Disclaimer: Crimson Peak is Guillermo Del Toro's property, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, The Lodgers to Brian O'Malley. Emma, Constance and I are self-inserts. The old lady from Camden Market belongs to Chibimelodee.
Summary: Ghosts are real and everything happens for a reason. Is this why Marina and her friends find themselves trapped in Allerdale Hall a few days away from Christmas?
Author's note: This story was written for me by « Emma » and « Constance » from Chibimelodee as an Advent Calendar two years ago. Please note that all three of us are french and while we do know our way around English, we might still make some mistakes. Feel free to let us know! As the three girls are french and start to speak from this chapter, I'll put the translations of their sentences right next to them so you know what they say.
At the Candlelight
Chapter 15 : So lonesome I could cry
Constance has stormed into the bedroom, the only place in the whole damn house she felt safe. But, had she ever been safe at all ? Now that she knew Thomas' secret, everything was much more complicated. Her head was spinning, her vision blurry. She wanted to scream, to throw things on the floor... to let her rage and sorrow out… How had she been so easily cheated ? She was a smart woman ! Why had she been so blind ? A scream of agony tore her throat apart as she let herself fall on her knees, on the wooden floor.
Marina and Sean arrived in the room moments later, finding a sobbing Constance on the floor. Waving at Sean to stay where he was, Marina went to her friend, hugging her softly.
« Ne pleure pas » she whispered, strocking fondly her friend's hair. « Il n'en vaut pas la peine… Ce n'est qu'un menteur… Je suis tellement désolée… » Marina managed to get Constance on the hige bed, offering her a tissue.
(Don't cry... He's not worth it... He's just a liar... I'm so sorry...)
« Il était si… » Constance started, seeking answers with her own words. « … si charmant… Tellement parfait… J'aurais dû m'en douter mais… Et Emma qui m'avait prévenue… Même toi… »
(He was so... so charming... so perfect... I should have known but... And Emma who warned me... Even you...)
« N'y pense plus » the youngest said soflty. « Je te l'ai dit, il n'en vaut pas la peine… Sean, Sam et Dean vont trouver comment briser la prophétie et on pourra enfin partir d'ici… Tu ne le verras plus et… » At these words, Constance cried harder. She was a real mess right now, her emotions wrecked, her poor heart completly broken.
(Don't think about it anymore. I told you, he's not worth it... Sean, Sam and Dean will find how to break the prophecy and we'll finally be able to leave... You won't see him anymore and...)
Marina couldn't do much, simply holding her tight. As for Sean, he stood in complete silence, not sure what to do. He was completely taken aback by this wave of human breakdown… He, once, had felt it too but it seemed to him like it was forever ago.
The now-familiar gush of cold wind interrupted Constance's sob. Thomas was here. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears, her body shaking with smothered sobs. He rushed to her. All he wanted to do now was to comfort her, to dry her tears… A woman such as her shouldn't ever cry… He kneeled in front of her, ready to take her hands in his, noticing with dread the blood that was there. Constance quickly retreated., refusing to be touched by him.
Backing off slightly to make her understand he meant no harm, he rose his eyes to her, taking time to properly look at her. Despite her tears, her face was impassible, like a wax mask. Her eyes that always shew her true feelings missed their sparks of life. It was like she wasn't in her own body, like she was just an empty shell.
« What happened ? » he asked, anguish making his voice shake.
His eyes travelled between Constance and Marina who still held her friend against her., begging her with his eyes to tell him what happened…. Why were Constance's hands covered with blood ? Why was she crying ? Who was responsible ? He was ready to do anything to punish the guilty one, to dry her tears so she would be again the young woman who cuddled in his arms, confessing he was everything to her. He swore that if Sam was somehow responsible of her sorrow, he…
« We know » Marina whispered, not daring to look at the hurt in his eyes.
His perfect face paled immediately, his posture still, a huge sorrow mixed with a wave of terrifying anger reflected in his blue eyes. How could they know ? What did they know ? No, it must be something else… It was impossible they had discovered what he had done, who he really was… or rather, who he once was… this man, this monster he wasn't anymore… This monster he didn't want to be since he had met her… Constance… The worst just had came true… She knew… He just had lost her… He had lost her even before she was his… She knew… But what did she know exactly ? Did she know everything ? Would she let him a chance ?
