Darkness Rising
A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I own Jeffrey, Roland, Julian, Susannah, Emily, pretty much every character *but* SJ. Wanna trade?
Cast: Sands/Jeffrey-Johnny Depp Roland Rivers-Julian Sands, freaky coincidental hybrid name! Emily Brisbane-Nicole Kidman Susannah Cartwright-Ashley Judd Julian Manchester-Jude Law
Author's Note: Um.......this chapter got a little, actually a lot.......LONG. You can thank/blame Halia and Neon Daises for that one. They wouldn't let me stop writing!!
Rating: R for naughty language, a smut scene much, much later on, and violent graphic imagery.
Chapter Ten: Seething Shadows and Breathing Lies
"Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies . . .Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!" –The Phantom of the Opera
'I don't like this fucking place,' Jeffrey complained upon waking up in the strange bed in one of the many guestrooms of Julian's estate. Sands didn't answer; he seemed to be still asleep. Julian rolled his eyes but decided that he might as not bother to wake Sands up and make use of the opportunity to be in control for a little while without Sands whining in the background. He grimaced when he came to the piles of clean, new clothes that Sands had ordered before he had gone to bed. 'He has got to fucking get over with this obsession with black. It's getting annoying.'
His eyes narrowed to see a small piece of paper laid gently on top of the piles of clothes. He picked it up, and held it out in front of him to read it. It was a note from one of the many servants that seemed to flock about this place telling him that breakfast was at 7 sharp. The note bewildered him a bit longer, how had a servant managed to sneak into the room without either of them hearing? They definitely had to work on that or they would end up caught. He frowned and glanced over to the bedside table at the small clock there. 6:45, not a whole lot of time to get ready for breakfast, but he'd make it. He didn't have the impulsive daily morning shower routine that Sands did. He'd taken one last night before going to sleep, and he could take another one this afternoon if he needed it.
With a martyred sigh, he dressed in the black ensemble that Sands had chosen for them to wear today. He then combed his fingers though his sleep- mussed hair and made his way downstairs to where he assumed the kitchen to be. "This house is like a fucking maze," he muttered under his breath. "Not even our parents' mansion was this bad. Now granted, its appearance was improved greatly when it burned to the ground, but it still wasn't this bad." He eventually resorted to following his nose, and made his way to the large kitchen on the scent of fresh baked something or other. Jeffrey didn't know what it was, and he didn't care, but God it smelled wonderful.
"Good morning, Sands," Julian called out from his place at the breakfast table, the local newspaper propped up in front of his face and a cup of steaming coffee at his side.
"Wrong guy, so sorry. Sands is still asleep," Jeffrey commented offhandedly as he helped himself to a plate of nearly everything Julian's chef had to offer, his hand drawn immediately to the fresh blueberry muffins. It had been their scent that had led him to the kitchen.
Julian blinked, folding his paper down at his side. Had he said what he thought he had said? "What do you mean Sands is asleep? You're Sands. Aren't you?" he began to look unsure of himself.
"No, I'm Jeffrey, come out to play. We were never properly introduced. I'm Jeffrey, Sands' better half. Well his more psychotic half anyway. He's the sociopath and I'm the psychopath. It's rather a unique arrangement actually. Anyway, I don't fucking like you; I just have to put up with you. And even then, I may decide I don't want to put up with you any longer, and just kill you. But it's a risk that you're going to have to take, I'm afraid."
Julian had set his paper down at his side by now, his coffee growing cold at his side, and stared unblinking at Jeffrey who took a seat across from him at the table and began eating his muffin. In truth, he had gone to bed last night hoping that all of it had been a horrible nightmare. Not only was what happened real, but the worst of it was now sitting across from him devouring a blueberry muffin. "You're Jeffrey, not Sands?" he asked slowly, staring at the man.
Jeffrey looked up and a part of Julian wished he looked somehow different than Sands. Because other than the attitude and voice, there was nothing he could use to tell the difference between the two of them. Not that there should have been, they were the same person, after all. God, just thinking about it made his head hurt. "Have you got something in your ears, fuckmoook? I just told you that Sands is still asleep. Don't ask me how that's possible, I don't have a fucking clue, and I don't care. I'm taking advantage of that fact," he looked down at the muffin he was currently holding. "The bastard probably doesn't even like blueberry muffins," he grumbled.
"This is bloody surreal. You're a completely different person," Julian mused to himself, trying to wrap his mind around what was sitting right in front of him.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes, not bothering to waste his time on an answer to such an obviously stupid question. Suddenly, his awareness shifted as he felt Sands waking up. It was a rather unique experience, to say the least. "Fuck, he stirs," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, causing Julian to cast a confused eye toward him.
"What did you say?" Julian asked, watching as Jeffrey shook his head sharply.
"Fuck, I take it I didn't exactly sleepwalk down here?" Sands asked upon seeing Julian sitting across from him at the table and noticing the half- eaten muffin in his hand. "Jeffrey, you bastard. Had yourself a little breakfast without me, huh?" he muttered, frowning as he set the muffin down. He didn't even like blueberry muffins. "Good morning, Julian. Did you and Jeffrey have a nice chat?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.
"Sands?" Julian asked timidly.
"Who else would it be? Don't answer that," Sands hastened to add. "Yes it's me. So, what's on the agenda today?"
Julian scowled, not even bothering to hope that Sands would just leave after one night. He was stuck with the bastard, for better or worse. "Do you know Finlay McGovern?" he asked.
"Sir Finlay McGovern? Of course I know him. I'm schizophrenic, not stupid. He's only one of the richest men on the east coast, present company notwithstanding. He's throwing a party tonight, correct? Some kind of old- fashioned masquerade ball. I had originally intended on going for appearance sake if nothing else before my current predicament came about. Why do you ask?"
'Wait a minute, you didn't tell me this. What party, I'm not going to any fucking boring party,' Jeffrey spoke up. Sands told him to shut up under his breath.
"Because that's where I'll be tonight," Julian sighed slowly, "I assume you and.......Jeffrey are going to tag along?"
"Oh fuck no. You two are not dragging me to any hoity toity party. I'd rather have my hands smashed to bloodied bits with a sledgehammer than go to something like that," Jeffrey said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest.
Sands uncrossed his arms and glared. "You don't have a choice. And those are my hands you're talking about smashing too, you know. So just put up and shut up," Sands said firmly. Jeffrey took over again and scowled but didn't say anything further.
"I think I need a drink," Julian said, running a hand wearily across his face.
"He's starting to get obsessed, Sus, trust me on this. He dragged our asses all the way here to Baltimore and he doesn't even have a real lead on Sands yet. And aren't we supposed to be in DC for another couple of days of boring meetings? Langley is not going to be happy about this," Emily was aware she didn't sound like her normal self, but she didn't care. On any other circumstance she might have been overjoyed to get out of the tedium of some of the assignments the CIA sent her on, but this was not one of those times. Roland was beginning to lose it, and she could see it happening before her eyes if Susannah couldn't. All he seemed to care about any more was catching Sands. The fact that he was going after him for Yvette's death in the first place no longer seemed to concern him. He hadn't even attempted to find out where Sands had hid her body, for God's sake.
"I understand what you're telling me, Emily," Susannah said as she unpacked her suitcase on the bed of the Baltimore Marriott. "But I agree with Roland on this one. Sands needs to be stopped or more people are going to die. I can't just sit around in DC in meetings all day with that hanging over my head, I just can't."
"And when did you start calling him Roland, Susannah? You're not making the mistake of letting him get to you, are you? No, you're too smart for that. You know what kind of man he is as well as I do. He's married for God's sake. I've met his wife. She's a lovely woman who's definitely too smart to be married to such an ass as him. I have absolutely no idea what she sees in him. I asked her to tell me what he did to get her to marry him, but she just laughed and said he had been himself. What the hell kind of answer is that? I've seen how he acts when he's just being himself, and I wouldn't touch him let alone marry him."
"How did things ever get so bad between you two, Emily? You never told me. And don't give some line about how you're simply standing up for Yvette and the way he treated her. We both know Yvette's taste in men. If they were breathing and at least moderately good looking, she'd sleep with them in a heartbeat. Maybe you've forgotten that. So this thing between you and Roland has got to be something else. What is it, Emily? Why are you constantly at each other's throats all the time? Because frankly, it's beginning to wear on my nerves."
"Don't change the fucking subject on me, Susannah. This isn't about me and him. It's about you. What happened to you? Before all of this started you didn't even think about breaking the rules. And now you're following in River's footsteps like you're some kind of lost dog. Are you his bitch now, is that it? Yvette's replacement?" Emily was cut off as Susannah slapped her forcefully across the cheek, the sound ringing in the now silent room. "That was out of line, I'm sorry," Emily said quietly, not bothering to finger the now red handprint across her face.
"You're damn right, it was. But we've been friends since training, Emily. I'd be foolish to let something like this come between us," she sighed and sat down heavily on one of the two beds that took up the majority of the space in the small hotel room. "But maybe you're right. I have been letting Roland; Agent Rivers get to me lately. I don't know what it is. It's something about this case.......it gives me the creeps, Em. And I'm not the type to get the creeps."
"I know. I feel the same way," Emily said, sitting down on the opposite bed, the palm print still blazing brightly on her left cheek. Susannah winced as she saw it.
"Let me get you some ice for your face," she said, standing up to get the ice bucket, her pervious anger non-existent.
"Don't bother. I deserved it. We do need to talk about Rivers though. Something's different about him lately. I think this case is getting to him. First Sands killed his lover," she suppressed a wince to say that, "and then Sands killed Mrs. Sprout while on the phone with him. I think he feels responsible for what happened."
"I think you're right," Susannah said softly, sinking back onto the bed.
Roland sat at the small table in his single hotel room and cleaned his .357 with a single-minded determination. It would no doubt have to be used in the future, and he wanted no chance of it failing him when he needed it most. An agent in the field had to rely on his weapon, and it had to rely on him to keep it working smoothly. He had to treat it as an extension of his arm, otherwise he would no doubt hesitate in the final moment, and that was how careless agents ended up dead. He sat there cleaning and oiling every moving part of the gun, thinking about it and his purpose right now. His vision had become narrowed to only one thought; he had to catch Sands.
He closed his eyes briefly as he finished cleaning his gun, hearing Marta's screams echoing in his ears. He had gotten her killed by taunting Sands.......hadn't he? A part of him insisted that Sands would have killed her anyway without his intervention, but the rest of him screamed out that he was responsible. That he had pushed Sands over the edge. This was irrational and he knew it, Sands had been pushed over the edge long before Roland had even known he had existed, but he couldn't help feeling that way, and it was starting to piss him off.
"Damn you, you bastard for making me feel this way," Roland muttered to the empty room. Before this case had come along, he had prided himself on his detachment from his work. He had been able to go through his days nearly without a lick of guilt for anything he had done. It had caused many of his harsher critics to label him as a sociopath, but that wasn't true. He had felt guilt for some of the things he had done; he simply couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it. At least, not until now.
He grunted in frustration and put away the now oil-soiled rags cloth he used to routinely clean his gun with, and replaced the .357 back in the holster at his belt. He then pulled on the dark suit coat he had laid across the bed and after turning to lock the door he made his way across the hall to where Susannah and Emily were staying.
"Come in," a voice called before his raised hand even had a chance to knock. He frowned and opened the door.
"I could hear your lumbering gait coming all the way down the hall," Emily muttered when he sent her a questioning look.
Roland pointedly ignored that and spoke, "I think I might have an idea where Sands might go next. We're going by the theory that he met up with someone he knows here in Baltimore, correct?" he waited as Susannah and Emily, albeit grudgingly, nodded. "The only person I've been able to come up with who even knows Sands is a man by the name of Julian Manchester. He and Sands apparently went to school together."
"Wait a minute, *the* Julian Manchester? And this just keeps getting better and better. Or should I say richer and richer. Julian Manchester is one of the richest most eligible bachelors on the east coast," Emily hummed approvingly. "What? Have you seen a picture of him? He's hot. Not quite sex- on-a-stick like our darling psychotic Sands is, damn it, but definitely beddable."
Roland coughed at that and went on, "That's not all. From what I've heard from the few alumni I've managed to track down, it was widely speculated that Mr. Manchester was suspected in having an affair with one of his professors. And that Sands had blackmailed him with a set of rather revealing photographs. There was never any proof, but knowing what I do now about Sands, it wouldn't surprise me. But that's my best guess on where Sands is now. We can head over to the Manchester Estate right now and check for ourselves, but something tells me we won't find anything even if he had been there."
