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 20 : Moth and butterfly
Constance had never run as fast of her life, barely feeling the ground under her feet. Fire guns and shoutings resounding in the library when she got to the stairs indicated her Lucille had certainly reappeared. The recorded voice of Thomas on the little wax cylinder filled the air, seeming to come from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time :
« Ding, dong, bell,
Pussy's in the well.
Who put her in?
Little Johnny Thin.
Who pulled her out?
Little Tommy Stout.
What a naughty boy was that,
To try to drown poor pussy cat »
Running to the first floor, she saw with horror huge bloody clay stains, coming from the wooden parquet, like the bloodstains reminding her of the horrible crimes that happened here. Walking carefully to the bedroom, hoping not to inconveniently slip due to the clay, she jumped when she heard something scratch the floor behind her. From the floor, pulling itself out, a spectre of purest scarlet emerged painfully, struggling, sucking its essence through the floor : the spine first, then the back of the head while an arm withdrew as from a viscous, sticky sludge. Bright redbones stretched in unnatural shapes, weirdly, wrongly jointed ; the hand slapped down as if for leverage, purchase. Every part of it red ; the second arm raising upward, digging itself out. And as Constance stared, paralyzed in horror, it began to crawl toward her. Faceless, scuttling, implacable, coming to her, at her, for her…
So Constance ran again… Faster, her heart pounding… New voices filling the air :
« Thomas, speak into the horn. Say something »
« All they want is my money to work on that infernal machine of his. »
« Find my body, take it home. I don't want to die this far from home. »
With a shaking hand, she grabbed the doorknob, ran into the bedroom, the door slamming shut itself behind her. Constance rushed to the bed, trying to put as much distance she could between them and the ghosts. Feeling reassured by the sweet warmth of the room, she felt her heart calm, her breathing becoming more regular… Cowering on herself, closing her eyes, she tried to shut all her thoughts out. Silence… All was just silence now… The calm before the storm… An odd feeling grasped her, an uneasiness twisting her guts… It was too peaceful… It was then the door began to shake so violently it seemed it could get out of its hinges at any time… She heard someone, something bang furiously on the door, scratching the wood to almost ripping its nail off, howling with wrath… The fire in the fireplace wavered, almost extinguishing before being reborn with a new force, lightning the place, nearly blinding the young woman… And, when the door opened sharply, Constance couldn't repress a shriek of terror.
Thomas ran to her, the door closing behind him. He took the frightened woman in his arms, lulling her, whispering with a soft voice :
« Hush, my Love… It's over… You are safe… I am here… It's over… Hush… I am here… »
Constance snuggled closer against him, letting tears of fear and relief flow down… He was near her now… She was safe… They stood like that for several minutes, wrapping in each other's arms, breathing the same air, their hearts beating in sync… Constance, grabbing him with all her might to avoid him to go. Thomas, pressing her against him like it was the only way to know she was alive, she was safe and sound…
I am a butterfly in your hands
Thats where I chose to land
I lost my mind but who cares?
I dont mind, I'm not scared
They are staring at us
Well let them fuss
I feel complete
After a few minutes that lasted an eternity and mere seconds at the same time for them, Constance noticed the blood staining his sleeve which was this morning still ivory. Suddenly backing off and looking at him with a mix of horror and culpability, she screamed :
« Tu es blessé… Thomas, je suis vraiment désolée… est-ce que tu vas… »
(You're hurt... Thomas, I'm so sorry, are you...)
Thomas gently too her face in his hands, slowly stroking her cheeks, a recomforting smile dancing on his face :
« Just a scratch, darling… I am fine… »
She looked in his eyes and melted, seeing only love, adoration and devotion, a glimpse of a promise shining in their ocean.
Because you and me
Its an oath to believe in love
Yes you and Me
Its enough to believe in love
My dear, its all clear
He was so close now, his cool breath caressing her face like a caress. His eyes only on her, in the room, this refuge which gave them this impression to be alone in this world, he slowly whispered :
"No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide-eyed fears
I'm here, nothing can harm you
My words will warm and calm you
Let me be your freedom
Let daylight dry your tears
I'm here, with you, beside you
To guard you and to guide you
Let me be your shelter
Let me be your light
You're safe, no one will find you
Your fears are far behind you
Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime
Let me lead you from your solitude
Say you need me with you, here beside you
Anywhere you… »
She slightly opened her lips, her heart beating wildly, matching the one of the Baronet. Like a dream after the nightmare, he pulled her close and kissed her. It was soft and pure, just a brush of his lips at first. Oh, how she wanted more. She wanted him. Taking his collar, she pulled him closer, closing the awful gap between them. As cliche as it sounded, Constance felt what she could only describe as fireworks between them.
I thought I had it all
Through spring and fall
A ghost parade and yet in
Those thousand years my fate
It was so late to meet your fate
Now we're standing right here
The sky is clear, I have no fear
She moaned softly, his kiss feeling like heaven on her, and he used the sigh to deepen the kiss. His hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her flesh against him. Keeping one arm around her, he pulled her back on the mattress, lifting his other hand to run his fingers through her soft curls. She nibbled playfully at his bottom lip, earning a deep growl from him. The ache to touch each other, to finally feel their soft skin, to become one washed over them, their kiss never breaking apart. Their souls were entwined, dancing with their own will. Their bodies were burning with their touches.
Because you and me
Its an oath to believe in love
Yes you and Me
Its enough to believe in love
My dear, its all clear
His sister spied through the keyhole in the door to his bedroom. She watched her brother performing his husbandly duties with a woman who wasn't his wife, who wasn't her… It was wrong… All of this was wrong…
Thomas was hers. Every breath of him was hers. Every heartbeat. Every kiss. Every brush of his fingers. He belonged to her. He was HER brother… HER confident… HER lover…
That little French was nothing. Just a thorn on her side. Just a speck of dust. Just another awful butterfly that had succeeded to enter her house. Just another idyllic young woman who had melted his brother's heart. She forces herself to ignore the tenderness of his kisses, the passion of his caresses, the hope of his oaths, the love of his tender words… Thomas was Lucille's, only Lucille's and she was ready to do anything to remember him that… even destroying him if she must !
Jealousy's a beast
When it rears its ugly head
No weapon can defeat it
Nothing will make it dead
Lucille's blood was boiling, her fist closing with rage. Anger running cold through her veins, she wiped the remains of her tears. It seemed her flesh was crumbling apart. This little whore was not worthy of Thomas. No other woman would be worthy of him. And yet, at this moment, he was Constance's… this harmless and piteous shiny butterfly… But in this house, there are only black moths. Formidable creatures, to be sure, but without delicacy or pity, eating butterflies to survive… Just like Lucille… Just like Thomas, poor little moth who believed he could become a butterfly…
Dean, Sam and Bobby were scribbling things on the walls which were, according to them, some sigils of protection. But, in Marina and Emma's point of view, they were more like huge awful graffiti which clearly altered the remaining beauty of the old house. The blue-blooded owner of this humble crumbling mansion would be so delighted when he'll get downstairs… Rowena had let herself fall on the nearest sofa. Laying in a languid pose, a hand hiding partially her face, she was loudly whining about the outrageous behaviour of this stupid Lucille Sharpe for who she had worked so hard. A hard glare from the King of Hell succeeded to make her stop for some seconds before she whined again when she saw that one of her nails had been broken during the altercation. By the way, no one had thought to thank her for her precious help and she swore she would never use magic to help people as ungrateful as them.
The youngest hunter tried his best to explain the signification of each symbol to the two young women. Emma shrieked with horror when Dean reopened the wound on his hand and began to draw another sigil with his blood. She rushed to the hunter's side, nursing his wound the best she could without fainting. She glared hard at the King of Hell when she heard him chuckle.
« Whenever there's a world-ending crisis at hand, I know where to place my bets. » Crowley said with a smirk, sipping gleefully at his cup of tea. « It's on you, you big, beautiful, lumbering piles of flannels… But seriously, did you have to make yourself play for sympathy now of all time ? »
« Fuck off, Crowley ! » Dean said with sarcasm. « A little help would be appreciated, if you're not too busy poisoning yourself… »
« I came here to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now… » The demon sighed.
« Crowley, can we get you to help us without the drama? » Sam asked, shaking his head.
« Can I get you without the flannel ? No ! Still, I endure… » the King of Hell smirked proudly.
But, before he could say other words, the room disappeared sharply and the small demon found himself in what appeared to be a pitiful library. The Irish angel stood proudly in front of him, all this teleportation legend was true after all. Shutting down his sudden joy, Sean glared hard at the demon-like if he was still trying to decipher if he could trust the King of Hell or not.
« Seriously, if you wanted to have a little private chat, all you needed to do was ask… No need to brag about your angelic power, featherhead ! » Crowley noticed with a blasé face before sighing loudly.
