Chapter 12
" So, you were an only child then? " Alexandra asked conversationally, leaning back into the comfy easy-chair Veronica had conjured up for her. Sultan rested at her feet, much calmer now. Eyes half closed, he looked ready to fall asleep any moment.
" Yes." Veronica replied. They were back in the tower room with the large window that overlooked a now tranquil sea. Over the night Veronica's powers had built up substantially, and now she felt refreshed, renewed. And thankfully, there was no unwanted company.
In fact, the first thing she had done upon daybreak was to stir the other Ashfords and start them off cleaning. True, she did not require their services. But it kept them out of her hair for the time being, which counted for a lot because she found them to be a most unsavory bunch.
Now she lay lengthwise on the sofa, twirling a black rose around playfully in her fingers. There were more important things she could be doing. Things she should be doing. But what the heck, they could just wait. She was finally getting a chance to relax for a change.
Besides, she had already conjured up a whole host of the most terrifying creatures she could dream up to guard the island. Any trespassers were going to be in for the surprise of their lives! That should keep Discord busy for awhile.
Or would it? Was it even Discord she was dealing with?
It would about have to be...nobody else could afflict me like this. Ever since her freedom, she'd been wracked every so often by unexpected waves of pain and nausea. Not to mention the frequent headaches. This was not normal. Her immune system was impregnable, her healing powers miraculous. In short, she was pretty close to invincible.
Whoever was doing this to her must be quite powerful indeed.
It was for this very reason she should be out surveying the island. Searching for this person. Check things out, see how the creatures were faring. Instead she was spilling her heart out to young Alexandra.
Oh well.
Veronica closed her hand around the black rose and transformed it into a red iris. Who cared if she was wasting time; it felt so good to have someone who didn't hate her guts to talk to after a long imprisonment.
After all, Veronica had a difficult time making friends. A lot of people could just not get past the whole sorceress deal. The ones that did were usually after something.
" How was it that you got into magic? " The ever-curious Alexandra wanted to know. She reached down and scratched behind Sultan's big, furry ears.
The tiger squeezed his eyes shut tightly and would have purred in comfort if not for the fact that tigers--like all other big cats--were incapable of purring. Instead he gave a content 'chuff'.
" Magic? " Veronica almost laughed. She'd practically been born with it! " Well you see, I was born to a Wiccan. My mother taught me some of my earliest spells and tricks. Would you be interested in learning a few for yourself? "
Just as she'd suspected, her blonde-haired descendant was all too eager. " Oh yes please! That would be great! "
Veronica stood up and stretched. " Alrighty then. I can teach you some neat tricks great for novice magic users." She stopped, eyes paused over Sultan. The tiger cub looked her way. " Hey there, kitty! " She purred in gentle, babyish tones.
Alexandra wasn't quite sure what to think of that. Sometimes her ancestor seemed almost sane. Other times she was a total fruitcake complete with the whipped cream topping.
Sultan's tail twitched merrily, and his emerald eyes shone with life. " Mrroowf? "
" Lovely cat! " Veronica chirped gleefully, " He needs a collar." She pointed at the cub's fluffy orange and black neck and as quickly as that a collar appeared.
And not your average plain-strap collar either..
Solid gold on the outside with a silver inside and silver trim, the collar itself was circular in shape except for the front where it dipped into an elegant well-shaped 'V'. The bottom of this 'V', where the two ends met, was inlaid with a shimmering red diamond streaked all over with black so that the overall luster was a dazzling midnight-red. Surrounding this rare gem were emblazoned red and orange flames licking up the sides of the 'V'. Past that were flawless octagon cuts of sapphires, garnets, emeralds, and obsidian spanning the rest of the length. Though it appeared that such a collar should be heavy, it was surprisingly lightweight and Sultan carried it with ease.
It was one of the most gorgeous things Alexandra had ever seen, and that was saying a lot since she'd seen some pretty exquisite things being part of the insanely rich Ashford family. On the market a collar like that would be worth well over a hundred thousand dollars.
Not that it mattered to Veronica. When you were capable of creating matter out of thin air money ceased to be a big deal. A hundred dollar bill? So what. Might as well be a gum wrapper.
Sultan stretched out in true cat-fashion and opened his mouth wide; a big, toothy yawn. He didn't seem to notice the fancy new collar decorating his neck. Paying it no heed, he padded over to a corner of the room and slumped into a loose ball, watching.