"If Julian Manchester is as rich as you say he is, Emily then I think I know where he'll be tonight," Susannah supplied. "Tonight's Halloween. We just have to find out where the biggest and fanciest party in town is tonight, and it's a good chance he'll be there. I wouldn't be surprised if Sands made an appearance too, knowing his social status."
"Fuck, it's Halloween already? I hadn't even noticed," Roland stated, checking his watch to confirm the date.
"God don't you two read the papers? Sir Finlay McGovern is throwing the first Halloween party in 20 years, and if you've got a string of zeroes in your bank account balance, you'll be there. It's only been the most talked about event this month. Where have you two been?" Emily scolded with a frown. "Of course Manchester is going to be there. Sands too. He wouldn't be able to not go to this, trust me."
Roland seemed to ponder this before turning to the two of them. "I don't suppose either of you has a costume?"
"I bet you think you're a funny fucker, huh?" Jeffrey asked as he looked down at what Julian had selected for him and Sands to wear that night. It was a silk suit, one half a deep midnight black that Sands would love, and the other a dark red that reminded Julian of dried blood. The division was right down the middle, splitting the suit in two, one side for Sands, one for Jeffrey. Julian only shrugged, but his eyes were twinkling. Jeffrey scowled. "I bet Sands even likes it too. God, you people have no taste whatsoever," he muttered.
"I'm not saying a word," Sands said holding his hands up. He did kind of like it, though.
"I knew it!" Jeffrey shouted, having heard Sands' reaction. "This is fucking unfair. It's not like I can choose to stay home. I'm stuck going to this goddamned party with you two bastards, and it's fucking unfair."
"You might have a good time, Jeffrey. You never know," Julian said, beginning to get used to hearing the two men within one body in front of him, as unlikely as that seemed.
Jeffrey just glared. "Don't you dare patronize me, you arrogant bastard. I'm pissed off at you. You just encourage him," he said petulantly, referring to Sands. "Fine, I'll go to the fucking party. But if I don't kill someone soon, I'm going to go fucking insane," Jeffrey commented darkly.
Sands frowned. "I'm not sure that's possible at this point, Jeffrey," Sands said, not bothering to acknowledge Jeffrey's comment about killing someone.
"Oh shut the fuck up. I'm pissed at you too," Jeffrey said, and Sands could feel a monstrous headache coming on. "How do you like that, you bastard?"
Sands put the heel of his right hand to his forehead and shut his eyes tightly. "You petty son of a bitch," he muttered, his head pounding. "That's fucking low, even for you."
"Deal with it," Jeffrey said with a cold glee.
Julian went still and felt his throat go dry. Had he really thought he was getting used to hearing the two of them argue just a minute ago? What the hell had he been thinking? They had just talked about killing someone without a second thought! Sands and Jeffrey had been relatively balanced throughout the day, and kept out of his way most of the time, but this was too much to deal with at the moment. The party started in two hours, and that was two hours too long in his book. He needed to get away from his unwelcome house 'guests' and soon or they'd end up giving him the padded cell right next to Sands'. "I think I'm going to go start getting ready too. There's also a mask that goes with the suit. It's in a bag on my desk in the study with mine. The party starts in two hours, don't forget."
Jeffrey rolled his eyes at this and watched Julian leave with flat eyes. As if he could forget. Sands was actually excited to go to this goddamned party. Jeffrey scowled at that thought until something occurred to him which brightened his mood considerably. Every person there would be in masks and uninhibited because of it. There was something freeing in putting on a mask. You could do pretty much whatever the hell you wanted because no one would know that it was you doing it. Jeffrey grinned widely.
"What are you grinning at?" Sands asked, his eyes narrowing as he lightly ran a hand across the smooth silk of the red and black suit. He didn't like this abrupt change in Jeffrey's mood. It meant he was no doubt planning something, and while Jeffrey could read what Sands' was thinking, he couldn't do the same.
'Nothing you need to worry about. At least, not now anyway,' Jeffrey whispered within his mind. He only spoke out loud when Julian was there to hear him, which Sands was ultimately grateful for. He didn't have a good image in his mind of what would happen should someone of medical persuasion overhear his conversations with Jeffrey. He was dangerously schizophrenic and he knew it, he just didn't want anyone else to. Which meant that Julian would have to die eventually. Sands didn't trust him to keep his secret once he had left Baltimore. Hell, he didn't necessarily trust the self- serving bastard alone at the party either.
'That's a good point. What if gets to the police somehow? What are we going to do then? I sincerely doubt that fucking CIA agent,' Jeffrey paused as he searched Sands' mind for his name, "Rivers is going to just let us go. We killed his woman, Yvette. If he had done that to me I'd want his head on a platter. Literally.'
Sands sighed. "Me too, damn it. But I'm not going to hide from him. If he's here in Baltimore out for our blood tonight, may the best man win. But I'm certainly not going down without a fight."
'Glad to hear you're not turning out to be such a pussy after all, Sands,' Jeffrey said approvingly. Sands just grunted at that and started getting ready for the party.
Julian brushed a piece of imaginary lint off of his immaculate red suit. While the two-toned suit Sands would be wearing was completely his idea, he had left his own costume to his assistant Rachel's more than capable hands. "Hmm, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. I wonder if she's trying to tell me something?" he mused aloud as he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He was in a bright red tuxedo with tails, and a tie to match. He had chosen to wear a soft black silk dress shirt, the same kind Sands seemed to be so fond of, underneath the jacket, and affixed an onyx tie pin and ruby cufflinks for effect. The suit would have perhaps looked better with a bow tie, but he detested the things. He could barely stand wearing ties at all, but sometimes personal tastes had to be sacrificed for one's vanity.
Rachel had provided him with an intricately carved wooden devil's mask to go with the red suit, and he had to admit it suited him rather well. He did indeed look rather devilish, he thought with a smirk. He preened a bit longer in front of the mirror before laying the mask aside and looking over the other items she had left. Good God, if he hadn't been so scrooge-like with his money, he would have given the woman a raise. She had somehow managed to procure a long black old-fashioned cape lined with red silk. It would look marvellous with the suit. She did indeed know his tastes. He smiled and left his bedroom to go and check on Sands, his coat tails flapping behind him as he walked.
Sands stood in front of the tall mirror and took a look at the suit Julian had picked out for him to wear this evening. He had taken a quick shower despite Jeffrey's protestations that they didn't need one, and now stood in front of the mirror in the black and red suit, his hair still slightly damp around his shoulders. "Oh come on, you know we look good. Stop your bitching," he mumbled to the mirror and Jeffrey.
"Fine, we look good. So what? I still don't want to fucking go," Jeffrey muttered back to him, Sands watching him speak in the mirror.
Sands rolled his eyes and looked over the tux. It was cut to his lean form almost as if he had gone in and gotten it tailor-made for him rather than accepting it as the spur of the moment gift it was. The seam between the two colours was nearly indistinguishable. It truly did look like one suit. Whoever had made it had been very good at their job. He was glad he had had the presence of mind to have bought a bag of black ties for his hair while he had been out. While he preferred to leave it loose, it would look better if he tied it back.
"God, you're such a Prima Donna, you know that? Sometimes you make me fucking sick," Jeffrey grumbled.
"Oh fuck you, you grouchy bastard. I'm going to have a good time tonight. If you would just lighten up, you would too," Sands frowned as something occurred to him. "You're always in a good mood; in fact you're perpetually fucking cheerful. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, leave me the fuck alone. Have your fucking party, I want nothing to do with it," Jeffrey said petulantly.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? It's just a party, for God's sake! You're acting as if I'm sending you off to your death. Something else is bugging you. Tell me what it is, you close-lipped bastard. You're still a part of me, remember? So fucking spill."
Jeffrey glared at him in the mirror for a long minute before sighing. "I don't fucking know, all right? Are you fucking happy? I just know something's not right. We're slipping, Sands. You don't seem to notice, maybe it's different for you, but we're slipping."
Sands went still. "What do you mean?" he asked, not daring to contemplate.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were relatively smart. It looks like I was giving you too much credit. Think about it, fuckmook. You're not fucking supposed to have two people in your head, and it appears to be tearing us both apart," he said with a half-smile. "One of us has got to go, and I don't intend it to be me."
Julian almost gasped to see Sands standing there in the hallway outside of his room seeming to wait for him. He was standing with his right profile facing Julian as he walked, and from this angle it looked as if his tuxedo was entirely black. But he knew if he was coming from the opposite end of the hall it would look entirely red like his own tux but at a much darker shade. 'It looks rather like blood, actually,' Julian thought suddenly and frowned. Sands had opted for a black bowtie that he left untied and dangling under the collar of a dress shirt that same blood-red colour of his suit. He finally turned toward him and Julian saw the full effect of the two-toned suit for the first time. It was rather disturbing since he knew the reason behind it. He had initially had Rachel purchase the suit on a whim, as a joke, but now it didn't seem funny any longer.
"What's the matter Julian, don't you like it?" Sands asked, walking toward him. Julian noticed he had tied his shoulder-length hair back as well. Sands ran his hands down the sides of the jacket with a small smile. "Jeffrey complained quite a bit about it, but I think he secretly likes it. But don't tell him I said that," Sands said with a conspirator's smirk.
Julian paled a little at this, 'Surely he's joking. He and Jeffrey are in essence, the same person, aren't they? Dear God, I know he's mad, but just help him hold out a little while longer or I fear many people are going to die.'
Sands didn't know why he had said that last line. His brain had gotten a little foggier than usual for a moment and he had said those words. Had Jeffrey been serious? He didn't feel like he was slipping....... Fuck, this was not good.
"Sands? Are you still with me? I told you I liked the tux. Are you ok?" Julian said, his voice concerned.
'He should be fucking concerned,' he thought to himself. Jeffrey was talking about waging a war on the plane of his mind for his sanity. Things were definitely not ok. But he couldn't let Julian know that. The bastard already knew too much as it was. "Thanks, it was a clever idea, I must admit. You got us," Sands said, forcing a smile.
"It suits you.......both. You look good in black, if a little pale. Did you not get any sleep last night?" Julian asked.
Sands fought down the urge to roll his eyes. "No, I slept like a baby. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Worry about the impression the two of us are going to make at this party tonight. I wonder how many reporters will be there," Sands mused.
Jeffrey perked up at this, he loved being in the spotlight. "Reporters? There are going to be reporters there?" he asked.
"More than likely. With a guest list like this party no doubt has, the press would be foolish not to attend. Isn't that right, Julian?" Sands asked him after answering Jeffrey's question.
"I could care less about the press actually. They've always a rather annoying thorn in my side. I'm mostly going for appearances and for women, of course," he smiled like the being his costume represented and Sands couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his lips.
"You haven't changed at all, have you?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Not like you have," Julian murmured, and what little humour Sands had been feeling at Julian's offhand comment faded as if it had never existed.
"No, definitely not like I have," Sands said coldly before finding himself inexplicably angry. "Yes, I've fucking changed. Yes, I seem to be mad as a fucking march hare, but I didn't ask for it! I didn't ask to be this way, to wake up one morning with a dead girl in bed next to you and another fucking voice in your head!"
"You think I asked for this? Well fuck you Sands, I didn't ask to be attached so such a pathetic loser like you! If I can find a way to make you simply disappear forever, I'd do it gladly," Jeffrey threatened.
"Oh shut the fuck up, I'm tired of this! I'm tired of your fucking games! I'm tired of you fucking killing people!" Sands screamed
"I'll have you know, you sociopathic son of a bitch that it was *you* who killed most of those people, not me! So if you want to start pointing fingers, keep that in mind!" Jeffrey screamed back at him.
It was Sands who pulled the knife he had strapped to his cummerbund first, but only by a few seconds. He held the six-inch blade up to the left side of his neck, Jeffrey's side, the red side, and distantly felt the pain of it against his tender skin. He also felt a slow trickle of blood make its way down his neck, and some still sane part of him bemoaned the damage it would do to his suit, but the rest of him didn't care.
"You fucking idiot, you can't kill me without killing yourself," Jeffrey seethed, refusing to wince as the blade pressed harder against his neck.
"I am well aware of that Jeffrey," Sands said calmly, too calmly for Jeffrey's liking. Hadn't he been screaming just a minute ago?