« Will you help us ? » Sean asked, his voice just above a whisper. « Will your mother help us ? »
« Every Armageddon, every bloody this-is-the-end-of-all-things, a Winchester stopped it. So… I don't really see why they need our help ! » Crowley said as if it was evidence, his focus more on the thousands of books on the shelves than on the Angel.
The demon blushed with pleasure when he discovered the hidden pictures in the book's fore-edge, carefully dissimulated as a pattern until he bent the pages… His dear Mother had been right after all ! And say this blue-blood idiot is playing prude…
From what Sean had understood, the demon had never really loved Lucifer so… maybe if he played that card…
« We both know we need you and your mother… Unless you want the Devil to be free… »
« You know, Sam and Dean, they're like herpes. Just when you think they're gone… Hello! The boys are back, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. So, whoever wants to fight them, in the immortal words of Lawrence Tureaud « I pity the fool » ! They don't need us, they despise us, they… »
The King of Hell, putting grudgingly the debauched book back on the shelf, was sharply interrupted by a sinister and full-of-despair ghostly cry, coming from the attic. Sean couldn't repress to shiver to run down his spine, remembering all to well his encounter in the basement with the ghost.
« Don't tell me you, an all-mighty angel of the Lord, are afraid of one tiny ghost ? » Crowley spatted, rolling his eyes.
« Well, I'm trying to get rid of my fear of these creatures… In fact, I was killed by… » Sean admitted, acting tough.
« That's the spirit ! No need to play the poor and lovable little Angel, I don't care the way you died ! » The demon winked as the Irish's shoulder fell at Crowley's antic. « Anyways, what is it I'll win if we help you ? The King of Hell is not known for working for free, you know… »
When the Devil is too busy and death's a bit too much
They call on me, by name you see for my special touch
To the gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune
To the ladies I'm Sir Prize
But call me by any name, any way it's all the same
I'm the fly in your soup, I'm the pebble in your shoe
I'm the pea beneath your bed, I'm the bump on every head
I'm the peel on which you slip, I'm a pin in every hip
I'm the thorn in your side
Makes you wriggle and writhe
And it's so easy when you're evil
This is the life, you see
The Devil tips is hat to me
I do it all because I'm evil
Your [souls] are all the pay I'll ever need
« All of our plans have failed… » The angel whispered
« No wonder if you had let Squirrel and Moose to plan those plans… And I'm quite sure you gave a little pretty role to Sweeney Todd and Miss Lovett who were all lovey-dovey while trying to poison my mother… You should have seen the state of the kitchen ! There was tea all on the floor ! Maybe you should try plan D for Dumbass ! » The demon laughed.
« You don't understand… Now that Thomas has saved Constance, it means that… "One will be murdered"… Marina is going to be… » Sean's head fell with sadness, tears pricking at the corner of his blue eyes.
« Oh, come on! Why is it always me who has to deal with the whinings babies… » Crowley rolled his eyes « Don't cry ! Don't you dare cry in front of me… I'll do it. I'll help you. We'll help you… That is if I can convince the stubborn witch I happen to have of a mother… You know, Dean's my best friend. My partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels : The Misadventures of Crowley and Moose. Dean Winchester completes me. And that's what will make the ghosts of this house lose their chickens… »
The angel rose his head, an hopeful smile lightning his face. He, an apprentice angel, had succeeded to convince the King of Hell himself and Marina will be safe.
« Just one piece of advice… Avoid mentioning this particular Dean friendship at Emma ! » Sean looked nervously at the demon.
Emma and Marina were standing still in a salt circle Dean had traced for them. It was supposed to protect them against ghost… Marina could hardly believe that Hocus Pocus was right, even if, in that movie, it was supposed to be against witches… and ex-boyfriends… Thinking of boyfriend, she grined as she replayed in her mind her first kiss with Sean, blushing slightly at the want to do that again as fast as she could.
Emma was awkwardly holding the gun Dean had given her, hoping with all her might a shot would not be fired by accident. The gun was weighing heavy in her tiny hand she couldn't help but shake. Sam was right, she would never have had the right to have a weapon like that. It was too dangerous. What if she shot someone she didn't mean to? Damn Dean and his sweet lips! Damn him and his sultry kisses that were able to make her agree to take the damn gun! Despite her fear of the weapon, she couldn't help that soft warm that surrounded her at the mere thought of Dean trusting her to hold his – or so he told – favorite handgun. She growled loudly, still thinking a pan would have made a better weapon. Furthermore, what could they have made them think that leaving them alone in the cold leaving room was a good idea ? All that to help the witch cast a few protection spells and create a ju-ju crystal to do God-knows-what…
« Et dire qu'on pourrait être au chaud dans la chambre… » Emma grumbled, wrapping her arms around her in a vain attempt to warm herself.
(And to think we could be warm in the bedroom...)
« Je ne vois vraiment pas pourquoi on ne peut pas monter ! La chambre du Petit Baron est censée être le seul endroit où sa tarée de sœur ne peut pas monter et nous, on doit attendre en bas ? C'est insensé ! »
(I really don't see why we can't go upstairs! Little Baron's bedroom is supposed to be the only place his mad sister can't go into and we, we have to wait downstairs? That makes no sense!)
« Calme-toi… » Marina tried to reassured her best friend. « Laissons juste un peu d'intimité à… »
(Calm down, just let them have a bit of privacy...)
« Leur laisser de l'intimité ? » Emma exploded. « De l'intimité pour quoi ?! Je te jure que s'il touche à un de ses cheveux, je… »
(Privacy ? Privacy for what ? I swear, if he touches one strand of her hair!)
« Je suis quasi-sûre qu'il ne lui fera pas de mal » Marina winked playfully. « Mais si tu veux vraiment casser cette prophétie, il faut vraiment que Constance pardonne à Thomas et… »
(I'm almost sure he won't hurt her but if you really want to break this prophecy, Constance really needs to forgive Thomas...)
« Mouais, je suis pas très convaincue par cette théorie. Honnêtement, tu accepterais de lui pardonner après ce qu'il a fait, toi ? On devrait plutôt se préparer pour l'Apocalypse… » Emma pouted slightly. « D'ailleurs, j'aimerais vraiment savoir ce qu'il a bien pu lui écrire pour qu'elle accepte de lui reparler… Enfin, je veux dire, comment Constance peut encore accepter d'être en face de ce psychopathe coureur de jupon qui couchait avec sa propre sœur et a assassiné non pas une, ni deux mais trois de ses femmes ! J'irai même jusqu'à trois et demi si on compte la Nana de Bobby ! Et je te parle même pas de sa relation particulière avec la sorcière… C'est complètement dingue mais mais pendant un instant, j'ai bien cru que Constance était jalouse ! Le poison qui était dans le petit-déjeuner doit lui avoir retourné le cerveau… C'est pas possible autrement… »
(Yeah, not really convinced by this theory. Honestly, would you agree to forgive him after what he did? We should just prepare for the Apocalypse... Besides, I'd really like to know what he could have written to her for her to agree to speak to him again... I mean, how could Constance still agree to face this psychopathic womanizer who slept with his own sister and killed not one, not two but three of his wives! Three and a half counting Bobby's nana! And I don't even start on his particular relationship with the witch! It's insane but for a moment, I thought Constance was jealous! The poison in the breakfast must have turned her brain around, it can't be something else!)
Marina sighed heavily and got out the crumpled letter from her pocket.
« Je l'ai ramassée quand Constance l'a fait tomber… Après tout, on ne fait rien de mal si on la lit, vu que Constance l'a déjà lu avant, non ? Ca te calmera peut-être et ça nous permettra de comprendre pourquoi elle a l'air de lui avoir pardonné… »
(I took this when Constance dropped it. After all, we aren't doing anything wrong since she has seen this before, right ? It might calm you down and let us understand why she seems to have forgiven him...)
My dearest Butterfly,
« Bon alors, je ne sais pas toi, Marina… Mais je peux déjà te dire que ça… ça ne me calme pas du tout… C'est juste ridicule… Tu trouves que Constance ressemble à un papillon toi ?! A la limite, un panda quand elle se démaquille mais pas à un papillon ! Ou encore mieux, une marmotte vu le temps qu'elle passe à hiberner… » Emma exclaimed.
(Well, I don't know for you Marina but I can already assure you it does not calm me down! It's just ridiculous! You think Constance looks like a butterfly? Maybe a panda when she takes her make-up off but a butterfly! Better yet, a marmot when you consider the time she hibernates...)
I always believed things seemed clearer when they were written down. And your sister and her friends made me understand a letter would be the easiest way to touch your heart when my voice only failed before. Well, herewith is a very boring letter in which I will try and put everything down so that you may read and re-read it in horror at my folly in wanted to get involved with you.
« Je dois avouer le style n'est pas mal… J'aime bien le passage où il réalise que Constance lira sa lettre avec horreur… Il a le mérite d'être réaliste notre cher Petit Baron… Par contre, il signale quand même que ça va être très ennuyeux, donc on peut peut-être arrêter là ? J'aime bien sa conclusion… Etre avec lui est une folie monstrueuse… » Emma pointed with sarcasm.