He gathered the little courage and all the hope he still had and dived his eyes into the now-cold ones of the young woman, silently begging her to answer the questions he didn't dare to ask. She needed to understand why he had done all of this… She was different from the others, he felt it eep down… She couldn't certainly understand…
« Constance, my butterfly, please… Listen… »
« Comment sont-elle mortes ? » her voice colder than her eyes froze him, forcing him to rise and back away…
(How did they die?)
It was too late… Never could she be his…
He forced himself to bare a mask of indifference and looked at her with an almost haughty irritation. He had been hurt by Edith's rejection but he swore it would be the case now.
« Who, dearest ? » he asked with no emotions.
« Your wives ! Pauvre Thomas, si jeune et obligé de faire le deuil non pas d'une mais de trois épouses… Comment cela a-t-il pu arriver ?... La malchance ?... La maladie ? »
(Poor Thomas, so young and forced to grieve not one but three wives! How could this happen? Bad luck? Illness?)
Her voice falsely pitying contrasted with her impassive face. Slowly, Constance got up, never once breaking eye contact with him. The Baronet was gazing at her with stupefaction. She was at the same time fragile with the tears which still shone on her porcelain cheeks, imposing with her majestuous stillness, terrifying with her repressed anger which transpired behind every word she said… Beautiful in her grieve and sorrow… Thomas's mask of indifference fell at the same time he felt his heart beating… He just had one desire… To fall at her feet, begging for forgiveness, to make her understand he loved her…
You told me that you loved me
You told me we were meant to be
You lied and you broke my heart
You told me that you loved me
You used me and you played me
With small steps, she came closer to him, near a small table she held to avoid fainting, nearly falling as her strength seemed to give her up again. He took a step to help her but stopped when he saw her questioning gaze. Unable to look at her when he was lying to her, he lowered his gaze and whispered after clearing his throat :
« Yes… A bit of both I suppose… »
She cocked her head, carefully looking at him for a while before she stated calmly :
« Oui, c'est malheureusement souvent le cas… Le poison a souvent tendance à rendre les gens malades ! Quel malheur qu'elles aient eu des problèmes pour digérer le thé empoisonné que tu lui servais ! »
(Yes, that's sadly often the case... Poison tends to get people sick ! Such a pity they had issues digesting the poisoned tea you served them!)
You told me that you loved me
You broke me and you shattered me
With every word, which maybe I deserve
But I loved you with all my heart
I loved you and you ripped me apart
I loved you and now it's gone
His cheeks redden with shame, Thomas rose his gaze to her just in time to see the vase she has grabbed. The ancient item went crashing against his pale face, splashing into thousands of tiny pieces.
To say that the ghost was astonished would be a weak word. His blue eyes kept staring at her, begging her to forgive him, to understand what had pushed him to commit the unthinkable. She knew about his wives… She knew about the tea… She knew about the poison… And he still hoped she could forgive him… If he wasn't so desperate, he would have a laugh about his own stupidity.
The pain struck him while he felt something roll down his cheek. He slowly put his hand to it and, to his utter surprise, saw crimson blood. Somehow, she had managed to hurt him, to wound him in his flesh. How was it possible ? The blood kept flowing down the cut as he looked at her with guilt.
« Et je dois ajouter que tu as eu de la chance d'être bien entouré dans tes deuils consécutifs… Tu as toujours su trouver le réconfort dans les bras de ta sœur ! » Constance stated with a clod voice, blind to the distress of the man in front of her.
(And I must say you were lucky to be well surrounded in your successive mournings... You(ve always been able to find solace in your sister's arms!)
Thomas lowered his gaze, too shameful to hold her look. She had discovered that too… Lucille… Lucille and him… Their forbidden love… But it hadn't been love and he knew that now. He knew that because he loved Constance. He loved her and he had lost her forever. Another ceramic item flew to him, crashing on his skull, some pieces sinking in his scalp. He winced at the pain, the physical one much less hurtful than the emotional one.