"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" Julian moaned, not believing what he was seeing. He had somehow managed to make it into hell, if just for one night, and he was not handling it well. "Come on, Sands. You're starting to scare me a little. Put down the knife, ok?" he didn't necessarily care for the man in front of him, the ungrateful bastard had blackmailed him, but some primal part of him cried out against this obviously troubled man about to take his own life. He hated it. "Fine, you want to go all Jekyll and Hyde on me, you do it on your own time. Try not to get any blood on the carpet, ok? I'll be in my bed room finishing getting ready for the party. Let me know when you're finished," he turned to leave but suddenly found the now bloodied knife at his own throat.
"Who said you got to leave? Stay, things are just about to get interesting," either Sands or Jeffrey, Julian found he couldn't tell who was speaking any longer, smiled cruelly at him. Julian nodded and the knife was removed from his throat and switched to Sands' left hand.
"Now, where were we?" Jeffrey asked, holding the knife to the right side of his neck, Sands' side, the black side, with the same force Sands had held it with. "Oh yes, you were threatening to end my life and consequently your own, is that it? Not a very smart move, Sheldon. You didn't think I'd let you get away with it, did you?"
"Don't fucking call me that," Sands grunted, blood beginning to run down the right side of his neck too. If he ever made it to the party, he sincerely doubted anyone would buy the 'I cut myself shaving,' excuse.
"Well isn't this interesting? We seem to have come to yet another Mexican stand-off, haven't we? And here I thought we'd fucking had our fill of those yesterday. We are going to have a confrontation, you and I, but not tonight." Jeffrey removed the knife from Sands' neck and placed it back in its sheath at his waist.
Sands just stood there, not moving, blood running down both sides of his neck in identical cuts, disbelieving what had just happened. Jeffrey had been the one to end it. He had stopped when Sands had not. What kind of fucked up universe had he stumbled into now? Jeffrey had the impulse control of a fucking disgruntled postal worker in a gun shop, for God's sake. "Why did you stop? I'm supposed to be the fucking cool-headed one, not you! You're impulsive! Why'd you stop?"
"We're both changing, Sands. I remember when you didn't use to curse so much," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "Anyway, I thought we had a fucking party to get to. Isn't that right, Julian?" Jeffrey turned to look at him.
"Yes, the party," Julian said in a slight daze before shaking his head and glancing at his watch. "Bloody hell, we've got less than 45 minutes. We've got to go. Clean yourself up and tie your tie. I'll be in my study." Julian hurried to leave while he had the option.
Sands and Jeffrey stared at Julian's retreat down the hall, the blood still flowing, albeit sluggishly, down his neck. 'What are you just standing there for? I thought you wanted to go to this stupid party? If you tell me I got in this monkey suit for nothing, I am going to fucking kill you,' Jeffrey promised.
"The party, right," Sands muttered with a frown, heading back into his room. He walked purposefully toward the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror to survey the damage to his neck. The cuts hadn't hurt all that much initially, it had been a sharp knife, but now they stung like hell. He cursed and grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls out of the medicine cabinet and applied a liberal dose to both sides of his neck, hissing in pain as he did so. The bowtie would probably be torture to wear, but he'd do it anyway. At least that way the cuts would be relatively hidden.
'You know how to tie one of those, right?' Jeffrey asked once the pain had died down a little.
"In theory. It's been awhile," Sands muttered, grabbing the loose ends of the tie.
'Fucking perfect. Should I call Julian back? I don't want to be here all night trying to tie this stupid thing.'
"Julian probably doesn't know how. He's always hated wearing ties from what I can remember. He only wears them for appearances, and even then, he doesn't wear them for very long," Sands said, his hands moving automatically in half-remembered movements. After a moment, he looked down and saw a perfectly tied bowtie at his throat. "Well fuck me, how about that? I guess I remembered after all. Or you did."
'Oh no, not me. I wouldn't waste space in our brain with such useless crap like how to tie a bow-tie,' Jeffrey muttered, scowling ineffectually at the black knot of silk at his throat. 'Let's get this dance number started and over with. Grab our coat.'
Sands grabbed the coat and the two of them made their way down to Julian's study where Julian already had his heavy cape and top hat on, looking impatient. He was also wearing, and Sands sincerely hoped it wasn't a hallucination, a wooden devil's mask to go with the red suit. "Oh fuck, I forgot. This is a masquerade, isn't it? What's the damage?" he asked, referring to the mask Julian had chosen for him to wear with the suit.
"It's much less extravagant than mine, don't worry," Julian muttered. He handed Sands a small black lacquered wooden mask, the right side completely covered in bright red feathers that looked like flames. It would compliment the black and red suit perfectly, which was no doubt Julian's intention in the first place. It also played off the divided them that he had thought was so fucking clever, as well. It tied in place with two black silk strips, which Sands had no difficulty tying. Julian nodded in approval once he had tied the mask securely, and felt like an animal paraded on display. He didn't like it so he only scowled when Julian directed him to take a look at himself in the tall standing mirror. Julian held up his hands in a non-threatening manner when he saw that scowl. "I just thought you might like to see what it looked like, that's all," he said quickly.
"Well, we don't fucking like feeling like were on display, savvy?" Jeffrey grumbled, but moved to the mirror. He had to admit when he stepped in front of the mirror, that they did look good, however. Julian may have been an arrogant and stupid bastard, but he did have taste. The flame-looking red feathers were on the right side, above the black half of his suit. The overall effect was rather unique, he admitted. He still didn't want to go to the party, but at least he looked good.
"Well gee, I think he likes it, Julian," Sands said, seeing Jeffrey almost smile in the mirror.
"Who, Jeffrey? He likes it?" Julian asked.
"Who else would I fucking be talking about? There are only two of us in here, thank God," he tapped his temple. "I definitely do not need a third."
Julian didn't want to think about that so he pulled on his black gloves and turned to Sands. "Shall we go?"
"Yeah, let's fucking get this show on the road," Jeffrey grumbled, not bothering to pull on his top hat, he had refused to wear it, but tying their own heavy cape at his throat, being mindful of the bowtie. Together, he, Sands and Julian walked out of the mansion and out into the waiting limousine that took them to the party.
Jeffrey liked attention, sure, but this was a bit ridiculous. He couldn't even see straight after having so many camera bulbs flashed in his face. And the reporters sticking microphones in his face, asking questions he didn't want to or know how to answer didn't help either. More than a few of them had recognized Sands and decided now was a good time to bring up questions about the deaths of Anthony and Sara Sands. Jeffrey was tempted to tell them all the truth of what had happened, but he figured that would bring more trouble than it was worth so he stayed silent.
Sands and Julian, to their credit, handled the multitude of questions with the deft grace of someone long used to such things, answering or skilfully evading every question the herd of reporters put to them. Jeffrey was glad he didn't have to deal with it. They eventually made their way through the press gauntlet and into the front entrance to the McGovern Estate. Jeffrey tried not to gape as he entered, but it was difficult. If he had thought Julian's house was a maze, this place was absolutely labyrinthine. A well meaning butler led them to the coat room where a lady in a blue peacock feathered mask took their capes with a smile. Jeffrey was tempted to flirt with her; he liked her smile, but figured he'd have time for that sort of thing later.
The three of them were led into an enormous ballroom that made Jeffrey gape even further. Sands noticed and smirked. "You do realize that everything you see here is something we had growing up in the mansion. That is, before I burned it to the ground, anyway," Sands muttered, finally beginning to accept, albeit reluctantly, his involvement in his parent's deaths. He still denied full responsibility for it, but Jeffrey mused that it was a step in the right direction.
"Jeffrey's impressed with McGovern's estate, I take it?" Julian whispered over his shoulder, Sands having made it implicit that no one else was to know about Jeffrey in the limo on the way over.
"Oh fuck you, Manchester. I wasn't impressed. I was figuring out where the best place to start a fire would be," he said with a malicious smirk.
Julian paled. "He's not serious, is he Sands?" he asked softly.
"With him I'm afraid you never know, Julian old buddy. But I wouldn't worry. If he does decide to burn the place to the ground, there's a good chance he might warn you first," Sands said with a thoughtful frown.
"Not fucking likely," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, too quiet for Julian to hear.
If Sands could have glared at his worse half he would have. Instead, he put on a smirk and turned back to Julian. "Fuck, here they come," Sands muttered with a frown, his body tensing. He and Julian had been spotted by a group of richly dressed women gathered around the bar. They hadn't necessarily recognized them through their masks, but that didn't matter. Everyone in attendance would be either filthy rich or incredibly famous; perhaps both.
"Fuck, rich widows," Julian said, frowning in distaste. "I'd rather like to avoid them tonight if at all possible."
"I think it's too late—" Sands was cut off as he felt himself being pulled in the opposite direction of the middle aged women who were fast descending on them like a flock of starved vultures. Jeffrey was pissed off at the abrupt contact, but Sands knew what a service Julian had paid him by helping to avoid those leeches dressed as women and muttered a brief thank you.
"Senator Thompson, what a pleasure to see you this evening," Julian said cheerfully, addressing an older man dress in a Roman toga. "I love the costume," he added.
"I'm having a difficult time recognizing anyone behind these godforsaken masks, who are you?" the senator dressed as a senator asked.
"Julian Manchester, Senator. And this is S.J. Sands," he gestured to Sands, bringing him into the conversation unwillingly.
"S.J Sands, not Sheldon Jeffrey Sands?" the Senator asked with a broad smile that got even wider with Sands nodded reluctantly. "Why I haven't seen you since you were a boy! I was terribly sorry to hear about your parents, son," the Senator said, laying a hand on Sands' shoulder in sympathy.
Sands fought down the urge to both cringe at his touch, and cheerfully inform him that his parent's death had been ten years ago, and that he had been the one to cause it. Jeffrey unsurprisingly agreed with both ideas. "Yes sir, thank you sir," was all Sands said aloud, however.
"They were good people," he said with a nod before looking him up and down. "What exactly are you supposed to be, son?" he asked with a frown.
"A sociopathic, psychopathic, schizophrenic," Jeffrey said with a smile before Sands could stop him.
"Isn't he such a comedian?" Julian asked, grapping Sands' arm again before Jeffrey could make another comment. "It was nice talking to you, Senator," he said before moving on. "Am I going to have to keep an eye on you two all bloody night?" he whispered once they were out of the Senator's hearing range.
"You have no fucking sense of humour," Jeffrey said. "And if you grab us like that one more time, you're going to come back with a few less fingers," he warned with a scowl.
Julian returned Jeffrey's scowl, growing tired of the threats, but didn't respond. "Bloody hell, I need a drink already but the widows are holding their bleeding position at he bar. And if Senator Thompson had been any more unoriginal, he would have dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. Oh wait, that honour goes to our host, it seems," Julian said, pointing out Sir Finlay McGovern as he climbed slowly up the stage to make a speech as the ball was now completely underway.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Sir McGovern announced in a surprisingly clear voice for a man approaching 80. "As you may have guess, I am your host this evening," he waited until the polite applause had died down before continuing, "I want to welcome you all to tonight's masquerade ball. I'm sure it's going to be a night to remember for all of us. Thank you," he said, motioning to the live band in tuxedos in the bandstand behind him to begin. They opened up with a lively jazz number that had the dance floor moving in seconds.
"Well, as fun as having you as my shadow undeniably is, I don't want to hang around your fucking side all night. People will talk. But," Jeffrey grabbed Julian's arm as his own had been grabbed earlier and pulled him in close enough to kiss. "If you even think about going to the cops or telling anyone about Sands and I, I will personally slit your fucking throat," Jeffrey moved back and smiled broadly. "Have a nice evening. I'll find you again before the night's over," he said, turning on a polished heel and making his way across the dance floor, not giving Julian or Sands for that matter, a chance to comment.
Sands danced with a handful of young rich women, not recognizing any of them, and not caring to. His eyes were drawn however to a woman standing at the edge of the crowd, not dancing with anyone, dressed in a devil's costume that left little to the imagination, and made Jeffrey drool. Her dress was covered in red sparkles that caught every light in the room and seemed to cast a red glow about her body. Her eyes locked with his and Jeffrey smirked to see her breath catch in her throat. She was clearly interested in him. 'What are you waiting for, dumbass? Stop dancing with this society slut and go over and talk to the only woman that seems of any interest in this fucking party!' Sands couldn't help but agree and left the woman he was currently dancing with out on the dance floor, ignoring her furious spluttering.
"Good evening," Sands said to the young devil in front of him, putting on a charming smile. "I'm Sands," he said.