(I must say the style isn't too bad, I do like the passage where he realizes Constance will read this horrified. He has the merit of being realistic, our dear little baron... However, he does warn her about this being boring so maybe we can stop there ? I like his conclusion, being with him is a monstrous madness !)
« Chut, Emma… J'aimerai bien lire la suite, moi ! » Marina pouted, without looking anywhere but the letter.
(Hush, Emma, I'd like to read the rest!)
To begin with I love you with a depth and passion that I have felt for no one else in this life nor in the one before and if it astonishes you it astonishes me as well. Not I hasten to say, because you are not worth loving. Far from it. It's just that, first of all, I swore I would not get involved with another woman. I sincerely regret my past mistakes in this matter. I was young and blind to the sins I perpetrated. But, it seems to me I found my sight again since I've met you and it's quite difficult to me, I confess, to look back for the first time at the awful truth of the monster I once was… I promise you, my Butterfly, I'm doing the best I can to destroy the man I was.
« Mais pourquoi il n'a pas tenu sa promesse de ne plus être avec une autre femme, genre, la première fois qu'il s'est marié… » Emma asked, disbelieved. « Comme si tout a coup, il avait changé et il était capable de rester fidèle… Jamais Constance n'a pu lui pardonner avec ces foutaises ! »
(But why couldn't he keep his promise to never be with another woman again, like the first time he got married ! As if, all of a sudden, he had changed and was able of faithfulness... Contance could have never forgiven with this crap!)
« Emma… » Marina warned before she continued reading
Secondly, I have never had such a feeling before and it is almost frightening. What I feel for you is not a vile sin I have to hide to the rest of the World. It's not obscure, shameful or oppressing. It's light, and pure, and alive, and colorful.
« Encore heureux qu'il n'ait pas honte d'aimer ma sœur… Il n'y a rien d'honteux à aimer ma sœur… ce qui est honteux c'est qu'il espère qu'elle puisse l'aimer, lui… Non mais il n'a vraiment pas honte de lui écrire de telles choses ! » Emma sceamed with indigation.
(Thank God he isn't ashamed of loving my sister ! There's no shame in loving my sister ! What's shameful is that he hopes she'll love him back ! He really has no shame writing such things to her!)
« Ne sois pas dramatique, Em… Il n'a jamais écrit qu'il avait honte d'aimer Constance ! » Marina sighed.
(Don't be so dramatic, Em. He never wrote he was ashamed of loving Constance!)
Thirdly, I would never have thought it possible that another human being could occupy my waking (and sleeping) thoughts to the exclusion of almost everything else.
« Ca, ça s'appelle de l'obsession, Monsieur le Baronnet ! Et je ne suis pas sûre que ça soit une bonne chose… Tu sais comment ça finit dans la plupart des cas ?... Le type tue la fille qu'il croit être sa copine quand il se rend compte qu'elle ne l'aime pas ! » Emma added, her uneasyness growing.
(This is called obsession, Mister Baronnet! I'm not sure it's a good thing, you know how it ends in most cases? The guy kills the girl he believes to be his sweetheart when he realizes she doesn't love him back!)
Marina just rolled her eyes… For her part, she found it rather romantic.
Fourthly, I never thought that — even if one was in love — one could get so completely besotted with another person, so that a minute away from them felt like a thousand years. It seems to me, since my death, I only lived in the waiting to meet you. And this expectation only seemed to be a blink of an eye in comparison of your absence when you sleep, which forces me to spend the night watching you, admiring you, wondering if I'm part of your dreams. I'm sure that if I could dream, you would be in all of mine. But I am so afraid to not find you when I wake that sleep has deprived me.
« Je rêve où ce pervers vient juste de dire qu'il passe toute la nuit dans NOTRE chambre à la regarder dormir ! Il est complètement malade… » Emma screamed. « Et dire que je me souviens que Constance se moquait de moi quand je trouvais super mignon qu'Edward passe ses nuits à regarder dormir Bella… Et là, elle lui dire rien du tout ? On ne passe pas du « c'est super glauque » à « c'est super mignon » en un claquement de doigt… Il lui a retourné les méninges, c'est pas possible autrement ! Et tu ne connais pas la meilleur, ça ne dérange absolument pas le Petit Baron de la réveiller – et moi par la même occasion – à 4h du matin pour savoir si elle l'aime. Moi, à 4h du matin, je n'aime personne, je DORS. Et, crois-le ou non, elle s'est mise à chanter en plus ! »
(Am I dreaming or did this creep just say he spent the whole night in our room watching her sleep? He's nuts! To think Constance used to mock me when I found that it was cute that Edward was spending his nights watching Bella sleep... And here, she stays silent? You don't go "that's super creepy" to "that's super sweet" in the bat of an eye! He scrambled her brain, it can't be possible otherwise! You don't know the best of it: it doesn't bother Little Baron to wake her up, and me by extension, at 4.00 AM to know if she loves him. I, at 4.00 AM, I don't love anyone, I sleep! Believe it or not, she even started to sing!)
Fifthly, I never hoped, aspired, dreamed that one could find everything one wanted in a person. I was not such an idiot as to believe this was possible. Yet in you I have found everything I want: you are beautiful, joyful, giving, gentle, idiotically and deliciously feminine, sexy (Samuel assured me it was a compliment nowadays), wonderfully intelligent and wonderfully silly as well. I want nothing else in this life than to be with you, to listen and watch you (your beautiful voice, your beauty), to argue with you, to laugh with you, to show you things and share things with you, to explore your magnificent mind, to explore your wonderful body, to help you, protect you, serve you, … not to put too fine a point on it I consider that I am the only man outside mythology to have found the crock of gold at the rainbow's end.
« N'en jetez plus la cour est pleine… Et je rêve ou il a écrit qu'il voulait « explorer son corps » ! C'est un grand malade ! » Emma exclaimed. Marina barely succeeded to catch her before her firend went out of the salt circle.
(Adding insult to injury! Am I dreaming or did he say he wanted to explore her body?! He's a madman!)
« Calme-toi Em… ça doit être un genre de licence poétique et je ne pense pas qu'on doive le prendre au sens propre… A l'époque, ils attendaient le mariage, tu sais… » Marina attempted.
(Calm down, Em it must be some kind of poetic licence and I don't think it has to be taken quite so literally.)
« Parce que tu crois qu'il a épousé sa sœur ? Laisse-moi lui régler son compte, à ce pervers ! »
(Because you think he married his sister ? Let me handle this pervert!)
Marina winced when she saw Emma's anger rise.
« Constance est une grande fille tu sais, elle est tout à fait capable de repousser les ardeurs de Sir Sharpe… respire un bon coup et continuons de lire… Je suis sûre que c'est juste une façon de parler… Et puis Dean, nous a dit de ne pas sortir du cercle ! »
(Constance's a big girl you know, she's perfectly capable of letting down Sir Sharpe's advances... Breathe, let's keep reading, I'm sure it's just a way to speak and Dean asked us to not come out of the circle anyway!)
But — having said all that — let us consider things in detail. Don't let this become public but… well, I have one or two faults. Minor ones, I hasten to say. For example, I am inclined to be a workaholic. I am it for the best possible motives (all tyrants say that) but I do tend (without thinking) to let my work take all of my time and to spend all I have to achieve a project. Creation has always been an escape from me, a world where I could find refuge. I can spend entire days imagining and creating new items without caring for my needs or the ones I care about. You must tell me when I am doing it to you, my sweet, because it can be a very bad thing for our future.
« Mais bien sûr que rien de tout ça ne va être rendu public… » Emma smiled wickedly. « Mais s'il croit qu'il a un futur avec Constance, il se trompe lour-de-ment, c'est moi qui te l'dis ! »
(But of course none of this is going public ! If he thinks he has a future with Constance, he clearly is mistaken, I'm telling you.)
Second blemish. This, actually, is not so much a blemish of character as a blemish of circumstance. Darling I want you to be you in your own right, and I will do everything I can to help you in this. But you must take into consideration that I am also me in my own right and that I have a headstart on you… what I am trying to say is that you must not feel offended if you are sometimes treated simply as my wife. But I was and intend to become again an established gentleman in the world, returning its former glory to my title, and so — on occasions — you will have to live in my shadow. Nothing gives me less pleasure than this but it is a fact of life to be faced.
« Et elle accepte encore d'être en sa compagnie alors qu'il a écrit ça ?! Mais bien sûr que non, Constance ne va pas le prendre mal si les gens la traitent inférieurement, sale pervers égocentrique ! Il ne faut surtout qu'elle face de l'ombre au si honorable Sir Thomas Sharpe ! » Emma screamed, wrestling with her best friend to go upstairs and put her fist on the Baronet's nose. It… was… enough !
(And she accepts being in his company after he wrote that?! But of course Constance won't take badly that people will treat her as an inferior, dirty egotistical pervert! She mustn't shadow the oh so honourable Sir Thomas Sharpe!)
