Author: Lucinda

Rating: pg/pg13

Second in Bohemian Scandals

Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), and Drusilla

Disclaimer: Spike belongs to Joss Whedon; Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle.

Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Quickfics anyone else please ask.

Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of a Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece).





Her husband, Godfrey Norton, had been unsettled about something for perhaps a week. It had been making him short tempered, snappish, both towards the servants and at Irene. It had dated precisely to the day that the legal firm he was a partner of had accepted James Travers as one of their clients. She'd heard very little about him, but apparently, Mister Travers was from just outside of London, and was some sort of scholar in history and languages. Nothing in the descriptions that she'd heard gave any explanation for her husband's unease, but... But it dated from his first meeting with Travers. Every time he spoke with the man, his mood was fouler than the night before. How could the two things not be connected?

Irene considered asking him to drop Travers from the list of clients, but knew that it would not happen. Considering the utter certainty that they would keep Travers among their clients regardless of anything short of red-handed murder, Irene said nothing. There was no point in having her worries dismissed as mere womanly nerves. It was more likely since she had nothing to explain things. Just her husband's foul mood, her own unease, and a feeling, as if something bad were looming in the future. Her grandmother had tried to claim the gift of prescience, of seeing the future, claiming that it was a gift that ran in the family, a token of a gypsy great grandmother. But nobody would take such a claim seriously.

No, nothing would change until disaster struck. And she was certain that it would. But she was at a total loss as to what form, or why. Travers was prosperous, but had no title or major debts that she'd been able to discretely discover. His son was away at the university in Cambridge. Travers didn't work for the British government, or any other nation's government. He only had moderate investments in anything, certainly not enough to draw wrath upon his head. But she still had the feeling that trouble would befall them, and it would somehow be the fault or influence of Travers.

Perhaps she should have considered more carefully when Godfrey suggested the evening walk. Considering her uncle, it wasn't as if she was entirely unknowing of the dangers in the darkness. But she had hoped to strengthen her marriage, to soothe her husband's mood. And so, having grabbed a bonnet, they left the house, walking along the river. Bath was lovely by moonlight, and there were the faint noises of insects, the hooting of an owl, and the sound of something harshly breathing behind them...

Irene spun around, clutching at her skirts in the hopes that she would be able to flee. There was a... thing standing there in the moonlight. Nearly half again the height of a man, it's body was covered with scales like a serpent, and it had a single horn emerging from it's forehead, almost like a rhinoceros from the menagerie. She couldn't breath, couldn't scream, and her terror held her rooted in place. Uncle William had warned her that demons were real. With a deep growl, it lashed out at her husband, dark talons ripping his chest open, spraying blood into the night, filling the air with its scent. As if the blood had dissolved some lock, Irene screamed, and spun around, trying to flee. She barely got more than a few steps before she felt the back of her dress part, and fiery pain blossomed in lines over her back.

The ground was hard, and smelled faintly damp, but it was a natural scent, not the scent of her husband's blood. There was another noise, almost like a pair of roaring leopards, and something distracted the demon, kept it from finishing her off like it had poor Godfrey. She tried to hold to awareness, but her head was throbbing now, pulsing as if it and not her heart was responsible for sending her blood rushing through her veins.

"Reenie?" She knew that voice, even though it sounded as if it was coming from far away. "Damn it, Reenie, are you still here?"

It seemed to take an awful amount of effort to speak, and she couldn't quite manage to move. "Uncle William? There was a demon..."

All of a sudden, the world shifted, and the ground wasn't under her anymore. She was being held in someone's arms, as if she weighed no more than a small child. It made her back sting more, and a tiny whimper emerged. She felt cold, and couldn't quite think clearly.

She didn't know how much time had passed, with darkness swirling over her, occasionally thinning enough that she could hear her uncle talking with a woman, someone that he called Dru. Must be his ladylove, Drusilla. She could almost understand them, but it seemed like too much effort right now.

"Reenie? I need you to invite Dru inside. We're trying to help you." Her uncle's words were slow and clear, as if he was making extra effort.