"I know who you are, Mr. Sands," she said slowly before introducing herself. "I'm Sara."
Sands almost frowned at that. How had she known who he was? And what exactly did she mean by that? When he saw that she didn't seem to be afraid of him, quite the opposite in fact, he could see the first hints of desire burning in her brown hazel eyes, he figured she must mean socially rather than from seeing his latest exploits on the news.
"A pleasure," Sands said, sweeping her left hand up to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure. Lead the way," Sara said with a smile, grabbing Jeffrey's red sleeved arm as he proffered it to her. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.
The two of them sat at the bar, Sands easily ignoring the cold stares the gathered widows there were sending the woman at his side. To her credit, they didn't seem to bother her either, which made Sands like the young woman even more.
"What can I get you two?" the bartender asked.
"I'll have a double whisky and the lady will have," he trailed off to let Sara answer for herself.
"I'll have a glass of red wine," she said. The bartender handed her a wine list and she chose a moderately priced one which made Sands smile. Not a money-grubber? May wonders never cease. Any one of the woman currently glaring at the two of them would have picked the most expensive item on the list on principle. The fact that Sara did not gained her a lot of points in her favour in both his and Jeffrey's books. Their drinks came quickly, and for a long moment the of them sat in complete silence, merely enjoying one another's company.
"So, how did you know who I was underneath the mask?" Sands asked at last, more than curious to hear her answer.
Sara blushed behind her half devil's mask and Sands felt himself growing inexplicably aroused at the sight. "I'll admit to having a bit of a crush on you when I was younger," she said at last, her face matching the colour of her dress now. "I used to cut your picture out of newspapers and magazines."
Sands and Jeffrey both laughed genuinely at Sara's honesty. "Really? How old are you then?" It was a blunt question, but he felt oddly comfortable asking it of her.
"20," Sara said without hesitation. "So I'm a little younger than you, but that shouldn't matter, should it?" she blushed again. "I'm sorry; I'm not usually so forward. I think it's the wine," she said, gesturing to the glass she held in her hand.
Jeffrey smirked at that, "Then by all means, drink away," he said with a smirk that only served to make Sara blush further. "I love the way you blush like that," he said running a finger down one of her scarlet cheeks.
"I look like a tomato, don't lie," but Sara smiled as he said it, leaning into his touch a little.
"Would you like to go somewhere more......private to continue our conversation?" the way Jeffrey was smirking left no room for interpretation as to what he meant, and he took her hand as she shivered and nodded, apparently not trusting herself to speak.
The three of them made their way out of the ballroom, but not quite outside. They had made it as far as the now vacant coat room before Jeffrey took the initiative, kissing Sara full and deep on the mouth. Sara gasped and he took that as in an invitation to thrust his tongue into her mouth, the wood of their masks knocking together. Jeffrey backed Sara forcefully through the coat room door, their mouths still locked in the passionate embrace, but Sands had the foresight to close and lock the door behind him, while he let Jeffrey reign free for a moment. It was interesting to say the least to witness your body kissing someone else's while not kissing anyone at all. After a short moment, he'd decided he'd had enough of watching and took over.
He eased up on the ferocity of the kiss Jeffrey had started, but none of the intensity and was rewarded as Sara moaned around his tongue. He couldn't stop Jeffrey's smirk at that as he grabbed a few of the more expensive looking fur coats off of their hangers and threw them down on the ground. It was Jeffrey who pushed them both down on top of the expensive bedding, the kiss ending only so Sara could reclaim the breath that had been knocked out of her upon impact. Her body heaving, she reached up a hand to remove her mask before he stopped her.
"No, leave it on. I like only being able to see your eyes. It gives everything a certain sensual mystery, don't you think?" He was rewarded to see another hot flash of desire pass through her eyes and he smiled.
"Please, Sands. Enough talk. We both know what we came here for. Take me before someone comes," she almost begged him, her body arching under his.
"Oh someone will come, alright," Jeffrey smirked and Sara rolled her eyes but smiled at his pun.
Sands rolled his eyes at that well before turning Sara slightly to the side so he could reach the zipper of her dress. She gasped as his cold fingers ran along the back of her neck slowly before slowly unzipping her all the way and pulling the dress down off of her so she lay before him clad in nothing but black silk lingerie. It was Sands' own eyes that held the flash of desire now as he took in her lithe form. He leaned over to kiss her collarbone and she took advantage of his close proximity to undo his hair, causing it to cascade down his face and tickle the sensitive flesh of her neck and shoulders as he lightly kissed her.
Her hands reached up to fumble at his bowtie, and he winced as it pulled on the cuts on either side of his neck. She noticed his wince and her hands froze. "Are you ok?" she asked softly.
"Don't worry about me, sugar. I'm more than ok at the moment," he said with a smile, carefully undoing the bowtie for her, leaving the silk ends dangling on her chest as he continued his kissing exploration of her neck and chest. He then brought her hands back up to his chest allowing her to unbutton his tux jacket. She pushed the two-toned jacket off of his shoulders and seemed to take pleasure in running her hand across his silk- clad chest. After a moment of her somewhat timid teasings, she unbuttoned and untucked his red silk shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders to land where his jacket had. He shivered a bit as his bare chest was exposed to the air and smiled when he saw her smile at his reaction. She took in the tattoos lining his arms and looked up at him quizzically.
"The tattoos?" he asked in reference to her look. When she nodded he continued, "I had a rebellious couple of years, what can I say?" he smirked and took the time to move the straps of her lingerie down her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the air, eliciting a shiver in her as she had from him. Without giving her a chance to say anything, he leaned down and took one of her now pebbled nipples in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. She gasped and arched up to his touch, which only served to encourage him further and he began lightly suckling on it, drawing out a short breathy moan from her slightly parted lips. She unconsciously brought a hand up to his head, running her fingers through his hair and pressing him down harder on her right breast. He smirked around her nipple and Jeffrey brought up his hand to give the opposite due attention as well.
She bucked underneath him for a moment before deciding that she'd had enough of him completely in charge, and moved her hands slowly to the front of his pants, causing him to leave off of her breasts and gasp. "Oo, that wasn't nice surprising us like that sugarbutt. You like to play, do you?" Jeffrey asked with a wicked smirk.
Sara only smiled shyly, trying to will her shy nature away and take full advantage of what was right in front of her. Literally.
"That's alright, we can play too," if Jeffrey caught that he was referring to he and Sands in the plural again he didn't correct himself. With a quick motion he pulled her lingerie off of her now shivering body completely, baring her now naked body, save pair of black four-inch stiletto heels, to the soft furs making up their 'bed' and the slightly chilled air of the coat room. He then sat back and removed his cummerbund and set the six-inch knife underneath it and out of her sight. He then removed his shoes but left his pants on for the time being, smirking a bit as she frowned in disappointment. "Don't worry; there will be plenty of time for games. It will be much more fun to take our time now, believe me."
He and Sands moved back over to Sara's now shivering body, holding her hands down at her sides so she wouldn't be able to 'surprise' him again, and continuing his mission to cover every inch of her body in butterfly- light kisses, everywhere except her breasts, that is. He was dutifully ignoring the two of the places she most wanted him to kiss as punishment for her trick earlier. He hesitated at her neck though, lightly sucking on the sensitive flesh there before Jeffrey increased the ferocity of his kissing, intending to mark her as theirs. He heard her hiss in pain as the tender skin bruised beneath his harshly pressing lips, but paid it no mind. He wouldn't finish until she knew he was his. Once he felt that the marks would remain, he pulled off to look at her.
Her eyes were lidded in desire, but she also looked more than a little upset with him which he found aroused him more than her desire did. "Why did you do that, you jerk? My dress is going to show those and I don't have any concealer to cover them with." Sands stilled any further protestations she might have made with another searing kiss that would have weakened her knees had she still been standing. His hands finally moved to her breasts again and she sighed, her anger forgotten in a haze of desire and lust.
Her hands reached out to fumble at his pants buttons, and he broke off the kiss to lean forward to facilitate her movements. After a short moment her nimble fingers finally relieved his lean hips and thighs of his pants, he then sat back from his kneeling position so she could pull his pants off the rest of the way. She smiled to see his black silk boxers and the obvious bulge they contained. "Do you have a thing for silk or is it just tonight?" she asked as he climbed back top of her, leaving his boxers on for the moment.
"Oh I always have a 'thing' for silk," he drawled. "I simply love the way it feels on my body," with that, he ran his hardened silk-covered length slowly down her stomach and in between her legs, causing her to moan again. "Don't you agree?"
"Yea for silk," Sara said breathlessly when she had regained the ability to make coherent thoughts.
Sands let out a short laugh at that and focussed directly on her eyes through the devil's mask. Before she could guess his intentions, he had removed his silk boxers and had thrust deep inside her, causing them both to groan at the contact.
Sands forced himself to move slow, while Jeffrey fought him to move at a more frenzied and rough pace. The two halves of his being warred in the decision to either hurt her or treat her as gently as crystal. Sands knew that Jeffrey would end up hurting her if didn't keep a tight control of him. He didn't really care all that much, people died; it was the way of the world, but a small part of him didn't want to see her harmed.
Jeffrey however had no such thoughts, and took over at the first chance he got. He didn't have Sands' reservations about not hurting Sara, and his thrust's intensity increased accordingly. Still thrusting within her, he raised himself up and sat back down on the now dishevelled sea of fur, bringing her down on his lap, thrusting himself into her even deeper still. He heard someone moaning, and frowned a second to learn that it was him. He had joined the chorus of moans and gasps without realizing it. Deciding that he didn't care, he gave himself fully to his vocal exclamations, which served to arouse Sara further and she began to move even faster down his now throbbing length.
This frenzied pace served to bring Sara to her climax, and she threw back her head and moaned Sands' name loudly. This pissed Jeffrey off considerably, she should have been shouting his name, not Sands', but he was too far gone to do anything about it now, as the sensation of her inner walls squeezing and pulling at him nearly did him in. He held onto the merest scrap of control for a second longer as he brought his hands to Sara's throat and began to strangle her. Two things happened after that; the first was that Jeffrey came with enough intensity that he had to blink back tears, and the second was that Sara slumped against him, limp, breathless, and clearly dead, vivid bruising from his now aching hands clear around her neck.
Sands was the one to fall backwards, Sara on top of him still, his breath coming in laboured gasps. Jeffrey had given up his control without a word and was humming happily in the back of Sands' skull. Sands' looked down his chest to see Sara's lax face mere inches away, a smile clear on her face. "Dammit Jeffrey, we're in a fucking public place and you have to go and kill the girl we were just screwing."
"Oh stop whining, you big baby. There will be other girls," Jeffrey said, sounding a little buzzed.
"That's not the point," Sands muttered, pushing Sara's limp body up and off of him. She fell back on the now clearly rumpled coats, one of her legs bent under her body at an odd angle, her arms flailed out from her body, the devil's mask being her only covering. "Fuck, we can't leave her like this," Sands muttered, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
"Why not? It'll give the person who finds her a nice show," Jeffrey smirked.
"You really fucking disgust me sometimes, you sick bastard," Sands grumbled before moving to pull Sara's lingerie and dress back on, zipping up the dress and arranging it look as natural as he could.
"There, happy now? All nice and prettied up again. We should probably get dressed though. I'm kind of surprised that no one has interrupted us yet. Although, someone may have tried, we were kind of occupied," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "Well this was fun. Sex and murder, two of my favourite activities; how about you?"
Sands chose not to respond to that, and instead busied himself with getting dressed again, putting the dead woman beside him out of his mind. She was dead, murdered by him, or a part of him at least, but there was nothing more he could do about it now. The part of him that had cared to see her dead and clothed faded as he redressed.
"Do you think my tie is straight?" Sands asked after putting on his cummerbund, reattaching the long knife to it, and retying his bowtie.
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I didn't tie the fucking thing," Jeffrey mumbled.
Sands rolled his eyes and pulled on his two-toned jacket. Without another glance to Sara's body, he unlocked the coat room, looked surreptitiously down the hall in both directions and made his way back to the ball room.
TBC
A/N: Ok, I know that chapter was incredibly long, but it wasn't my fault, I assure you. Blame Halia and Neon Daises especially for that one. They threatened my life if I didn't keep going. The next chapter will be a further continuation of this one, with Roland, Susannah and Emily crashing the party. It should be interesting. Until then. Please Review!!!