« Emma, calme-toi… » Marina said through gritted teeth.
(Emma, calm down...)
Yet, she had to agree with Emma. Wanting Constance to be a perfect, obedient and silent housewife whose sole purpose is to smile and make a good impression was revolting.
« La lettre n'est pas finie… »
(The letter's not over.)
Third (and very important and nasty I never have suspected before you and your eccentric outfit) blemish: jealousy. I don't think you know what jealousy is (thank God) in the real sense of the word. What I have got is a black monster that can pervert my good sense, my good humour and any goodness that I have in me. Most of the time, I can control it, and my monster slumbers and nothing happens to awake it. But I felt my monster stir and become half awake when I saw you with this American hunter, and with the sight of your romantic dinner with him, my monster came out of its lair, black, irrational, bigoted, stupid, evil, malevolent. You will never know how terribly corrosive jealousy is; it is a physical pain as though you had swallowed poisoned tea or red hot coals. It is the most terrible of feelings. But you can't help it — at least I can't, and God knows I've tried.
« Et voilà qu'on est en plein dans Into the woods… Manquerait plus qu'il ouvre sa chemise en l'arrachant... » Emma mumbled avant de s'exclamer :
(And now we're in an Into the woods vibe... We just need him to open his shirt by ripping it apart...)
« Ah, Agony, misery, woe not to know what you miss, while they lie there for year and you cry on their biers. What unbearable bliss, agony that can cut like a knife ! »
« Oui mais bon, il y a personne pour lui dire qu'il va être plus malheureux que lui là… » Marina whispered, shaking her head.
(Yeah but there's no one to tell him he's gonna be more miserable than him right now...)
Furthermore, I know I have an awful past and bloody spots recover my hands as well as my soul. I really wish I could change what I did. But, alas, no man can change his past, he can only learn from his mistakes and use them to become a better man. If it's easier for you, my Love, try to remember what this dear Mister Nally had said : I now have no past, only a future. I don't want to drag my past into our future and I also don't want you to do it, either. So, let's try to forget my late wives and your date with Samuel. Remember I am jealous of you because I love you. You are never jealous of something you don't care about.
« Ne te sers pas de Sean comme ça ! » Marina sighed.
(Don't use Sean like that!)
« Tout ça me fait penser à cette chanson : « Il faut oublier, tout
peut s'oublier »… Enfin, dans son passé, il y a des trucs qu'il nous reste bien en travers, quand même… m'enfin bon… » Emma mumbled.
(All of this makes me think of the song: you have to forget, everything can be forgotten... Well, in his past, some things are still stuck in our throats so...)
And I really care about you… Truly and deeply… I want to spend my entire new life at your side… I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. I want to hold you in the deep of the night and in the bright light of the day. I want you to be mine and mine only. God himself seems to push us together. Our hearts and our souls are the only things that could avoid that dreadful prophecy. I came back from the dead to be with you. I am like a moth whose lures to the candlelight, unable to resist the pull, even if it leads me to my death because, living without you is impossible for me.
I do have the hope you will now be able to clearly see the depth of my feelings for you and my want to build a future with you, my Darling, my sweet Butterfly, my Love.
Yours, sincerely and forever,
Thomas »
« Oh, je vais le tuer… » Emma mumbled through gritted teeth. « Comment peut-il oser parler à Constance comme ça ? Elle ne lui appartient pas ! Il est complèment fou, ce type ! Je ne sais même pas comment Constance fait pour être dans la même pièce que lui… Sérieusement ?! Mais il faut l'enfermer à double tour et jeter la clé ! Si j'étais pas coincée ici, je te jure que… »
(Oh, I'm gonna kill him ! How can he dare talk to Constance like that ! She doesn't belong to him ! He's completely mad ! I don't even know how she does to be in the same room as him... Seriously ?! He needs to be locked up and the key thrown away ! If I was not stuck, I swear I...)
« Someone looks angry ! » Dean interrupted with a frown. « Not against me, I hope… »
The three hunters had come into the living room while Emma was fumbling, making the two girls not aware of their presence.
« Well, let me tell you, Lover boy » she said, putting her hands on her hips « If someday you dare to write me something like that, then yes, I'll be angry at you ! He is a fucking psychopath ! »
« Rest assured, Doll… The day when I'll write a love letter has not come yet ! » Dean answered with a wink.
« This is not a love letter ! This pervert is dangerous and he… » Emma yelled
« Calm down, kiddo… » Bobby cut grumpily. « It's my great-grandpa you're talking about. »
« So you're surely aware he is MENTAL ! » Emma screamed, her whole body shaking with anger. « I don't know how… » Dean's lips crashing on hers interrupted her, making her mind foggy and her knees buckled.
Deep down, she knew he just kissed her to shut her up but yet, she was clinging to him as if he was the only one who could fix her problem, completely lost in the feeling of him. She abandoned herself in the kiss, letting his warmth and love surround her.
« You can't trust anyone these days » the mocking voice of Crowley who had just appeared with Sean and Rowena made the two lovers break apart, out of breath and flushed.
« We're gone one minute and they're at it like rabbits… »
« Oh Fergus dear, you shouldn't have interrupted them… » the witch chastised gently, smirking evily. « They were putting on a great show… Maybe there was a chance for them to go fifth base… »
« There's not such things as fifth base ! » Dean mumbled, trying to rearrange his flannel shirt the best he could.
« Oh, you poor, sheltered boy… » Crowley's mother sighed. « If you're nice to auntie Rowena, maybe she… »
« I propose to go out get dinner ! » Sean practically yelled, looking so uncomfortable it was almost comical. « I mean, every meal we could cook here would be poisoned so our best chance is probably one of these fast-food like the other time… »
A rustling of wings resounded and he was gone, having not even waited for an answer.
« This angel is a bit of a prima donna if you ask me… » Rowena rolled her eyes before smirking, apparently very proud of herself.
Sighing loudly, Marina took a step out the salt circle and announced softly :
« I go upstairs to warn Constance and Thomas the dinner will be here soon… »
« I come with you ! » Emma rushed to her best friend only to be stopped by strong muscular arms wrapping around her waist.
« Oh, no, I think not… » Dean whispered on her neck, his breath sending chills on her skin. « A dead Baronet is unfortunately not what we need right now, love…Besides, I need you here. »
« For ? » Emma asked, pouting.
« Ever » he whispered in her ear, kissing lightly her neck.
Thomas was watching Constance sleeping, her eyelashes as delicate as butterfly wings, her lips slightly open in a content smile. Her cheeks were still flushed and the slow rise and fall of her chest hypnotised him. Her brown hair was forming a halo, contrasting on the white pillow, her wild curls scattered around her face. Smiling softly, he stroked softly her cheek, his hand slowly falling in her tresses and the memory of the first time he had touched her hair flashed behind his eyelashes.
His heart squeezed painfully as he remembered her cry of pain when he had ripped the golden moth off her delicate hairdressing, the look of hurt and incomprehension in her beautiful eyes.
The bitter taste of self-disgust filled his mouth. He was still a monster and he just had corrupted her. In his quest of finding redemption, he had dragged her into his darkness. He could clearly see now that his love was twisted and filthy. He wasn't worthy of even looking at a pure heart like her and yet, for a moment, he had forgotten it and he had tarnished her.
I am nothing
You are wind and water and sky
Tell me
How I can earn your love
I would swim oceans
I would move mountains
I would do anything for you
What do you want me to do?
I am unworthy of your love
Let me prove worthy of your love
Tell me how I can earn your love. Set me free
How can I turn your love to me?
Afraid of what he could do, he got up, slowly untangled him from the warmth of her arms, quickly wrapping one of the sheets around his waist. The air was cold, colder than it had always been since she had entered it. Kneeling at the fireplace, he revived the fire, the sensual dance of the flames remembering him her soft touches.
A glimpse of gold caught his attention, the purity of the metal so alike Constance. Quickly getting back on his feet, he took the golden piece of fabric that had attracted him and started to work. It was like a vital need for him. He couldn't stop himself cutting, sewing, bending. He needed to prove her that all was not ending once he would walk out of this door. This present would be him offering his own heart, like he had never done before. Smiling proudly, he looked carefully at the golden moth with wings that opened and closed when you pulled on a string that connected the wings to a thread down the moth's back. A symbol of her and a piece of him.
A soft knock on the door awoke Constance and made Thomas jumped, almost losing his presence in the fire.
« Sean had left to bring us dinner… Time to join everyone downstairs ! » Marina's voice was muffled by the thickness of the wood.
« On arrive ! » Constance grumbled, pulling the sheets over her head, sighing as her head fell on the soft pillow.
(We're coming down!)
Laughing softly, Thomas went to sit near her, catching her through the sheets to bring her near him. Her giggles filled the room as he tried to find her despite the sheets.