« My love, it's not what you… » his shaking voice was barely above a whisper. He slowly rose his gaze, discovering now sadness, betrayal, anger on her face.
« How could you ? » Constance asked, poison in her voice. « Comment oses-tu me dire que tu m'aimes ? »
(How dare you tell me that you love me?)
« Because I do… Darling, I do love you ! » Thomas voice was begging her to believe him.
« Get OUT ! » she then screamed, taking another vase in her hands. « I don't want to see you anymore ! No near… No far… No soon ! »
Thomas stayed still, his eyes wide, waiting for another blow to come. After all, he deserved it even if all he wanted was to disappear. But his ghostly powers didn't seem to work at this moment. He blamed it on his shattered heart and resigned himself to undergo her wrath.
But, luckily for his body, someone pushed him out of the vase's path. Thomas looked at his saviour to find a very calm Sean. Without waiting for a thanking, the angel grabbed him by the wrist, forcing him to follow him downstairs. The Baronet looked one last time behind him, seeing Constance collapsing in her friend's arms.
Emma's eyes were looking at nowhere in particular, her mind far away. She was thinking about a way to make the Petit Baron pay… If he thought he was going to go easily away with it, he was seriously mistaken ! He would soon see her furious wrath, unleashed only for him. People could hurt her, no problem. But her family and friends ? No bloody way !
She eyed quickly at Dean who was in a middle of a heated discussion with his brother. Unfortunately for her, they kept their voices low. She just hoped they would keep their words and let her deal with Thomas first ! He had no right to make her sister cry like that ! Emma had already seen her sister go through a broken heart and it was – in a lack of better words – heartbreaking !
Bobby was currently screaming at the top of his lungs the name of his ancestor, hoping his great-grandfather would come as soon as possible ! He too had business to discuss with him. During his childhood, he had been really close with his nana Edith. How many times had he run to her place when his father was so drunk he began to hit his mother ? He truly couldn't count… She had been his light during his dark childhood, even if she always had been excentric. But now, being in Crimson Peak, Bobby must admit everything she had told him was true. Which was seriously disturbing !
The sound of footsteps in the stairs made them jump and they curiously waited for the ones who were walking in. In their utter shock, Sean came in with a huge grin plastered on his face, followed by a dazed Thomas… The Baronet kept his face low, fresh blood dripping from a wound on his cheek.
« What happened ? » Sam asked promptly, looking at Thomas with wide eyes.
« Constance threw three vases at him… » Sean said, still smiling. « She wounded him… »
« Since when a ghost can… » Dean began to ask, curiosity shining in his eyes, before Emma interrupted him.
She rushed toward the Baronet and took his chin between her small fingers, forcing him to look into her eyes. Immense sorrow was filling his blue orbs.
« We know everything… » she said, her voice threatening. « How could you do that to Constance ? She is innocent in all of this crap ! Just 'cause you love someone doesn't mean you should stick around and screw up their life ! Well, that's considering you even love her ! After all, Mister I-slept-with-my-sister, are you even capable of love ? You're a monster ! » Then, Emma's hand flew hard, hitting his cheek with a strength she didn't know she possessed.
Ça mon vieux tu vas...
Ça mon vieux tu vas me le payer
La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid
Et tu vas te glacer d'effroi
En constatant mon appétit
Et loin d'être petit, petit,
Tu peux prendre tes jambes à ton cou
Vite avant que je te le torde
Ce qui ressemblerait encore beaucoup trop
A de la miséricorde
Tu regrettes tes écarts
Mais maintenant c'est trop tard
Mon vieux t'es un connard
Avec un grand C,
Fallait pas commencer
« If only you were not already dead, I would kill you on spot, you bloody freak ! You don't deserve someone like my sister ! » Emma continued, each word said like a gunshot.
« I'ld hold him down while you'd knife him… » Dean shrugged, getting slowly near them, grinning sly at the Baronet.