A Once Upon a Time in Mexico story by Merrie
Disclaimer: I own Jeffrey, Roland, Julian, Susannah, Emily, pretty much every character *but* SJ. Wanna trade?
Cast: Sands/Jeffrey-Johnny Depp Roland Rivers-Julian Sands, freaky coincidental hybrid name! Emily Brisbane-Nicole Kidman Susannah Cartwright-Ashley Judd Julian Manchester-Jude Law
Author's Note: Um.......this chapter got a little, actually a lot.......LONG. You can thank/blame Halia and Neon Daises for that one. They wouldn't let me stop writing!!
Rating: R for naughty language, a smut scene much, much later on, and violent graphic imagery.
Chapter Ten: Seething Shadows and Breathing Lies
"Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies . . .Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!" –The Phantom of the Opera
'I don't like this fucking place,' Jeffrey complained upon waking up in the strange bed in one of the many guestrooms of Julian's estate. Sands didn't answer; he seemed to be still asleep. Julian rolled his eyes but decided that he might as not bother to wake Sands up and make use of the opportunity to be in control for a little while without Sands whining in the background. He grimaced when he came to the piles of clean, new clothes that Sands had ordered before he had gone to bed. 'He has got to fucking get over with this obsession with black. It's getting annoying.'
His eyes narrowed to see a small piece of paper laid gently on top of the piles of clothes. He picked it up, and held it out in front of him to read it. It was a note from one of the many servants that seemed to flock about this place telling him that breakfast was at 7 sharp. The note bewildered him a bit longer, how had a servant managed to sneak into the room without either of them hearing? They definitely had to work on that or they would end up caught. He frowned and glanced over to the bedside table at the small clock there. 6:45, not a whole lot of time to get ready for breakfast, but he'd make it. He didn't have the impulsive daily morning shower routine that Sands did. He'd taken one last night before going to sleep, and he could take another one this afternoon if he needed it.
With a martyred sigh, he dressed in the black ensemble that Sands had chosen for them to wear today. He then combed his fingers though his sleep- mussed hair and made his way downstairs to where he assumed the kitchen to be. "This house is like a fucking maze," he muttered under his breath. "Not even our parents' mansion was this bad. Now granted, its appearance was improved greatly when it burned to the ground, but it still wasn't this bad." He eventually resorted to following his nose, and made his way to the large kitchen on the scent of fresh baked something or other. Jeffrey didn't know what it was, and he didn't care, but God it smelled wonderful.
"Good morning, Sands," Julian called out from his place at the breakfast table, the local newspaper propped up in front of his face and a cup of steaming coffee at his side.
"Wrong guy, so sorry. Sands is still asleep," Jeffrey commented offhandedly as he helped himself to a plate of nearly everything Julian's chef had to offer, his hand drawn immediately to the fresh blueberry muffins. It had been their scent that had led him to the kitchen.
Julian blinked, folding his paper down at his side. Had he said what he thought he had said? "What do you mean Sands is asleep? You're Sands. Aren't you?" he began to look unsure of himself.
"No, I'm Jeffrey, come out to play. We were never properly introduced. I'm Jeffrey, Sands' better half. Well his more psychotic half anyway. He's the sociopath and I'm the psychopath. It's rather a unique arrangement actually. Anyway, I don't fucking like you; I just have to put up with you. And even then, I may decide I don't want to put up with you any longer, and just kill you. But it's a risk that you're going to have to take, I'm afraid."
Julian had set his paper down at his side by now, his coffee growing cold at his side, and stared unblinking at Jeffrey who took a seat across from him at the table and began eating his muffin. In truth, he had gone to bed last night hoping that all of it had been a horrible nightmare. Not only was what happened real, but the worst of it was now sitting across from him devouring a blueberry muffin. "You're Jeffrey, not Sands?" he asked slowly, staring at the man.
Jeffrey looked up and a part of Julian wished he looked somehow different than Sands. Because other than the attitude and voice, there was nothing he could use to tell the difference between the two of them. Not that there should have been, they were the same person, after all. God, just thinking about it made his head hurt. "Have you got something in your ears, fuckmoook? I just told you that Sands is still asleep. Don't ask me how that's possible, I don't have a fucking clue, and I don't care. I'm taking advantage of that fact," he looked down at the muffin he was currently holding. "The bastard probably doesn't even like blueberry muffins," he grumbled.
"This is bloody surreal. You're a completely different person," Julian mused to himself, trying to wrap his mind around what was sitting right in front of him.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes, not bothering to waste his time on an answer to such an obviously stupid question. Suddenly, his awareness shifted as he felt Sands waking up. It was a rather unique experience, to say the least. "Fuck, he stirs," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, causing Julian to cast a confused eye toward him.
"What did you say?" Julian asked, watching as Jeffrey shook his head sharply.
"Fuck, I take it I didn't exactly sleepwalk down here?" Sands asked upon seeing Julian sitting across from him at the table and noticing the half- eaten muffin in his hand. "Jeffrey, you bastard. Had yourself a little breakfast without me, huh?" he muttered, frowning as he set the muffin down. He didn't even like blueberry muffins. "Good morning, Julian. Did you and Jeffrey have a nice chat?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.
"Sands?" Julian asked timidly.
"Who else would it be? Don't answer that," Sands hastened to add. "Yes it's me. So, what's on the agenda today?"
Julian scowled, not even bothering to hope that Sands would just leave after one night. He was stuck with the bastard, for better or worse. "Do you know Finlay McGovern?" he asked.
"Sir Finlay McGovern? Of course I know him. I'm schizophrenic, not stupid. He's only one of the richest men on the east coast, present company notwithstanding. He's throwing a party tonight, correct? Some kind of old- fashioned masquerade ball. I had originally intended on going for appearance sake if nothing else before my current predicament came about. Why do you ask?"
'Wait a minute, you didn't tell me this. What party, I'm not going to any fucking boring party,' Jeffrey spoke up. Sands told him to shut up under his breath.
"Because that's where I'll be tonight," Julian sighed slowly, "I assume you and.......Jeffrey are going to tag along?"
"Oh fuck no. You two are not dragging me to any hoity toity party. I'd rather have my hands smashed to bloodied bits with a sledgehammer than go to something like that," Jeffrey said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest.
Sands uncrossed his arms and glared. "You don't have a choice. And those are my hands you're talking about smashing too, you know. So just put up and shut up," Sands said firmly. Jeffrey took over again and scowled but didn't say anything further.
"I think I need a drink," Julian said, running a hand wearily across his face.
"He's starting to get obsessed, Sus, trust me on this. He dragged our asses all the way here to Baltimore and he doesn't even have a real lead on Sands yet. And aren't we supposed to be in DC for another couple of days of boring meetings? Langley is not going to be happy about this," Emily was aware she didn't sound like her normal self, but she didn't care. On any other circumstance she might have been overjoyed to get out of the tedium of some of the assignments the CIA sent her on, but this was not one of those times. Roland was beginning to lose it, and she could see it happening before her eyes if Susannah couldn't. All he seemed to care about any more was catching Sands. The fact that he was going after him for Yvette's death in the first place no longer seemed to concern him. He hadn't even attempted to find out where Sands had hid her body, for God's sake.
"I understand what you're telling me, Emily," Susannah said as she unpacked her suitcase on the bed of the Baltimore Marriott. "But I agree with Roland on this one. Sands needs to be stopped or more people are going to die. I can't just sit around in DC in meetings all day with that hanging over my head, I just can't."
"And when did you start calling him Roland, Susannah? You're not making the mistake of letting him get to you, are you? No, you're too smart for that. You know what kind of man he is as well as I do. He's married for God's sake. I've met his wife. She's a lovely woman who's definitely too smart to be married to such an ass as him. I have absolutely no idea what she sees in him. I asked her to tell me what he did to get her to marry him, but she just laughed and said he had been himself. What the hell kind of answer is that? I've seen how he acts when he's just being himself, and I wouldn't touch him let alone marry him."
"How did things ever get so bad between you two, Emily? You never told me. And don't give some line about how you're simply standing up for Yvette and the way he treated her. We both know Yvette's taste in men. If they were breathing and at least moderately good looking, she'd sleep with them in a heartbeat. Maybe you've forgotten that. So this thing between you and Roland has got to be something else. What is it, Emily? Why are you constantly at each other's throats all the time? Because frankly, it's beginning to wear on my nerves."
"Don't change the fucking subject on me, Susannah. This isn't about me and him. It's about you. What happened to you? Before all of this started you didn't even think about breaking the rules. And now you're following in River's footsteps like you're some kind of lost dog. Are you his bitch now, is that it? Yvette's replacement?" Emily was cut off as Susannah slapped her forcefully across the cheek, the sound ringing in the now silent room. "That was out of line, I'm sorry," Emily said quietly, not bothering to finger the now red handprint across her face.
"You're damn right, it was. But we've been friends since training, Emily. I'd be foolish to let something like this come between us," she sighed and sat down heavily on one of the two beds that took up the majority of the space in the small hotel room. "But maybe you're right. I have been letting Roland; Agent Rivers get to me lately. I don't know what it is. It's something about this case.......it gives me the creeps, Em. And I'm not the type to get the creeps."
"I know. I feel the same way," Emily said, sitting down on the opposite bed, the palm print still blazing brightly on her left cheek. Susannah winced as she saw it.
"Let me get you some ice for your face," she said, standing up to get the ice bucket, her pervious anger non-existent.
"Don't bother. I deserved it. We do need to talk about Rivers though. Something's different about him lately. I think this case is getting to him. First Sands killed his lover," she suppressed a wince to say that, "and then Sands killed Mrs. Sprout while on the phone with him. I think he feels responsible for what happened."
"I think you're right," Susannah said softly, sinking back onto the bed.
Roland sat at the small table in his single hotel room and cleaned his .357 with a single-minded determination. It would no doubt have to be used in the future, and he wanted no chance of it failing him when he needed it most. An agent in the field had to rely on his weapon, and it had to rely on him to keep it working smoothly. He had to treat it as an extension of his arm, otherwise he would no doubt hesitate in the final moment, and that was how careless agents ended up dead. He sat there cleaning and oiling every moving part of the gun, thinking about it and his purpose right now. His vision had become narrowed to only one thought; he had to catch Sands.
He closed his eyes briefly as he finished cleaning his gun, hearing Marta's screams echoing in his ears. He had gotten her killed by taunting Sands.......hadn't he? A part of him insisted that Sands would have killed her anyway without his intervention, but the rest of him screamed out that he was responsible. That he had pushed Sands over the edge. This was irrational and he knew it, Sands had been pushed over the edge long before Roland had even known he had existed, but he couldn't help feeling that way, and it was starting to piss him off.
"Damn you, you bastard for making me feel this way," Roland muttered to the empty room. Before this case had come along, he had prided himself on his detachment from his work. He had been able to go through his days nearly without a lick of guilt for anything he had done. It had caused many of his harsher critics to label him as a sociopath, but that wasn't true. He had felt guilt for some of the things he had done; he simply couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it. At least, not until now.
He grunted in frustration and put away the now oil-soiled rags cloth he used to routinely clean his gun with, and replaced the .357 back in the holster at his belt. He then pulled on the dark suit coat he had laid across the bed and after turning to lock the door he made his way across the hall to where Susannah and Emily were staying.
"Come in," a voice called before his raised hand even had a chance to knock. He frowned and opened the door.
"I could hear your lumbering gait coming all the way down the hall," Emily muttered when he sent her a questioning look.
Roland pointedly ignored that and spoke, "I think I might have an idea where Sands might go next. We're going by the theory that he met up with someone he knows here in Baltimore, correct?" he waited as Susannah and Emily, albeit grudgingly, nodded. "The only person I've been able to come up with who even knows Sands is a man by the name of Julian Manchester. He and Sands apparently went to school together."
"Wait a minute, *the* Julian Manchester? And this just keeps getting better and better. Or should I say richer and richer. Julian Manchester is one of the richest most eligible bachelors on the east coast," Emily hummed approvingly. "What? Have you seen a picture of him? He's hot. Not quite sex- on-a-stick like our darling psychotic Sands is, damn it, but definitely beddable."
Roland coughed at that and went on, "That's not all. From what I've heard from the few alumni I've managed to track down, it was widely speculated that Mr. Manchester was suspected in having an affair with one of his professors. And that Sands had blackmailed him with a set of rather revealing photographs. There was never any proof, but knowing what I do now about Sands, it wouldn't surprise me. But that's my best guess on where Sands is now. We can head over to the Manchester Estate right now and check for ourselves, but something tells me we won't find anything even if he had been there."