Finally free, she jumped on him, her lips crashing on his. She felt him smile through the kiss and she tried to put all of her love for him in it. Gently pushing her away, the need for air too much present to be ignored, he put his forehead against hers. The happiness in her eyes made his heart swell and a rush of confidence filled him. Gone was his self-deflection. Her laugh filled the room with a new warmth and he couldn't resist laughing with her. He didn't remember such a happy and innocent moment in his past. He wanted to stop the time and make this moment last forever… He wanted to be the man she saw.
Lightly kissing her nose, he took the present and put it in her hands.
« I've made it for you… » the Baronet whispered softly raising slowly his hand to show the little golden butterfly. « A little token of my affection. You, my love, are a butterfly who has come lighten my days filled with moths ». His lips brushed hers, tempting her in the most agonizing way before he finally captured her mouth in a gentle and passionate kiss. Thomas's lips moved to her neck, caressing, kissing her skin.
« I never want to leave this room… » Constance sighed with contentment. « Never… »
Thomas chuckled lightly before resting his cheek on the top of her hair.
« Me neither… And yet, despite I agree with you, I fear your sister will come to get us in person if we do not go downstairs ».
She giggled before sitting at the edge of the bed, her slender legs dangling in the air. Taking her skirt on the floor, she started to re-dress herself. A small butterfly went flying near her, quickly followed by a moth who appeared to be chasing after the delicate insect. Thomas went near the young woman, shooting the moth which had laid in her hair away before helping Constance with her corset, having already gotten dressed.
« These moths have always frightened me when I was a child » the Baronet confessed, his long hand working with skills at the lacing of her back.
« You are afraid of butterflies ? Why ? Ce sont des créatures plutôt inoffensives… contrairement aux araignées… ou aux guêpes… ou aux frelons… ou aux moustiques… » s'étonna la jeune femme.
(They are quite harmless creatures, unlike spiders or wasps, hornets and mosquitos.)
« Not butterflies, dear ! Moths… I thought – well I still do – that they were the souls of the colliers who died, in the clay colliery under the house. » Thomas explained, an amused smile on his thin lips.
« Who made you believe that ? » Constance asked, turning to face the young man.
He sighed and tried to hide his uneasiness before whispering :
« Lucille… I should be seven at the time when there was an accident in the collieries. When they brought the dead bodies out of the colliery, we couldn't tell what was blood and what was clay… It's a horrific sight I wish for no one to see… Most of them were just children, barely older than me… The attic was filled with these horribles insects… At night, they were flying near the candle, projecting scary shadows on my bedroom's walls… Lucille would run when she heard my screams and she sang me a lullaby until I fell asleep. When she killed Mother, she forced me to stay near her body to look if a moth would come to collect her soul. None came… Neither did they come to collect the ones of Pamela, Margaret or Enola… And they didn't come to fetch my son's soul either… »
A sob cut him short, muffling his voice. Constance wrapped her arms around his waist. The young woman put her head against his chest, hugging him tight, trying to bring him the comfort he needed, surrounding him with her love. The Baronet had just opened a door to his soul and torments which tortured him. She began to understand with dread how the man she loved could have become a monster able to do such abominations. His loneliness, his fears, his pain, his grief and the love he felt for a sister who had been the only one to dry his child tears. This pure love which was twisted too to something monstrous… Thomas took her too in his arms, holding her as if he wanted to be the only one with her, as if he never wanted to let her leave. He let go of her hug… Letting her love, her warmth, her sweetness put as a balm on his broken soul. She offered him forgiveness, hope and life in the middle of so much death. Hiding his face in her hair, he took a deep breath and whispered :
« That's why they are all trapped in. »
Constance ruffled his hair, playing absentmindedly with his dark tresses before she said in a light tone, trying to dispel the sadness of his memories :
« Thomas, I think we really have to work on your romantic thoughts… »
Thomas laughed lightly and tenderly kissed the young woman.
Constance snuggled comfortably in Thomas' arms, her head resting on his firm chest while the Baronet was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Everyone was silent, carefully looking at the couple. This was it. The prophecy won't be fulfilled. Constance won't push Thomas away. Lucifer will not be free. Marina won't die. Tomorrow, probably, they will be able to leave that dreadful place. They were relieved, almost all happy.
Marina would have liked to share the happiness of the new couple but she couldn't forget some sayings of the Baronet's letter, worried despite herself for the future of her friend. Sam struggled to forget the icy claws which clamped his guts every time his eyes fell on Constance and Thomas. Dean was just trying to distract Emma who wasn't hiding her anger and her revulsion. Rowena was clearly jealous but appeared to enjoy the wrath and uneasiness of everyone in front of the ridiculous outpouring of affection of Tommy boy. Crowley and Bobby seemed to be profoundly bored.
What a delightful evening they were about to have near the fireplace ! Christmas was just around the corner and it seemed to be the time to embrace the holiday spirit. Just like the song said :
« Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
'Tis the season to be jolly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la »
In front of them stood some McDonald's paper bags, not yet unwrapped, which Sean had laid hastily on the big dining table before rushing to Marina, hugging her tightly. The sweet scent of her hair filled his nostrils as he embraced her, enjoying her warmth and the calming sound of her beating heart. She was going to be okay. She was going to live and he mentally made a promise to be there for her every passing minute of the rest of her life.
Sam, Bobby and Crowley were playing some cards they had found in the library, the old hunter eyeing curiously at the demon whose he suspected was cheating. Rowena was reading an old dusty book, cobwebs glueing the pages together. Her perfectly painted lips twisted into a wince between disgust and glee each time she looked at the Baronet and his new plaything, enjoying the growing tension.
Dean had strategically put Emma to be straddling his laps so she couldn't see the former ghost all lovey-dovey with her sister. Tracing soothing patterns on her back, he was softly telling how he, of all people, had killed Hitler. Emma was doing her best not to turn away to watch over her sister, preferring to dive into the hunter's eyes, teasing him lightly as she played with his hair. However, she couldn't fully enjoy the moment and Dean's muscular arms, knowing the Petit Baron and her sister cooned like two idiots just behind her… She needed to do something, and fast before Dean told her for the fifth time how he had put an end to Hilter's life.
Emma's stomach growled loudly, interrupting Dean's monologue – which she had ceased to listen since several minutes now – and the so-annoying giggles of Constance – by the way, since when Constance had started giggling ? It wasn't like her to giggle ! Putting a hand of her stomach, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, Emma let her head drop into Dean's chest, mumbling :
« I'm hungry… »
Laughing softly, Marina began to give everyone their meals. Emma wiggled to finally face the table, her mouth already watering in the prospect of eating something non-poisoned. Squinting her eyes as she looked at Constance and Thomas to find anything reprehensible, she frowned and said, unwrapping her burger without taking her eyes off of the Baronet :
« Why, pray tell, has Sir-Thomas-Sharpe-Miss changed his shirt ? »
Suddenly losing her appetite at the idea of what could have brought the Petit Baron to change clothes, she turned towards her sister, looking at her with suspicion, watching at every detail… What was she wearing before Lucille's attack again ? Thomas, not daring looking at her in the eyes, blushed slightly before answering, clearly uneased :
« It was tainted with my blood…I was hurt during… »
« I see… » Emma mumbled, taking a large bite of her diner, her scrutinising gaze never wavering off the couple. « It doesn't explain why Constance change the hairstyle ! Can you two tell me what you were doing upstairs ? »
Thomas and Constance looked at her with wide eyes, the both of them blushing hard and answered at the same time, far too quickly for it to be the truth :
"We slept!"
"We talked!"
Constance whispered to the young men as discreetly as possible :
"I don't change my hairstyle each time I spoke to someone…"
The Baronet looked with panic at the woman he loved and forcing himself to look at Emma, tried to hide his embarrassment and nervously cleared his throat, trying to reunite their two answers:
"We haven't slept much last night and… we… fell asleep… and… Constance talks in her sleep…" Thomas then smiled shyly at Emma.
The young woman elbowed hard in Dean's stomach, who was about to choke on his laugh and bend threateningly towards the Baronet before purring :
"Really? And what does she say when she sleeps, my sister?"
« Tommy boy, be a dear and pass me the salad ! » Rowena asked, her mouth twitching in a flirtation smile.
The Baronet jumped and replied without thinking :
« No ! It's not what she said! » before turning to Rowena who strangely outstretched her hand to him.
Noticing his mistake, he laughed nervously and complied immediately before contemplating his meal, avoiding to cross Emma's look, not before she would have forgotten the question she had asked him. Sean had given him with a benevolent smile a hamburger wrapped in a greased paper, thinking his aversion from yesterday came from the carton and not from the food itself. How could people enjoy eating that ? It looked… disgusting. And his previous taste of it clearly didn't incline him to repeat this experience. Preferring to take care of Constance, he gently wrapped an arm around her waist. The young woman turned to him, smiling and asked him if she could taste what Sean had brought to him. Forcing a smile on his face, he carefully took the hamburger and placed it in his love's waiting mouth.