Thomas was completely dumbstruck with the new-discovered fierce of Constance's young sister. He clearly had misjudged her. He stood awash in self-disgust and desolation. He was in a paroxysm of despair. Curiously, the agony on his face stabbed Emma through the heart. She quickly shook her head, refocusing on the hurt he had brought on her sibling.
« Why don't you disappear, Petit Baron ? Why don't you leave her alone ? You're a fucking asshole ! Killing your wives just so you could continue having sex with your own sister ? Really ! » Her voice resounded on the huge room as she continued to lecture a goddam hundred-year-old ghost. « What do you think you are ? A rebel ? You think you're a rebel ? You're not a rebel, you're fucking psychotic ! »
« He can't disappear… » Sean said smugly before he dropped the bomb he had to discover earlier. « He's not a ghost anymore ! Actually, he never was… »
Everyone – the Baronet included – looked at him as if he suddenly had grown a second head but the angel continued nevertheless.
« He is a protector, a soul attached to a place to guard it against evil… Protectors are very rare and often confused as ghosts because they look like them, at their earliest stage that is. Thomas, here, was killed for his love by his love. That's why he was summoned by the house when Marina, Emma and Constance came in. His only job was to protect them. The house knows about the prophecy and it does everything to avoid it. »
« So, he can be killed then ? » Dean asked, a spark of mischief shining in his eyes.
« He can but the house would revive him each time » Sean answered, clearly confused by the hunter's question. Dean bent over to whisper something in Emma's ears who shook her head in absolute incomprehension.
« It's just an expression ! » she yelped, making the hunter laugh.
Sam went near Sean, his head cocked on the side, studying Thomas from head to toes.
« Why, all of a sudden, don't he look like a ghost ? I mean, I read a lot, and the term of « protector » had been mentioned once or twice but never did they say that a protector could regain his life back ! »
The Angel sighed and patted awkwardly the Baronet's back.
« Let just say he found his very own reason to be alive… To start over… With no past, just a future… Well, that is once he will fulfil his destiny and protect the house from the prophecy… »
« No past ? » Bobby screamed, getting up sharply. « So, every life he once took counts for nothing ? Every poisoned cup of tea… Every lies… Every time he slept with his sister-dearest… Gone ? Like it never existed ? » Sean nodded solemnly under Thomas' wide eyes, infuriating Bobby furthermore. « If I get this right, Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet, first husband of Edith Cushing, is not my great grandfather anymore ? »
The Baronet's eyes seemed to pop up out of their pockets, seeing how astonished he was, hearing the old man's grumble. Thomas simply stood there, his mouth slightly open, not really knowing how to react with such information. At this particular moment, he truly hoped he had just misheard but the uncommon resemblance with this American hunter and Sir Cushing was striking.
« Did a cat eat you tongue, Petit Baron ? » Emma asked, folding her arms. « Got nothing to say to your great-grandson ? »
« You must be mistaken, Sir. » Thomas' voice was just above a whisper. « There's no way Edith was… »
« What are you implying, Baronet of my ass ? » Bobby screamed his face as red as the clay below them. « Do not even try to tarnish her memory ! Nana Edith would never have… »
« That was not what I was trying to say » the Baronet interrupted, his face showing nothing but uneasiness. « It is just… I never once thought Edith might be… I should have been there for her but Lucille… »
« Don't worry, idjit… » Bobby mumbled, truly wishing he had something to drink right there. « Grand-Poppy Alan took care of her. »
Alan. Alan McMichael. Of course, the dear doctor had jumped on the occasion of marrying her. Thomas waited for the familiar pick of jealousy to hit him but, nothing by sadness filled him.
« Was she happy ? » he whispered. « Did Alan make her happy ? »
« Well, he was not so bad when he was not drinking to forget his son was not really his son… » Bobby shrugged. « The worst was my dad… He hit me and mum to try to forget the family's dishonor… I was so afraid I'd turn into him that I never had kids of my own ! Well, as fate would have it, I adopted two boys, and they grew up great, they grew up heroes. So you can go to HELL for what you did to nana Edith ! »
Thomas released a breath he didn't know he was holding, relieved to hear that Dean and Sam were not blood-related to him… He would not have liked to fight with his descendant for Constance's affections. Bobby was well within his right to be mad at him and, despite what the Irish man had said, the weight of his past was still on his shoulder and Thomas was not the kind of man to turn away from his family.