"If Julian Manchester is as rich as you say he is, Emily then I think I know where he'll be tonight," Susannah supplied. "Tonight's Halloween. We just have to find out where the biggest and fanciest party in town is tonight, and it's a good chance he'll be there. I wouldn't be surprised if Sands made an appearance too, knowing his social status."
"Fuck, it's Halloween already? I hadn't even noticed," Roland stated, checking his watch to confirm the date.
"God don't you two read the papers? Sir Finlay McGovern is throwing the first Halloween party in 20 years, and if you've got a string of zeroes in your bank account balance, you'll be there. It's only been the most talked about event this month. Where have you two been?" Emily scolded with a frown. "Of course Manchester is going to be there. Sands too. He wouldn't be able to not go to this, trust me."
Roland seemed to ponder this before turning to the two of them. "I don't suppose either of you has a costume?"
"I bet you think you're a funny fucker, huh?" Jeffrey asked as he looked down at what Julian had selected for him and Sands to wear that night. It was a silk suit, one half a deep midnight black that Sands would love, and the other a dark red that reminded Julian of dried blood. The division was right down the middle, splitting the suit in two, one side for Sands, one for Jeffrey. Julian only shrugged, but his eyes were twinkling. Jeffrey scowled. "I bet Sands even likes it too. God, you people have no taste whatsoever," he muttered.
"I'm not saying a word," Sands said holding his hands up. He did kind of like it, though.
"I knew it!" Jeffrey shouted, having heard Sands' reaction. "This is fucking unfair. It's not like I can choose to stay home. I'm stuck going to this goddamned party with you two bastards, and it's fucking unfair."
"You might have a good time, Jeffrey. You never know," Julian said, beginning to get used to hearing the two men within one body in front of him, as unlikely as that seemed.
Jeffrey just glared. "Don't you dare patronize me, you arrogant bastard. I'm pissed off at you. You just encourage him," he said petulantly, referring to Sands. "Fine, I'll go to the fucking party. But if I don't kill someone soon, I'm going to go fucking insane," Jeffrey commented darkly.
Sands frowned. "I'm not sure that's possible at this point, Jeffrey," Sands said, not bothering to acknowledge Jeffrey's comment about killing someone.
"Oh shut the fuck up. I'm pissed at you too," Jeffrey said, and Sands could feel a monstrous headache coming on. "How do you like that, you bastard?"
Sands put the heel of his right hand to his forehead and shut his eyes tightly. "You petty son of a bitch," he muttered, his head pounding. "That's fucking low, even for you."
"Deal with it," Jeffrey said with a cold glee.
Julian went still and felt his throat go dry. Had he really thought he was getting used to hearing the two of them argue just a minute ago? What the hell had he been thinking? They had just talked about killing someone without a second thought! Sands and Jeffrey had been relatively balanced throughout the day, and kept out of his way most of the time, but this was too much to deal with at the moment. The party started in two hours, and that was two hours too long in his book. He needed to get away from his unwelcome house 'guests' and soon or they'd end up giving him the padded cell right next to Sands'. "I think I'm going to go start getting ready too. There's also a mask that goes with the suit. It's in a bag on my desk in the study with mine. The party starts in two hours, don't forget."
Jeffrey rolled his eyes at this and watched Julian leave with flat eyes. As if he could forget. Sands was actually excited to go to this goddamned party. Jeffrey scowled at that thought until something occurred to him which brightened his mood considerably. Every person there would be in masks and uninhibited because of it. There was something freeing in putting on a mask. You could do pretty much whatever the hell you wanted because no one would know that it was you doing it. Jeffrey grinned widely.
"What are you grinning at?" Sands asked, his eyes narrowing as he lightly ran a hand across the smooth silk of the red and black suit. He didn't like this abrupt change in Jeffrey's mood. It meant he was no doubt planning something, and while Jeffrey could read what Sands' was thinking, he couldn't do the same.
'Nothing you need to worry about. At least, not now anyway,' Jeffrey whispered within his mind. He only spoke out loud when Julian was there to hear him, which Sands was ultimately grateful for. He didn't have a good image in his mind of what would happen should someone of medical persuasion overhear his conversations with Jeffrey. He was dangerously schizophrenic and he knew it, he just didn't want anyone else to. Which meant that Julian would have to die eventually. Sands didn't trust him to keep his secret once he had left Baltimore. Hell, he didn't necessarily trust the self- serving bastard alone at the party either.
'That's a good point. What if gets to the police somehow? What are we going to do then? I sincerely doubt that fucking CIA agent,' Jeffrey paused as he searched Sands' mind for his name, "Rivers is going to just let us go. We killed his woman, Yvette. If he had done that to me I'd want his head on a platter. Literally.'
Sands sighed. "Me too, damn it. But I'm not going to hide from him. If he's here in Baltimore out for our blood tonight, may the best man win. But I'm certainly not going down without a fight."
'Glad to hear you're not turning out to be such a pussy after all, Sands,' Jeffrey said approvingly. Sands just grunted at that and started getting ready for the party.
Julian brushed a piece of imaginary lint off of his immaculate red suit. While the two-toned suit Sands would be wearing was completely his idea, he had left his own costume to his assistant Rachel's more than capable hands. "Hmm, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. I wonder if she's trying to tell me something?" he mused aloud as he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He was in a bright red tuxedo with tails, and a tie to match. He had chosen to wear a soft black silk dress shirt, the same kind Sands seemed to be so fond of, underneath the jacket, and affixed an onyx tie pin and ruby cufflinks for effect. The suit would have perhaps looked better with a bow tie, but he detested the things. He could barely stand wearing ties at all, but sometimes personal tastes had to be sacrificed for one's vanity.
Rachel had provided him with an intricately carved wooden devil's mask to go with the red suit, and he had to admit it suited him rather well. He did indeed look rather devilish, he thought with a smirk. He preened a bit longer in front of the mirror before laying the mask aside and looking over the other items she had left. Good God, if he hadn't been so scrooge-like with his money, he would have given the woman a raise. She had somehow managed to procure a long black old-fashioned cape lined with red silk. It would look marvellous with the suit. She did indeed know his tastes. He smiled and left his bedroom to go and check on Sands, his coat tails flapping behind him as he walked.
Sands stood in front of the tall mirror and took a look at the suit Julian had picked out for him to wear this evening. He had taken a quick shower despite Jeffrey's protestations that they didn't need one, and now stood in front of the mirror in the black and red suit, his hair still slightly damp around his shoulders. "Oh come on, you know we look good. Stop your bitching," he mumbled to the mirror and Jeffrey.
"Fine, we look good. So what? I still don't want to fucking go," Jeffrey muttered back to him, Sands watching him speak in the mirror.
Sands rolled his eyes and looked over the tux. It was cut to his lean form almost as if he had gone in and gotten it tailor-made for him rather than accepting it as the spur of the moment gift it was. The seam between the two colours was nearly indistinguishable. It truly did look like one suit. Whoever had made it had been very good at their job. He was glad he had had the presence of mind to have bought a bag of black ties for his hair while he had been out. While he preferred to leave it loose, it would look better if he tied it back.
"God, you're such a Prima Donna, you know that? Sometimes you make me fucking sick," Jeffrey grumbled.
"Oh fuck you, you grouchy bastard. I'm going to have a good time tonight. If you would just lighten up, you would too," Sands frowned as something occurred to him. "You're always in a good mood; in fact you're perpetually fucking cheerful. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, leave me the fuck alone. Have your fucking party, I want nothing to do with it," Jeffrey said petulantly.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? It's just a party, for God's sake! You're acting as if I'm sending you off to your death. Something else is bugging you. Tell me what it is, you close-lipped bastard. You're still a part of me, remember? So fucking spill."
Jeffrey glared at him in the mirror for a long minute before sighing. "I don't fucking know, all right? Are you fucking happy? I just know something's not right. We're slipping, Sands. You don't seem to notice, maybe it's different for you, but we're slipping."
Sands went still. "What do you mean?" he asked, not daring to contemplate.
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were relatively smart. It looks like I was giving you too much credit. Think about it, fuckmook. You're not fucking supposed to have two people in your head, and it appears to be tearing us both apart," he said with a half-smile. "One of us has got to go, and I don't intend it to be me."
Julian almost gasped to see Sands standing there in the hallway outside of his room seeming to wait for him. He was standing with his right profile facing Julian as he walked, and from this angle it looked as if his tuxedo was entirely black. But he knew if he was coming from the opposite end of the hall it would look entirely red like his own tux but at a much darker shade. 'It looks rather like blood, actually,' Julian thought suddenly and frowned. Sands had opted for a black bowtie that he left untied and dangling under the collar of a dress shirt that same blood-red colour of his suit. He finally turned toward him and Julian saw the full effect of the two-toned suit for the first time. It was rather disturbing since he knew the reason behind it. He had initially had Rachel purchase the suit on a whim, as a joke, but now it didn't seem funny any longer.
"What's the matter Julian, don't you like it?" Sands asked, walking toward him. Julian noticed he had tied his shoulder-length hair back as well. Sands ran his hands down the sides of the jacket with a small smile. "Jeffrey complained quite a bit about it, but I think he secretly likes it. But don't tell him I said that," Sands said with a conspirator's smirk.
Julian paled a little at this, 'Surely he's joking. He and Jeffrey are in essence, the same person, aren't they? Dear God, I know he's mad, but just help him hold out a little while longer or I fear many people are going to die.'
Sands didn't know why he had said that last line. His brain had gotten a little foggier than usual for a moment and he had said those words. Had Jeffrey been serious? He didn't feel like he was slipping....... Fuck, this was not good.
"Sands? Are you still with me? I told you I liked the tux. Are you ok?" Julian said, his voice concerned.
'He should be fucking concerned,' he thought to himself. Jeffrey was talking about waging a war on the plane of his mind for his sanity. Things were definitely not ok. But he couldn't let Julian know that. The bastard already knew too much as it was. "Thanks, it was a clever idea, I must admit. You got us," Sands said, forcing a smile.
"It suits you.......both. You look good in black, if a little pale. Did you not get any sleep last night?" Julian asked.
Sands fought down the urge to roll his eyes. "No, I slept like a baby. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Worry about the impression the two of us are going to make at this party tonight. I wonder how many reporters will be there," Sands mused.
Jeffrey perked up at this, he loved being in the spotlight. "Reporters? There are going to be reporters there?" he asked.
"More than likely. With a guest list like this party no doubt has, the press would be foolish not to attend. Isn't that right, Julian?" Sands asked him after answering Jeffrey's question.
"I could care less about the press actually. They've always a rather annoying thorn in my side. I'm mostly going for appearances and for women, of course," he smiled like the being his costume represented and Sands couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his lips.
"You haven't changed at all, have you?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Not like you have," Julian murmured, and what little humour Sands had been feeling at Julian's offhand comment faded as if it had never existed.
"No, definitely not like I have," Sands said coldly before finding himself inexplicably angry. "Yes, I've fucking changed. Yes, I seem to be mad as a fucking march hare, but I didn't ask for it! I didn't ask to be this way, to wake up one morning with a dead girl in bed next to you and another fucking voice in your head!"
"You think I asked for this? Well fuck you Sands, I didn't ask to be attached so such a pathetic loser like you! If I can find a way to make you simply disappear forever, I'd do it gladly," Jeffrey threatened.
"Oh shut the fuck up, I'm tired of this! I'm tired of your fucking games! I'm tired of you fucking killing people!" Sands screamed
"I'll have you know, you sociopathic son of a bitch that it was *you* who killed most of those people, not me! So if you want to start pointing fingers, keep that in mind!" Jeffrey screamed back at him.
It was Sands who pulled the knife he had strapped to his cummerbund first, but only by a few seconds. He held the six-inch blade up to the left side of his neck, Jeffrey's side, the red side, and distantly felt the pain of it against his tender skin. He also felt a slow trickle of blood make its way down his neck, and some still sane part of him bemoaned the damage it would do to his suit, but the rest of him didn't care.
"You fucking idiot, you can't kill me without killing yourself," Jeffrey seethed, refusing to wince as the blade pressed harder against his neck.
"I am well aware of that Jeffrey," Sands said calmly, too calmly for Jeffrey's liking. Hadn't he been screaming just a minute ago?