Ca dégouline d'amour,
C'est beau mais c'est insupportable.
C'est un pudding bien lourd
De mots doux à chaque phrases :
« Elle est bonne ta quiche, amour »
« Mon cœur, passe moi la salade »
Et ça se fait des mamours,
Se donne la becquée à table.
Ce mélange de sentiments
Aromatisé aux fines herbes
Me fait sourire gentiment
Et finalement me donne la gerbe !
« You know, Sir-Thomas-Sharpe-Miss, the pandarmotte can eat on her own… » Emma said with a smirk. « This kind of animal is not really used to be fed. »
« I am sorry but I am afraid I don't understand what you are talking about. » Thomas frowned, cocking his head on the side.
« Me neither… » Constance looked curiously at her sister, wondering what stupidity she had invented again.
« Oh, right, you don't know… For your information, Constance's not a butterfly but a pandarmotte. You see, it's a mix between a panda and a marmot. A really cute animal who can, apparently, be easily fooled when it comes to the heart but, thanks to its family, the pandarmotte always see the truth at the end and there… well… be warned ! It can become a very nasty little thing… » Emma winked, trying hard not to laugh in front of a very confused Thomas, his cheeks still red, and a very angry Constance.
« He looks so delicious, doesn't he ? » Rowena whispered, laying her chin on her hand, her eyelashes fluttering at the Baronet, not listening to a word that was exchanged. « Well, considering his dead wives, he's not really relationship material, though. »
« Mother, you're drooling… » Crowley chastised the witch, elbowing her arm so her face fell. She avoided the fall with grace as her son ate his burger. « Get a hold on yourself ! » he advised. « He is obviously taken. »
« Oh, my wee sausage ! » Rowena purred, taking Crowley's face in her hands, making San and Dean almost spit out their drinks at the stupid surname. « You obviously know nothing, do you ? I am a woman. I have desires… Needs… And Tommy boy is… He's not the brightest bulb but he is so… firm ! »
« Please, stop talking ! » Crowley muttered, his face turning red.
« But it's true… » She smiled wickedly. "You can just ask the blushing little French girl. She could confirm it first hand! »
Constance stared at her for a moment before answering with a mischievous smile :
« I dare to hope you are talking about his firmness of spirit… In that case, I give it to you, he is really stubborn… When he has set up his mind, it's impossible to make him change his mind. Talking about his passions, he blindly focused on them!"
« Yes, that's lovely… But I was talking about his English countryside, athletically firm and artistically hilly… A pleasure for the eyes… and the hands… Isn't it? It's just my humble opinion, Dean, but I think these two would be able to explain everything there is to know about fifth base!" Rowena was precise with an innocent smile.
Thomas, blushing hard, secretly hoping he still had the ability to disappear and praying for Emma not to decide to make worst this already catastrophic and humiliating discussion, shifted uncomfortably on his chair and attempted to be lost on the contemplation of his meal, noticing the lipstick trace Constance had left on the bread. Constance was too thunderstrucked by Rowena's words to say anything. Emma who was looking with awe at Rowenaand was about to jump at Thomas's throat when she connected Rowena's « fifth base » and the "exploration" of Constance's "wonderful body" mentioned in the Baronet's letter when Dean decided to quickly kiss her. Sam's eyes, who blushed almost as hard as the Baronet, moved in horror between Constance and Thomas while Bobby was just mumbling something incomprehensible in his teeth. Crowley was chewing with dignity his hamburger, smiling with a superior look seeming to say "I knew it!". Sean was lost, lost in his thoughts as he was still trying to understand the little discussion about the pandarmotte, looking worrying around him, nervous this mysterious animal could steal his meal. Marina was looking at everyone sitten at the table, her eyes almost popping out of her sockets at their behaviour.
« Seriously ! » She said, shaking her head. « Don't you have another subject of discussion ? One could believe you're obsessed… »
« But I am. I am obsessed with Tommy boy ! » Rowena sighed loudly.
« Rowena, he's clearly not into you » Sam said, annoyed « Game over, all right ? Be like Elsa… Let it go. »
« Be like Elsa ? Really Samuel ?! » Rowena looked at him, frowning. « Say things like that again and I'll turn you into a moose ! »
« It's alright, Rowena… » Dean chuckled, flashing her his signature smirk. « Everyone knows the cold never bothered you anyway… »
« This is, again, a reference I do not get. » Thomas sighed, absentmindedly playing with one of Constance's locks of hair.
« And I'm glad you don't. I hate that movie. » Constance said before grazing her lips against his, earning a hard glare from the witch but also from Emma. Thomas smiled at her kiss before turning to face the assemble, clearing his throat.
« If everyone has finished eating, I would like to talk to Mister Nally and Miss Emma » The Baronet's voice echoed in the room. « In private ».
Looking at him suspiciously, Emma jumped on her feet. Dean squeezed her hand gently before letting her go. Thomas excused himself, thanking God nobody had realised he hadn't eaten the meal while Sean was already walking away, taking his burger with him. Soon, she was in the library with the Petit Baron and Sean. Crossing her arms, she frowned, cocking her head to the side :
« What did you do ? »
« Nobody died… » Thomas answered, ruffling his hair, uneased with the way she was looking at him.
« What kind of an answer is that ?! » Emma asked, her mouth forming a thin line.
« I was… I… » Thomas mumbled before taking a deep breath. « I know I wronged you and I offended you. I am truly sorry for the mean, awful and yet accurate things I've said, Miss but I really need to… »
« If you made me come here just to insult me, I better go away right now ! » Emma threw her hands in the hair. « I'm too young for these bullshits ! »
« I didn't ask to talk to you so I can insult you. » Thomas tried to reassure her, putting a hand on her shoulder before she could turn back. « I just want to know if you would allow me to have my ring back… »
« Your ring ? » Emma frowned before her glaze dropped on the one she had on her finger. « Don't tell me you mean this one ?! »
« It's exactly the one I was referring to. » The Baronet nodded, his eyes fixed on the glistening ring. « You see, it's a family ring. It belonged to my mother, and her mother before that, and her mother before that, as far as memory could go. I would like to… »
« If you say propose to Constance, my answer is a big, fat NO, you perv ! » Emma roared, hiding the ring with her other hand. « I know you like enumeration so, first of all, this ring is a promise Dean gave to me. Secondly, there's a protection on it and your house gives me the creeps so I'm keeping it. Thirdly, all the women you gave this ring ended up dead ! I believe you understand my point of vue of KEEPING the damn ring to MYSELF ! And don't you dare ask for my sister's hand in marriage ! This is NEVER going to happen ! Not while I'm around at least… In fact, from now on, you stay far from her… very very VERY far from her!"
Thomas' shoulders dropped at her refusal. Frowning, he turned to Sean, hoping to find an ally in the angel:
« I'm sorry but my love for her is sincere and I have no want to back away. Rest assured that I will never hurt her. In fact, Sean said that, according to the prophecy… »
"The prophecy said she had to NOT reject you, which apparently, she didn't… HURRAY! It said nothing about YOU rejecting HER, Sir-Thomas-Sharpe-Miss! So, you forget your proposal, the passionate love declarations and exploration of her body… If you truly love her, you leave her alone! 'Cause, I don't know if you're aware, but you saved her and she didn't reject you, it's over! We can go back home! She's going to leave, Thomas… Constance will go back home and I don't want her to be heartbroken or for her to live with the hope she could be with a former dot-hunter ghost so she could ruin her life! So, it's better for you to back away smoothly so she will not suffer… Tell her… that you were wrong… or better, that she was right and that you are the monster we all know you are!" Emma echoed in the heavy atmosphere, striking the Baronet, stabbing him in the heart far much deeper than Lucille did.
The young woman waited for no answer and went to the exit, wanting to hide the tears she couldn't repress. She needed to protect her sister… Turing toward Sean and the Baronet before she got out, she saw Thomas get out the small moth hairpin from his blazer's pocket. Emma's mouth dropped open :
« It's the hairpin I offered to Constance when we were in London ! » She retraced her steps, ready to take from the Baronet's hands the gift she had given to her sister.
« It's was a gift of my father to… It's not important ! And I don't intend to break Constance's heart or to leave her. I have already made the mistake once and I don't intend to do it again. » Thomas said firmly to Emma and looking desperately at Sean, extend the jewelry to the Angel before the young woman could take it. « Can you please put protection on it ? I would be reassured if something could protect her from my sister… »
« Oh right, the sister you used to shag… » Emma mumbled, looking murderously at the Baronet.
« I'll do my best… » Sean answered to Thomas, not acknowledging the anger of the young woman behind him. « Protection charms are not my best but I'm sure I can manage to do something. »
When Thomas, Sean and Emma returned, everyone was in a middle of a very heated discussion concerning some sort of a cage.