« I'm truly sorry I was not there for my son » Thomas said softly, sitting next to Bobby. « But I promise I will be there for you. We are the only family that we have got… »
« Family doesn't end with blood, idjit ! » the old man mumbled between his teeth. « You were never there for me then, you sure ain't gonna be there for me now ! Back off ! »
Emma was surprised to see the hurt in the ice of Thomas's eyes. Was it possible he had a soul ? Could a monster such as him be able to feel something ? Nah ! She surely must be mistaken… For now, all that mattered was Constance. The young woman knew she had to cheer her up, to put a smile on her face again. Constance deserved to be happy, even in this house of hell… And, if her assumptions were correct, Constance had to start accepting Sam or else, the consequences would be catastrophic ! The prophecy was quite clear : the sister mustn't reject the brother ! And, cherry on the top, what she had in mind would piss the Petit Baron off…
« I'll let you with all your family reunion… » Emma said softly.
Thomas frowned. He really didn't like the spark of mischief on her eyes. But now was not the time to busy himself with her… The petite woman went to Dean and whispered something in his ear. The huge grin appearing on his face made the Baronet worried for her well-being. He carefully watched them go away, hand in hand, Dean even having the nerves to wink playfully at Sam as he went by him.
« You tried to kill my Nana ! » Bobby shrieked before slamming his fist on his great-grandfather's nose.
Crimson blood splashed on the Baronet's face as the old hunter continued to scream.
« You know what's funny ? When Nana started to tell me your story, you were my hero… I adored you ! That until I learnt to truth… No one in all her life has hurt her as you did ! Not when her husband needed to be drunk to even look at « their » son ! Not when she witness the wounds her grandson inflicted on his wife ! She loved you, you bastard and you tried to bloody kill her ! »
Bobby was speaking so fast and so vehemently Thomas couldn't intervene. « Did she truly looked like a ditchable prom date to you that you had to break her like that ? She continued to write you know… Ghost stories… Well, stories with ghost in it, not stories about ghosts. It's still my favorite memories you know : Nana, writing with all her might and me, a little boy whom she just learnt how to read, carefully trying to decipher her well-written words… You destroyed her and me as well… You were my hero, the imaginary wholesome family I pictured and dreamt of and everything I thought I knew turned to ashes when I read… Did you really had to sleep with your bloody sister, you idjit ? and poisoning her tea ? saying you loved her even though… ? This kind of thing doesn't get forgiven, pops. If by some miracle, we pull this off… I want you to lose my number. You understand me ? »
« I have something to ask you… » Emma asked Dean, biting nervously her bottom lip.
Chuckling under his breath, he snaked his arms around her waist to bring her some comfort.
« Anything » he answered in her ear, making her shiver.
She knew she had to focus on her plan but it was just so hard to think when he was acting like that, when he was hugging her like that. He smirked reassuringly at her and she took a deep breath.
« Do me a favour, Dean » the young woman said, diving her eyes into his owns.
She had to play her cards good. She knew her plan was great but Dean was an important piece in it.
« I might have found a way to cheer my sister up and to piss the bloody Baronet ghost off.»
There's something that [Thomas Sharpe] will just have to learn
If [he] plays with fire, [he]'s gonna get burned!
I want [him] to pay up for all that [he] cost [her]
And make [him] good and sorry that [he] ever crossed me!
You gotta help me
I can even up this debt
And we could both give [Thomas Sharpe] a night [he] won't forget
Do me a favor! »
Dean frowned but the look of determination in the young woman's eyes was fierce. He simply asked : «
Both? What do you mean both? »
She smirked and hugged him close, whispering : «
Revenge, [Dean]. And you're gonna help me get it.
By the time we're done with [him],
that [ghost]'s not gonna know what hit [him]! »
She heard him chuckle and worry for a moment before he finally answered :
« You always amaze me with the way that you think
You're pissed off
That's so hot
I like you this way
Whatever your game is, girl, I'm ready to play! »