"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" Julian moaned, not believing what he was seeing. He had somehow managed to make it into hell, if just for one night, and he was not handling it well. "Come on, Sands. You're starting to scare me a little. Put down the knife, ok?" he didn't necessarily care for the man in front of him, the ungrateful bastard had blackmailed him, but some primal part of him cried out against this obviously troubled man about to take his own life. He hated it. "Fine, you want to go all Jekyll and Hyde on me, you do it on your own time. Try not to get any blood on the carpet, ok? I'll be in my bed room finishing getting ready for the party. Let me know when you're finished," he turned to leave but suddenly found the now bloodied knife at his own throat.
"Who said you got to leave? Stay, things are just about to get interesting," either Sands or Jeffrey, Julian found he couldn't tell who was speaking any longer, smiled cruelly at him. Julian nodded and the knife was removed from his throat and switched to Sands' left hand.
"Now, where were we?" Jeffrey asked, holding the knife to the right side of his neck, Sands' side, the black side, with the same force Sands had held it with. "Oh yes, you were threatening to end my life and consequently your own, is that it? Not a very smart move, Sheldon. You didn't think I'd let you get away with it, did you?"
"Don't fucking call me that," Sands grunted, blood beginning to run down the right side of his neck too. If he ever made it to the party, he sincerely doubted anyone would buy the 'I cut myself shaving,' excuse.
"Well isn't this interesting? We seem to have come to yet another Mexican stand-off, haven't we? And here I thought we'd fucking had our fill of those yesterday. We are going to have a confrontation, you and I, but not tonight." Jeffrey removed the knife from Sands' neck and placed it back in its sheath at his waist.
Sands just stood there, not moving, blood running down both sides of his neck in identical cuts, disbelieving what had just happened. Jeffrey had been the one to end it. He had stopped when Sands had not. What kind of fucked up universe had he stumbled into now? Jeffrey had the impulse control of a fucking disgruntled postal worker in a gun shop, for God's sake. "Why did you stop? I'm supposed to be the fucking cool-headed one, not you! You're impulsive! Why'd you stop?"
"We're both changing, Sands. I remember when you didn't use to curse so much," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "Anyway, I thought we had a fucking party to get to. Isn't that right, Julian?" Jeffrey turned to look at him.
"Yes, the party," Julian said in a slight daze before shaking his head and glancing at his watch. "Bloody hell, we've got less than 45 minutes. We've got to go. Clean yourself up and tie your tie. I'll be in my study." Julian hurried to leave while he had the option.
Sands and Jeffrey stared at Julian's retreat down the hall, the blood still flowing, albeit sluggishly, down his neck. 'What are you just standing there for? I thought you wanted to go to this stupid party? If you tell me I got in this monkey suit for nothing, I am going to fucking kill you,' Jeffrey promised.
"The party, right," Sands muttered with a frown, heading back into his room. He walked purposefully toward the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror to survey the damage to his neck. The cuts hadn't hurt all that much initially, it had been a sharp knife, but now they stung like hell. He cursed and grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls out of the medicine cabinet and applied a liberal dose to both sides of his neck, hissing in pain as he did so. The bowtie would probably be torture to wear, but he'd do it anyway. At least that way the cuts would be relatively hidden.
'You know how to tie one of those, right?' Jeffrey asked once the pain had died down a little.
"In theory. It's been awhile," Sands muttered, grabbing the loose ends of the tie.
'Fucking perfect. Should I call Julian back? I don't want to be here all night trying to tie this stupid thing.'
"Julian probably doesn't know how. He's always hated wearing ties from what I can remember. He only wears them for appearances, and even then, he doesn't wear them for very long," Sands said, his hands moving automatically in half-remembered movements. After a moment, he looked down and saw a perfectly tied bowtie at his throat. "Well fuck me, how about that? I guess I remembered after all. Or you did."
'Oh no, not me. I wouldn't waste space in our brain with such useless crap like how to tie a bow-tie,' Jeffrey muttered, scowling ineffectually at the black knot of silk at his throat. 'Let's get this dance number started and over with. Grab our coat.'
Sands grabbed the coat and the two of them made their way down to Julian's study where Julian already had his heavy cape and top hat on, looking impatient. He was also wearing, and Sands sincerely hoped it wasn't a hallucination, a wooden devil's mask to go with the red suit. "Oh fuck, I forgot. This is a masquerade, isn't it? What's the damage?" he asked, referring to the mask Julian had chosen for him to wear with the suit.
"It's much less extravagant than mine, don't worry," Julian muttered. He handed Sands a small black lacquered wooden mask, the right side completely covered in bright red feathers that looked like flames. It would compliment the black and red suit perfectly, which was no doubt Julian's intention in the first place. It also played off the divided them that he had thought was so fucking clever, as well. It tied in place with two black silk strips, which Sands had no difficulty tying. Julian nodded in approval once he had tied the mask securely, and felt like an animal paraded on display. He didn't like it so he only scowled when Julian directed him to take a look at himself in the tall standing mirror. Julian held up his hands in a non-threatening manner when he saw that scowl. "I just thought you might like to see what it looked like, that's all," he said quickly.
"Well, we don't fucking like feeling like were on display, savvy?" Jeffrey grumbled, but moved to the mirror. He had to admit when he stepped in front of the mirror, that they did look good, however. Julian may have been an arrogant and stupid bastard, but he did have taste. The flame-looking red feathers were on the right side, above the black half of his suit. The overall effect was rather unique, he admitted. He still didn't want to go to the party, but at least he looked good.
"Well gee, I think he likes it, Julian," Sands said, seeing Jeffrey almost smile in the mirror.
"Who, Jeffrey? He likes it?" Julian asked.
"Who else would I fucking be talking about? There are only two of us in here, thank God," he tapped his temple. "I definitely do not need a third."
Julian didn't want to think about that so he pulled on his black gloves and turned to Sands. "Shall we go?"
"Yeah, let's fucking get this show on the road," Jeffrey grumbled, not bothering to pull on his top hat, he had refused to wear it, but tying their own heavy cape at his throat, being mindful of the bowtie. Together, he, Sands and Julian walked out of the mansion and out into the waiting limousine that took them to the party.
Jeffrey liked attention, sure, but this was a bit ridiculous. He couldn't even see straight after having so many camera bulbs flashed in his face. And the reporters sticking microphones in his face, asking questions he didn't want to or know how to answer didn't help either. More than a few of them had recognized Sands and decided now was a good time to bring up questions about the deaths of Anthony and Sara Sands. Jeffrey was tempted to tell them all the truth of what had happened, but he figured that would bring more trouble than it was worth so he stayed silent.
Sands and Julian, to their credit, handled the multitude of questions with the deft grace of someone long used to such things, answering or skilfully evading every question the herd of reporters put to them. Jeffrey was glad he didn't have to deal with it. They eventually made their way through the press gauntlet and into the front entrance to the McGovern Estate. Jeffrey tried not to gape as he entered, but it was difficult. If he had thought Julian's house was a maze, this place was absolutely labyrinthine. A well meaning butler led them to the coat room where a lady in a blue peacock feathered mask took their capes with a smile. Jeffrey was tempted to flirt with her; he liked her smile, but figured he'd have time for that sort of thing later.
The three of them were led into an enormous ballroom that made Jeffrey gape even further. Sands noticed and smirked. "You do realize that everything you see here is something we had growing up in the mansion. That is, before I burned it to the ground, anyway," Sands muttered, finally beginning to accept, albeit reluctantly, his involvement in his parent's deaths. He still denied full responsibility for it, but Jeffrey mused that it was a step in the right direction.
"Jeffrey's impressed with McGovern's estate, I take it?" Julian whispered over his shoulder, Sands having made it implicit that no one else was to know about Jeffrey in the limo on the way over.
"Oh fuck you, Manchester. I wasn't impressed. I was figuring out where the best place to start a fire would be," he said with a malicious smirk.
Julian paled. "He's not serious, is he Sands?" he asked softly.
"With him I'm afraid you never know, Julian old buddy. But I wouldn't worry. If he does decide to burn the place to the ground, there's a good chance he might warn you first," Sands said with a thoughtful frown.
"Not fucking likely," Jeffrey muttered under his breath, too quiet for Julian to hear.
If Sands could have glared at his worse half he would have. Instead, he put on a smirk and turned back to Julian. "Fuck, here they come," Sands muttered with a frown, his body tensing. He and Julian had been spotted by a group of richly dressed women gathered around the bar. They hadn't necessarily recognized them through their masks, but that didn't matter. Everyone in attendance would be either filthy rich or incredibly famous; perhaps both.
"Fuck, rich widows," Julian said, frowning in distaste. "I'd rather like to avoid them tonight if at all possible."
"I think it's too late—" Sands was cut off as he felt himself being pulled in the opposite direction of the middle aged women who were fast descending on them like a flock of starved vultures. Jeffrey was pissed off at the abrupt contact, but Sands knew what a service Julian had paid him by helping to avoid those leeches dressed as women and muttered a brief thank you.
"Senator Thompson, what a pleasure to see you this evening," Julian said cheerfully, addressing an older man dress in a Roman toga. "I love the costume," he added.
"I'm having a difficult time recognizing anyone behind these godforsaken masks, who are you?" the senator dressed as a senator asked.
"Julian Manchester, Senator. And this is S.J. Sands," he gestured to Sands, bringing him into the conversation unwillingly.
"S.J Sands, not Sheldon Jeffrey Sands?" the Senator asked with a broad smile that got even wider with Sands nodded reluctantly. "Why I haven't seen you since you were a boy! I was terribly sorry to hear about your parents, son," the Senator said, laying a hand on Sands' shoulder in sympathy.
Sands fought down the urge to both cringe at his touch, and cheerfully inform him that his parent's death had been ten years ago, and that he had been the one to cause it. Jeffrey unsurprisingly agreed with both ideas. "Yes sir, thank you sir," was all Sands said aloud, however.
"They were good people," he said with a nod before looking him up and down. "What exactly are you supposed to be, son?" he asked with a frown.
"A sociopathic, psychopathic, schizophrenic," Jeffrey said with a smile before Sands could stop him.
"Isn't he such a comedian?" Julian asked, grapping Sands' arm again before Jeffrey could make another comment. "It was nice talking to you, Senator," he said before moving on. "Am I going to have to keep an eye on you two all bloody night?" he whispered once they were out of the Senator's hearing range.
"You have no fucking sense of humour," Jeffrey said. "And if you grab us like that one more time, you're going to come back with a few less fingers," he warned with a scowl.
Julian returned Jeffrey's scowl, growing tired of the threats, but didn't respond. "Bloody hell, I need a drink already but the widows are holding their bleeding position at he bar. And if Senator Thompson had been any more unoriginal, he would have dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. Oh wait, that honour goes to our host, it seems," Julian said, pointing out Sir Finlay McGovern as he climbed slowly up the stage to make a speech as the ball was now completely underway.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Sir McGovern announced in a surprisingly clear voice for a man approaching 80. "As you may have guess, I am your host this evening," he waited until the polite applause had died down before continuing, "I want to welcome you all to tonight's masquerade ball. I'm sure it's going to be a night to remember for all of us. Thank you," he said, motioning to the live band in tuxedos in the bandstand behind him to begin. They opened up with a lively jazz number that had the dance floor moving in seconds.
"Well, as fun as having you as my shadow undeniably is, I don't want to hang around your fucking side all night. People will talk. But," Jeffrey grabbed Julian's arm as his own had been grabbed earlier and pulled him in close enough to kiss. "If you even think about going to the cops or telling anyone about Sands and I, I will personally slit your fucking throat," Jeffrey moved back and smiled broadly. "Have a nice evening. I'll find you again before the night's over," he said, turning on a polished heel and making his way across the dance floor, not giving Julian or Sands for that matter, a chance to comment.
Sands danced with a handful of young rich women, not recognizing any of them, and not caring to. His eyes were drawn however to a woman standing at the edge of the crowd, not dancing with anyone, dressed in a devil's costume that left little to the imagination, and made Jeffrey drool. Her dress was covered in red sparkles that caught every light in the room and seemed to cast a red glow about her body. Her eyes locked with his and Jeffrey smirked to see her breath catch in her throat. She was clearly interested in him. 'What are you waiting for, dumbass? Stop dancing with this society slut and go over and talk to the only woman that seems of any interest in this fucking party!' Sands couldn't help but agree and left the woman he was currently dancing with out on the dance floor, ignoring her furious spluttering.
"Good evening," Sands said to the young devil in front of him, putting on a charming smile. "I'm Sands," he said.