« I'm telling you I'm pretty sure the incantation was Hic cruor messorius, illud sigillum, quod luciferem reverendum obstringit, aperiat ut resurgat » Sam sighed as the witch rolled her eyes. « Or is it Beh voh tah mo en tah beh geh sah bah bah loh en ? »
The happy barking of Beetlejuice cut the argument short, every eyes turning to face the new arrivals. Rowena frowned, pointing at the pet :
« What is… that ? »
Doux Jésus ! L'affreuse chose ! Je n'ai jamais vu ça !
Attention la Bébête, la vilaine Bébête,
Attrapez la Bébête, prenez bien garde à la Bébête
Sean jumped, searching desperately for something weird in the room that could have made the witch yell like that. Seeing nothing, he turned his attention to the group, disappointed to certainly have, once more, miss the passing of the pandarmotte. To his consternation, all the eyes were fixed on Beetlejuice.
« Isn't it obvious ? » Marina asked, bending to pet the small animal. « It's a dog ! »
« I have been around long before you were even born, young lady and I can tell you, this.. is… not… a… dog ! » Rowena mumbled through gritted teeth.
« Who's the good doggie ?... You are ! » Crowley crooned at Bettlejuice, the tiny papillon dog nestled in his arms, happily licking the demon's face. « Daddy Crowley loves you already… Sweet baby dog… You're not alone anymore… I bet you're going to be a fantastic hellhound ! Goodie doggie… »
Emma sighed and went to sit near Dean who was chewing his hamburger obnoxiously. A strike of disgust flashed in the young woman's eyes when she saw him chewing with his mouth open, his jaw working as fast as they could. « Could you eat that any faster ? » she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
« Nope » he shook his head, still chewing loudly. « I cannot ».
Sam smiled at Emma who shrugged before diving into her boyfriend's French fries, trying to catch Dean's attention on the fact that she was eating slowly and with her mouth close.
Thomas sat near Constance, his heart beating so fast he was afraid everyone could hear it. His face fell when he saw his great-grandfather drink something in one of his teacup.
« Bobby, what are you drinking ? » he asked, concern resounding in his voice.
« Relax kid, it's juts tea… » the old hunter replied, rolling his eyes. The Baronet paled even more, his mouth slightly agape. Was his descendant suicidal? « Tea… quila » Bobby precised with a wink before chuckling at his ancestor's face.
Thomas relaxed a little, not really thinking humor was in order when it came to poison and turned to Constance, catching her tiny hands in his, gently putting something in them.
« Again ? It's really sweet, but you don't have to make me so many gifts… » she asked, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Can we really consider it as his gift if I paid for it… and had already offered it to you, by the way!" Emma grumbled between her teeth.
Ignoring the pink-haired woman's saying, the Baronet smiled tenderly at Constance, kissing her forehead before mentioning her to look at it. The small hairpin her sister had gifted her during their trip in Camden Market was shining bright against her pale skin. Thomas cleared his throat and said slowly:
« I asked Mister Nally to charm it… It will protect you. Do not remove it while you're inside this house, please… » She frowned and put her hand in her hair, at the exact place Thomas had violently taken it away.
A flash of guilt appeared on the Baronet's face before he explained:
« I am sorry for the way I had reacted when I saw it the first time… You were supposed to be in possession of the jewellery. Father liked women… a lot… all of them, except Mother… He had a relation with our nursemaid… Elisa… She raised both Lucille and I, bringing us far more affection and attention than our parents… Father gifted her this moth and a jewellery box. The hairpin is the key to turning this simple box into abe me . Elisa played us its lullaby to get us to sleep. When Mother learnt the extramarital affair Father was having with her, she cast her out, reclaiming the hairpin. Elisa left, just like the music… Lucille and I stayed locked in the attic from this moment. Mother had decided to wear the hairpin every day, like a reminder for Father. The last time I saw it, it was in her hair the day she died. I thought it was still with her… you know… with her corpse… and I… I panicked… »
Constance put a recomforting hand on Thomas's cheeks before she hastened to fasten the hairpin in her hair. She smiled fondly at him as Emma sighed loudly. Chuckling, Constance pushed Thomas's burger in front of him:
« I noticed you haven't eaten yet… I kept it for you. »
Thomas forced a smile and took the disgusting meal in his hands.
After everyone had waited patiently for the Baronet to finally eat his hamburger – seriously, who takes one hour and a half to eat a McDonald's? – they all went upstairs to finally rest. Narrowing her eyes, Emma caught Constance's wrist before she could follow Thomas inside his bedroom.
"What do you think you're doing?" the pink-haired woman asked with a high-pitched voice.
"Je vais me coucher" Constance answered with a shrug. "Je te signale que la chambre de Thomas est le seul endroit où les fantômes ne peuvent pas entrer…"
(I'm going to bed. I remind you that Thomas' bedroom is the only place where ghosts can't enter.)
"In that case, we're coming with you!" her sister smiled wickedly, taking a step towards the room just to be stopped by Dean's strong arms wrapping around her waist.
"I don't think it's a good idea, Little One" the hunter whispered. "Leave these two alone and I can spend all night protecting you." He tightened his grip, kissing her earlobe slowly.
"Huh, Dean…" Sam sighed, looking uneased at his brother's hard glare. "Rowena can watch over Emma and Marina while we can furtherly discuss how to build our safe plan…"
Dean looked murderously at his little brother before kissing slowly, sultrily, passionately Emma. He put in his kiss all his want for her, everything he couldn't tell her right now. His kiss meant he was here for her, that she didn't have to worry. His hand snaked at the small of her back, wanting desperately to feel some skin before he had to separate. Her soft moans were driving him crazy, his logic disappearing. They were alone in their own bubble made of their lips and bare skin. The hunter growled loudly when a sudden emptiness and cold replaced Emma's warmth. Snapping his eyes open, he saw her older sister pulling her away.
"Non, mais ça va pas de vous donner en spectacle comme ça ? » Constance asked, her eyes open wide with astonishment.
(What's wrong with you two, offering us a show like that?)
"Alors, toi, tu as le droit de dormir avec Sir-je-m'amuse-à-tuer-mes-femmes, mais moi, je n'ai pas le droit à un bisou de bonne nuit ? » Emma rolled her eyes, sighing, her lips still red from the kiss.
(So, you can sleep with Sir I have fun killing my wives but I can't get a goodnight kiss?)
Shaking her head with disbelief, Marina was surprised when Sean grabbed her by the waist, making her turn to face him. His shy smile melted her heart as he softly traced the outline of her lips with his thumb. Brushing his lips to hers, he deepened the kiss only a little, sensing her tense due to the audience. She blushed adorably as he put his forehead to hers, whispering softly:
"Goodnight, my angel…"
"Well, it only leaves you and me, Samuel…" Rowena purred, poking him in the ribs, batting her eyelashes with exaggeration. "Won't you kiss me goodnight too?" The tall hunter, uneased, made his best to go away from the witch without causing a tantrum while his brother laughed at the situation.
Without turning her eyes away from Sean, Marina took Emma's arm, forcing her to go to their bedroom, Rowena following them reluctantly.
"I don't see why I should go with them… A little salt should do the trick…" the redhead sighed before closing the door.
Thomas couldn't take his eyes away from the sleeping form of Constance, lovely snuggling in his arms. The moon was high in the sky, the house completely silent. Her leg draped over his, her arms wrapping around his middle, it seemed she didn't want him to go, even in her sleep. He sighed with contentment, gently tracing the curve of her hip with his fingertips. She shivered in her sleep and he has to suppress a small laugh to bubble out.
His eyes fell on her small hand laying on his chest with no trace whatsoever of a ring. He couldn't really blame the pink-haired French girl for wanting to protect Constance and it was true the women he had given his ring had ended up dead because of him. Emma's words weighing on his soul, he hugged tightly the young woman. Never would he allow to let her go… It was clear of him that he needed Constance in his life. She was the reason he was alive. She was his everything. He would break his curse, he would make her happy, he would be her world. But for that, he needed a ring.
Slowly untangling himself from their hug, he got up without noise, hastily put on some pants and a shirt before quietly going into the attic. If he couldn't give her his family ring, he would create her one. He would give her a reason to stay… here… with him…
The cold bit his skin when he took a step inside his workshop, some snowflakes falling graciously on his worktable. Taking a plaid to wrap around him in a poor attempt to keep some warmth, he quickly began to sketch the perfect engagement ring on a crumpled sheet of paper. His hand never shook with hesitation, his lines straight and precise. Never had he been more sure of anything in his life.
Once his vision was perfectly drawn, he went to search frantically for a copper cog that would fit Constance's finger. The mess he had made earlier made his search longer than expected but when he finally found one, he began to cut and sand down so a shape of a ring soon appeared. Pieces of metal strands, gold fabrics, wires and gears went flying around the room as he worked his heart and soul out. Soon, a butterfly emerged from nothing, its wings shimmering in the beginning of the sunrise, small crystal beads sewed on them. A delicate mechanism made the wings move each time the finger was flexed. It was perfect. It was so like Constance.