She felt like she blinked, but everything was still black and the sounds muffled. "Drusilla... Welcome to my house."

The next thing that Irene was clear on, she was laying on her stomach in her bed. Her gown and under-things had been removed, and someone was smoothing a cool salve over her back. The slashes burned and itched, sending the memory of the attack crashing back at her. "My husband is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, pretty, your poor knight has fallen. The nasty thing hit him, and there were patterns everywhere, screaming of death and suffering. But I don't know why... your knight couldn't have done anything." A woman's voice, slightly lilting, her tone calm, almost peaceful. As if she was discussing a story from a book...

"This is Travers' fault. My husband's firm took a new client, and I was certain that he would bring trouble..." Irene gasped for breath, the pain suddenly intense as the cool fingers his the edge of the rip. "I just couldn't find any reason why someone would go after James Travers."

"Because he is a nasty man, always leaving eyes where they should not be. Shame on him. My sweet William can explain it better, but you are not ready for company yet. We shall get you dressed, and then I shall have your little maid bring up tea. She's a pretty pet, all big eyes and trembling like a leaf..." There was a pause, as if the woman was considering the servants. "But we won't hurt your servants. Mustn't disrupt things more than they already are."

Drusilla wrapped bandages over the wounds, and then helped her into a dressing gown. From there, she found herself carried by the dark hared woman with the too bright dark eyes into her sitting room. Uncle William was pacing, a slender cigar in one hand as he scowled at the curtains.

"My sweet, explain why someone would want to hurt the nasty man. Too many unwelcome eyes..." Drusilla actually hissed then, like a cat, flexing her fingers into curves. "I will go fetch the tea."

Irene looked at her uncle, feeling exhausted by simple being awake. "This is because of James Travers, isn't it? He recently became a client of the legal firm. I've had a bad feeling about it, but I couldn't find anything to justify it."

"James Travers runs the Council of Watchers. Bunch of stuffy fellows keeping books on demons and vampires, trying to keep a short rein on the Slayer. A girl who has special abilities, and goes hunting for the monsters." William was scowling, his eyes flickering from blue to gold to blue again. "It sounds like... Damn it Reenie, I hate to say it, but it sounds like your husband was killed to get to Travers."

Irene felt faint, but she wasn't certain if it was from the news, or from her injuries. "Kills vampires? Are you safe here?"

"Pretty safe, considering the current one's supposed to be over in France somewhere. And there are ways... But that's not a conversation for now. It's pure luck that we were here at the right time, else you'd be dead as well." He ran his hand through light brown hair.

"We shall stay long enough for you to get all better." Drusilla's voice floated over. "I brought the tea, with a little pitcher of cream, and wedges of lemon. Do not worry, lovey, we will stay, and I will teach you how to listen to the stars, the pretty pictures they send you. No more guessing and bad feelings, but clear pictures."

"Dru, luv, what do you mean? Does Reenie... is she having visions?" William looked worried.

"Not yet. They are all blurry and far away. I shall have to teach her how to listen, and then it will all be clear to her. That's her destiny, you know." Drusilla nodded, settling the tray on the small table, her hands running over her green gown, smoothing the wrinkles away. "Shall I pour?"

"Please do. I think it would pull on the... injuries if I did." Irene was trying to make sense of the world again. Her husband had been killed by a demon that had a grudge against James Travers. Travers was part of a group that observed and carefully hunted vampires. William and Drusilla would be staying for a while, and Dru said that she was prescient. "So many changes..."

"Everything changes, pretty. But if you listen, you hear it whispering from around the corner. Scritch, scratch... change is coming. A long road ahead of you, pretty." Dru nodded, as if agreeing with herself about something.

Irene shivered just a little, remembering what William had once told her. His love had been driven half mad by her visions. Would the same happen to her? She was almost afraid to wonder about it.

"You won't be alone in the world. You're family, Irene." William's voice was soft, but filled with determination.

She managed a weak smile. "I wouldn't want to be alone."

End Scandalous Connections