"I know who you are, Mr. Sands," she said slowly before introducing herself. "I'm Sara."
Sands almost frowned at that. How had she known who he was? And what exactly did she mean by that? When he saw that she didn't seem to be afraid of him, quite the opposite in fact, he could see the first hints of desire burning in her brown hazel eyes, he figured she must mean socially rather than from seeing his latest exploits on the news.
"A pleasure," Sands said, sweeping her left hand up to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure. Lead the way," Sara said with a smile, grabbing Jeffrey's red sleeved arm as he proffered it to her. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.
The two of them sat at the bar, Sands easily ignoring the cold stares the gathered widows there were sending the woman at his side. To her credit, they didn't seem to bother her either, which made Sands like the young woman even more.
"What can I get you two?" the bartender asked.
"I'll have a double whisky and the lady will have," he trailed off to let Sara answer for herself.
"I'll have a glass of red wine," she said. The bartender handed her a wine list and she chose a moderately priced one which made Sands smile. Not a money-grubber? May wonders never cease. Any one of the woman currently glaring at the two of them would have picked the most expensive item on the list on principle. The fact that Sara did not gained her a lot of points in her favour in both his and Jeffrey's books. Their drinks came quickly, and for a long moment the of them sat in complete silence, merely enjoying one another's company.
"So, how did you know who I was underneath the mask?" Sands asked at last, more than curious to hear her answer.
Sara blushed behind her half devil's mask and Sands felt himself growing inexplicably aroused at the sight. "I'll admit to having a bit of a crush on you when I was younger," she said at last, her face matching the colour of her dress now. "I used to cut your picture out of newspapers and magazines."
Sands and Jeffrey both laughed genuinely at Sara's honesty. "Really? How old are you then?" It was a blunt question, but he felt oddly comfortable asking it of her.
"20," Sara said without hesitation. "So I'm a little younger than you, but that shouldn't matter, should it?" she blushed again. "I'm sorry; I'm not usually so forward. I think it's the wine," she said, gesturing to the glass she held in her hand.
Jeffrey smirked at that, "Then by all means, drink away," he said with a smirk that only served to make Sara blush further. "I love the way you blush like that," he said running a finger down one of her scarlet cheeks.
"I look like a tomato, don't lie," but Sara smiled as he said it, leaning into his touch a little.
"Would you like to go somewhere more......private to continue our conversation?" the way Jeffrey was smirking left no room for interpretation as to what he meant, and he took her hand as she shivered and nodded, apparently not trusting herself to speak.
The three of them made their way out of the ballroom, but not quite outside. They had made it as far as the now vacant coat room before Jeffrey took the initiative, kissing Sara full and deep on the mouth. Sara gasped and he took that as in an invitation to thrust his tongue into her mouth, the wood of their masks knocking together. Jeffrey backed Sara forcefully through the coat room door, their mouths still locked in the passionate embrace, but Sands had the foresight to close and lock the door behind him, while he let Jeffrey reign free for a moment. It was interesting to say the least to witness your body kissing someone else's while not kissing anyone at all. After a short moment, he'd decided he'd had enough of watching and took over.
He eased up on the ferocity of the kiss Jeffrey had started, but none of the intensity and was rewarded as Sara moaned around his tongue. He couldn't stop Jeffrey's smirk at that as he grabbed a few of the more expensive looking fur coats off of their hangers and threw them down on the ground. It was Jeffrey who pushed them both down on top of the expensive bedding, the kiss ending only so Sara could reclaim the breath that had been knocked out of her upon impact. Her body heaving, she reached up a hand to remove her mask before he stopped her.
"No, leave it on. I like only being able to see your eyes. It gives everything a certain sensual mystery, don't you think?" He was rewarded to see another hot flash of desire pass through her eyes and he smiled.
"Please, Sands. Enough talk. We both know what we came here for. Take me before someone comes," she almost begged him, her body arching under his.
"Oh someone will come, alright," Jeffrey smirked and Sara rolled her eyes but smiled at his pun.
Sands rolled his eyes at that well before turning Sara slightly to the side so he could reach the zipper of her dress. She gasped as his cold fingers ran along the back of her neck slowly before slowly unzipping her all the way and pulling the dress down off of her so she lay before him clad in nothing but black silk lingerie. It was Sands' own eyes that held the flash of desire now as he took in her lithe form. He leaned over to kiss her collarbone and she took advantage of his close proximity to undo his hair, causing it to cascade down his face and tickle the sensitive flesh of her neck and shoulders as he lightly kissed her.
Her hands reached up to fumble at his bowtie, and he winced as it pulled on the cuts on either side of his neck. She noticed his wince and her hands froze. "Are you ok?" she asked softly.
"Don't worry about me, sugar. I'm more than ok at the moment," he said with a smile, carefully undoing the bowtie for her, leaving the silk ends dangling on her chest as he continued his kissing exploration of her neck and chest. He then brought her hands back up to his chest allowing her to unbutton his tux jacket. She pushed the two-toned jacket off of his shoulders and seemed to take pleasure in running her hand across his silk- clad chest. After a moment of her somewhat timid teasings, she unbuttoned and untucked his red silk shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders to land where his jacket had. He shivered a bit as his bare chest was exposed to the air and smiled when he saw her smile at his reaction. She took in the tattoos lining his arms and looked up at him quizzically.
"The tattoos?" he asked in reference to her look. When she nodded he continued, "I had a rebellious couple of years, what can I say?" he smirked and took the time to move the straps of her lingerie down her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the air, eliciting a shiver in her as she had from him. Without giving her a chance to say anything, he leaned down and took one of her now pebbled nipples in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. She gasped and arched up to his touch, which only served to encourage him further and he began lightly suckling on it, drawing out a short breathy moan from her slightly parted lips. She unconsciously brought a hand up to his head, running her fingers through his hair and pressing him down harder on her right breast. He smirked around her nipple and Jeffrey brought up his hand to give the opposite due attention as well.
She bucked underneath him for a moment before deciding that she'd had enough of him completely in charge, and moved her hands slowly to the front of his pants, causing him to leave off of her breasts and gasp. "Oo, that wasn't nice surprising us like that sugarbutt. You like to play, do you?" Jeffrey asked with a wicked smirk.
Sara only smiled shyly, trying to will her shy nature away and take full advantage of what was right in front of her. Literally.
"That's alright, we can play too," if Jeffrey caught that he was referring to he and Sands in the plural again he didn't correct himself. With a quick motion he pulled her lingerie off of her now shivering body completely, baring her now naked body, save pair of black four-inch stiletto heels, to the soft furs making up their 'bed' and the slightly chilled air of the coat room. He then sat back and removed his cummerbund and set the six-inch knife underneath it and out of her sight. He then removed his shoes but left his pants on for the time being, smirking a bit as she frowned in disappointment. "Don't worry; there will be plenty of time for games. It will be much more fun to take our time now, believe me."
He and Sands moved back over to Sara's now shivering body, holding her hands down at her sides so she wouldn't be able to 'surprise' him again, and continuing his mission to cover every inch of her body in butterfly- light kisses, everywhere except her breasts, that is. He was dutifully ignoring the two of the places she most wanted him to kiss as punishment for her trick earlier. He hesitated at her neck though, lightly sucking on the sensitive flesh there before Jeffrey increased the ferocity of his kissing, intending to mark her as theirs. He heard her hiss in pain as the tender skin bruised beneath his harshly pressing lips, but paid it no mind. He wouldn't finish until she knew he was his. Once he felt that the marks would remain, he pulled off to look at her.
Her eyes were lidded in desire, but she also looked more than a little upset with him which he found aroused him more than her desire did. "Why did you do that, you jerk? My dress is going to show those and I don't have any concealer to cover them with." Sands stilled any further protestations she might have made with another searing kiss that would have weakened her knees had she still been standing. His hands finally moved to her breasts again and she sighed, her anger forgotten in a haze of desire and lust.
Her hands reached out to fumble at his pants buttons, and he broke off the kiss to lean forward to facilitate her movements. After a short moment her nimble fingers finally relieved his lean hips and thighs of his pants, he then sat back from his kneeling position so she could pull his pants off the rest of the way. She smiled to see his black silk boxers and the obvious bulge they contained. "Do you have a thing for silk or is it just tonight?" she asked as he climbed back top of her, leaving his boxers on for the moment.
"Oh I always have a 'thing' for silk," he drawled. "I simply love the way it feels on my body," with that, he ran his hardened silk-covered length slowly down her stomach and in between her legs, causing her to moan again. "Don't you agree?"
"Yea for silk," Sara said breathlessly when she had regained the ability to make coherent thoughts.
Sands let out a short laugh at that and focussed directly on her eyes through the devil's mask. Before she could guess his intentions, he had removed his silk boxers and had thrust deep inside her, causing them both to groan at the contact.
Sands forced himself to move slow, while Jeffrey fought him to move at a more frenzied and rough pace. The two halves of his being warred in the decision to either hurt her or treat her as gently as crystal. Sands knew that Jeffrey would end up hurting her if didn't keep a tight control of him. He didn't really care all that much, people died; it was the way of the world, but a small part of him didn't want to see her harmed.
Jeffrey however had no such thoughts, and took over at the first chance he got. He didn't have Sands' reservations about not hurting Sara, and his thrust's intensity increased accordingly. Still thrusting within her, he raised himself up and sat back down on the now dishevelled sea of fur, bringing her down on his lap, thrusting himself into her even deeper still. He heard someone moaning, and frowned a second to learn that it was him. He had joined the chorus of moans and gasps without realizing it. Deciding that he didn't care, he gave himself fully to his vocal exclamations, which served to arouse Sara further and she began to move even faster down his now throbbing length.
This frenzied pace served to bring Sara to her climax, and she threw back her head and moaned Sands' name loudly. This pissed Jeffrey off considerably, she should have been shouting his name, not Sands', but he was too far gone to do anything about it now, as the sensation of her inner walls squeezing and pulling at him nearly did him in. He held onto the merest scrap of control for a second longer as he brought his hands to Sara's throat and began to strangle her. Two things happened after that; the first was that Jeffrey came with enough intensity that he had to blink back tears, and the second was that Sara slumped against him, limp, breathless, and clearly dead, vivid bruising from his now aching hands clear around her neck.
Sands was the one to fall backwards, Sara on top of him still, his breath coming in laboured gasps. Jeffrey had given up his control without a word and was humming happily in the back of Sands' skull. Sands' looked down his chest to see Sara's lax face mere inches away, a smile clear on her face. "Dammit Jeffrey, we're in a fucking public place and you have to go and kill the girl we were just screwing."
"Oh stop whining, you big baby. There will be other girls," Jeffrey said, sounding a little buzzed.
"That's not the point," Sands muttered, pushing Sara's limp body up and off of him. She fell back on the now clearly rumpled coats, one of her legs bent under her body at an odd angle, her arms flailed out from her body, the devil's mask being her only covering. "Fuck, we can't leave her like this," Sands muttered, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
"Why not? It'll give the person who finds her a nice show," Jeffrey smirked.
"You really fucking disgust me sometimes, you sick bastard," Sands grumbled before moving to pull Sara's lingerie and dress back on, zipping up the dress and arranging it look as natural as he could.
"There, happy now? All nice and prettied up again. We should probably get dressed though. I'm kind of surprised that no one has interrupted us yet. Although, someone may have tried, we were kind of occupied," Jeffrey said with a smirk. "Well this was fun. Sex and murder, two of my favourite activities; how about you?"
Sands chose not to respond to that, and instead busied himself with getting dressed again, putting the dead woman beside him out of his mind. She was dead, murdered by him, or a part of him at least, but there was nothing more he could do about it now. The part of him that had cared to see her dead and clothed faded as he redressed.
"Do you think my tie is straight?" Sands asked after putting on his cummerbund, reattaching the long knife to it, and retying his bowtie.
"How the hell am I supposed to know? I didn't tie the fucking thing," Jeffrey mumbled.
Sands rolled his eyes and pulled on his two-toned jacket. Without another glance to Sara's body, he unlocked the coat room, looked surreptitiously down the hall in both directions and made his way back to the ball room.
TBC
A/N: Ok, I know that chapter was incredibly long, but it wasn't my fault, I assure you. Blame Halia and Neon Daises especially for that one. They threatened my life if I didn't keep going. The next chapter will be a further continuation of this one, with Roland, Susannah and Emily crashing the party. It should be interesting. Until then. Please Review!!!