A shrieking laugh startled him, almost making him drop the ring. A chilled gush of wind made him shiver, fear running cold in his veins. A ghost of a breath frowned over his cheek. Lucille.
"You're a fool if you think she will take a murderer like you for husband" her harsh voice whispered in his ear, making him shiver with disgust.
"She is going to leave you, you know, the minute she is able to get out of this house…"
Her words echoed despite herself the ones Emma had spitted out to him. Turning back to face his sister, he hardened his features, not wanting to show her she had succeeded to break his newfound confidence.
"She will leave you, poor Thomas, and you will be alone… All alone in this house you so desperately want to leave but cannot! What do you think she will say when she will discover you cannot set a foot out of this dreadful place? She will leave you, dear brother, and you will crawl back to me… You will crawl back in my arms just like you did so many times before…Weepy, weak, begging for my protection and my love, pitiful… But I will not be there to pick up the piece of your heart she will break. I will watch you cry, Thomas, and laugh at your sorrow… You will be alone, dear brother, you who so hate loneliness… And no one will ever come for you!"
The cruelty of her words crackled his beliefs, a single tear rolling down his pale skin. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, his voice sounded more like a plea than the truth:
"She loves me, Lucille. The prophecy will not be fulfilled and she will be safe!"
"Poor fool!" she spatted, venom dripping from her voice. "She will never be safe! I will forever be watching over her shoulder, doing my best to feel her pretty white neck broke in my hands… I will haunt her, poison her, torture her, make her mind turn so weak she will beg for death… Unless…"
Her face softened, her bony hand resting on his cheek as she closed her eyes, her lips ghosting over his. With revulsion, he took a step back, barely avoiding her kiss. Wrath took over her, radiating with a wintery chill.
"She will leave you, Thomas, but you cannot leave me!
You cannot leave me, even if you tried
You cannot leave me 'cause in your cupboards I will hide
With a knife that is sharp and pointy
I will stab you in the heart
Before I let you break mine
You cannot leave me, you cannot leave me
I'll follow everywhere you go
You cannot leave me
Antarctica, New Mexico
I'll track every map
By my love you will be bound
And if you leave
I'll be sad and lonely
And if you leave
I'll send you fingers in the mail
And if you leave
I will sneak into your home
And i will burn it to the ground
"You will never love her as you love me and she will never love you as I love you."
" You killed me Lucille ! You killed me… Do you call that love ? » Thomas hissed, barely containing the anger and despair that filled his heart.
« And you helped Edith to kill me, Thomas ! Do you believe you are better than me, dear brother ? Do you believe it makes you different? We are alike, you and me… Whether you like it of not, we are bound Thomas, and I swear I will kill anyone who'll come between us… You know nothing will stop me, unless…"
Her lips went crashing hard on Thomas's, her kiss far from sweet and tender. She was fighting for dominance, for power with all the jealousy which consumed her. Swallowing her brother's sob with her hungry lips, she couldn't forget the caresses and happy sigh he had shared with this slut he thought he loved, this slut he wanted to marry, this slut he would probably protect until his last breath. Her cold hand lingered on his shirt, snaking inside to feel his warm skin against her vapouring fingers. It wasn't love but pure hate. She whimpered softly in his mouth, pressing herself more against him, desperately trying to steal his life through the kiss.
« Wake up, Dean » Sam sighed loudly while shaking his brother. "The sun's up"
"And what do you want me to do?" Dean grumbled. "Photosynthesize?"
Rolling away from his younger brother to have one more minute of sleep, he let a loud shriek when he saw a crimson puddle of clay drenching his sheet, a skeleton hand slowly reaching out of it. Falling off the bed as he tried his best not to be caught, Dean watched as the shape of a woman appeared from the clay. Her skull cracked open, spilling some crimson liquid on the white sheets, her face twisted with despair. Her movements were shaky, almost painful.
Her voice came in a harsh whisper, her eyes looking blankly at the hunters:
"The attic… Go in the attic… The monsters are in the attic… Kill… Kill them… Sinners… Abominations… Monsters…" The woman vanished then in a scream both of the hunters assimilated to deep hate and an unbearable pain…
The two brothers quickly ran out of the room, their guns out, waking up the whole house as they went in the corridor.
"What's happening?" the sleepy voice of Marina made them stop, quickly turning to explain the situation.
"Stay here!" Dean's voice was hard and alert, his eyes darting on Emma. "Something's upstairs…"
Without more explications, they ran upstairs, ready to fire.
Nothing could have prepared them for the sight they had in front of them. The ghost of Lucille was straddling Thomas's lap, her hand near the waistband of his pants, her lips firmly locked on his. Unaware they were being watched, the siblings were entangled closely together. The Baronet's face was buried against his sister's neck, hiding his expression from the hunters' eyes but the shaking of his body, barely covered by his open shirt, said plenty of things. How could they have known that his lowered face was hiding his shame and that only his tears were the cause of his shakings?
« Lucille… I can't… It's wrong… I… we must stop… » The Baronet whispered between kisses, panting from her attentions, hating but yet also loving her caresses, hating the ways his body was betraying his heart.
« Thomas, say that you love me… Say that you never love anyone but me… Love me, brother… » Her voice purred, her hips rocking against his.
« Lucille… I love… Constance ! » he succeeded to say, his mind trying to retake control of his body.
A strangled sob resounded in the attic, stopping the two siblings who turned to face the intruders. Thomas's red and glistening eyes didn't linger on the two Americans, diving instead of on the wide eyes of Constance who had succeeded to sneak in without the Winchesters knowing.
Tears began to pool in her eyes, disbelief twisting her face. Never taking her eyes out of him, she took a step toward him but was stopped by Sam's firm arm which avoided her to move. She shouldn't have seen that… She shouldn't be here… Too shocked to resist the hunter, she didn't try to wriggle free. She was shaking her head, unable to control the shivering of her body, unable to stop her silent sob, unable to speak a single word, unable to look away from Thomas, searching in his eyes an answer from all the questions she couldn't ask, looking his face without seeing the tears that rolled down on his too.
« Constance… » Thomas tried to get up but his sister held him tight near her.
The French woman took a deep breath, unblinking and quickly turned to Sam, pulling at his collar to make him bend so her lips could crash on his. She kissed him hard, pulling out all his anger for the Baronet, not truly registering the earth-quake that shook the house.
Fresh blood began pouring out of the walls around them, the flames of the candles dancing higher than usual. The parquet cracked open, separating the Sharpe siblings from the intruders. Black smoke clouded their vision and soon, the Devil himself stood in front of them.
« Good morning, Vietnam ! » Lucifer yelled at the top of his lungs.
Quickly looking around the room, he smirked at Sam, winking playfully when he spotted Constance, still clinging at the hunter's shirt. A cold breeze made the young woman shiver.
« Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite… Anyways, thank you for freeing me. Hail to the King, baby ! »
On these words, he evaporated, leaving a cloud of black smoke behind him at the exact same moment Rowena, Marina, Emma, Crowley and Bobby came.
« Balls ! » the old hunter growled as Crowley's face fell and paled.
Lucille's face twisted with anger when she saw the redhead witch and, with slow and precise movements, she took a paper-knife and hurled toward Rowena. Thomas rushed between them as the knife almost cut Marina's throat, the witch had put the young woman in front of her – the weapon slicing the Baronet's cheek instead. Gathering up all her courage, Emma took the frying pan she had carried around since the gun episode and slammed it on the ghost's head, earning some time to run along with the others. Mad with jealousy, Lucille screamed inhumanly and, passing through Marina's body, disappeared in a cloud as dark and as cold as her soul. Losing her balance by the violence of the impact, Marina was stopped in her run and stumbled over where the balustrade was broken, where Edith had fallen a century ago. Thomas barely had time to turn and grab the young woman's wrist. Projecting on the ground too, he gathered his strength to avoid Marina from falling, not arriving to find something to help him so he could bring up the crying young woman hanging in the air.
Unaware of the drama playing behind them, the others all came to a halt when they stumbled on Lucifer, lazily laying against the balustrade, his hand folded on his chest. Raising an eyebrow, he took Constance's waist and crashed angrily his lips on hers, silencing her scream, whispering a « Thanks again » in her ear before throwing her out of the balustrade with a wink and a hungry smile.
Emma shrieked cut the silence, screaming for her sister who was falling to her death. Dean quickly caught the pink-haired woman to avoid her from doing something hurtful. The Baronet, powerless, looked horrified at the fallen body of Constance, yelling to Sean to come to help him bring Marina up, praying he would be able to save Constance, knowing deep down he would arrive too late.
Time suspended itself, her fall taking an eternity… An eternity to say goodbye… An eternity to say sorry… An eternity to say I love you…
Sacrificed in sacred slaughter
'Neath the pale light of the moon
Your form lies wreathed in ruby red
The crystal snow my wedding bed
A scarlet halo round your head
The scarlet halo of the dead
To Be Continued