised a glass to me in a kind of sarcastic toast.
"It is only a beneficial tragedy, my love, sweet sorrow."
I couldn't stand it, I leapt at him, and fangs bared looked to his throat. I wanted to do this for so long. My teeth ripped through his skin easily and blood gushed free. He screamed. Not for long. I already knew at the time that it would not kill him. I stepped back to leave him bleeding on the floor and, my head now icily clear, an idea hit me. I paced backwards to his gramophone and put on a new disk. The training Jonathan gave me for helping him work would not go entirely unused. I pressed the recording button just as Dorian got to his feet, furious now. He seemed invulnerable to pain as well, more's the pity. He would be easy to trick in this state. Perfect.
"Dorian," I said, coolly, "Did you kill Dr Langsdale and send his head to his wife with a note with my name attached?"
"Yes," he yelled, mopping blood from his neck as it healed, "That was why I was gone all morning you asinine woman." I stopped the disk from recording without him ever noticing and slipped it under my coat