Both Ashfords watched him go, then Veronica turned to Alexandra. Time to get the ball rolling. " Right. The magic lesson. Now before we begin, there's something I should explain. Any type of magic requires accumulation of mystical energies. Most novice magic users achieve this by praying to gods and other magical entities. It's a long process that involves rituals, blood sacrifice, and unshakable faith. You also sort of have to have a knack for it, and lots, and I mean lots, of patience. It can take years." To Alexandra's forlorn look, she added, " However, since we want to start out more nowish, I shall endow you with a tiny fraction of my power to work with. That way we can skip all the rigamarole." Her eyelids fluttered shut and she held one palm straight out.
As Alexandra looked on, fascinated, a gold-chain necklace sporting a large ornate black diamond appeared in the sorceress's hand.
Veronica opened her eyes and approached the younger girl.
" What's that for? " Alexandra asked.
" For you, Silly! " Veronica chuckled good-naturedly. She slipped the necklace around her descendant's neck.
The very second it was in place, Alexandra felt an electrifying surge rise inside her body; racing through her veins like lightning. The power! The sheer raw force of energy! Suddenly every sense was a fine-tuned live wire of awareness! Never before had she felt so rejuvenated, so...juiced. Like she could run ten miles without breaking a sweat. Whoa, is this how she feels? Is it even close?
No wonder Veronica was so haughty! If Alexandra felt this way with only a sliver of power, Veronica must feel ready to rule the world!
" Does this necklace hold your magic? "
Veronica shook her head. These newbies. Always so materialistic. " No. What power I gave you now rests within your body, tied to your essence. I could have enchanted the necklace if I wanted, but I figured you'd rather have power that couldn't be taken away and given to someone else so easily. The necklace is just a good luck charm from little 'ol me. Call it a gift." She gave her relative a friendly wink.
" Oh, thank you! " Alexandra returned, thrilled, " Is this going to be like a Hogwarts lesson then? "
Veronica arched an eyebrow, confused. Hogwarts? She searched her internet knowledge and quickly came up with the answer. " Hogwarts? Heh, you've been reading Harry Potter, I see. Actually, yes. The first trick I want to teach you is very similar." She paused to lick her lips, a faraway glean in her eye. " Levitation." Oh yes, she could remember all too vividly the loads of fun she'd had learning that one. It was a very basic trick, but for some people levitating so much as a pine cone was as challenging as trying to move mountains.
However, Alexandra was an apt pupil, and Veronica had faith that she would be easy to train. Besides, she'd already given her the necessary magic-boost--that was half the battle right there. She backed away a few feet and held her right hand palm up. A small white marble appeared in it.
" We'll start with something small at first. Concentrate on the marble."
Alexandra did as instructed and fixed her eyes on the object, giving it her full attention.
Veronica nodded her approval. " Very good. Now picture an invisible hand grabbing the marble and lifting it slowly...slowly...."
It didn't work. For all her efforts, Alexandra could not so much as budge the object.
" What's wrong? " Veronica asked, a little irritated.
Alexandra shook her head. " I do not know. I'm doing just what you said and nothing's happening."
Perhaps she wasn't trying hard enough? She focused harder--blotting out all but the objective from her mind--and still the marble sat there, mocking her with it's lack of motion. Evil marble.
" Okay, this isn't working. Why don't we tryiiiyiiyiii! " Veronica's last word was maimed as she unexpectedly shot straight up through the air like a rocket and hit her head against the ceiling. Now she was stuck there; back pressed against stone, looking down on Alexandra. " Yup, that's the 'ol levitator! " She said with a phony smile.
" Oh, I'm terribly sorry! " Alexandra gushed.
Veronica fell to the floor, landed on her stomach with an unceremonious 'Oomph! '. She gazed up at her apprentice and tapped the digits of one hand against the floor in the classic gesture of annoyance.
" You were focusing on me instead of the marble, weren't you? "
Alexandra's guilty chuckle betrayed her. " No...I mean, maybe...maybe as in just a little....I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? "
Veronica rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Not that there was anything to dust: the castle was kept very clean. " Only my dignity. Not many first-timers can lift something as heavy as me on their first try. You are very good for a beginner."
" I am? "
Veronica nodded and gave a thumbs-up, winking one eye in the process. " Yup! Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to rest up a bit before the next session. I just remembered some journals I've been meaning to read." She went over and literally threw herself at the couch.
It was a good thing she didn't weigh very much.
Once she was on, she wriggled and squirmed like a worm in a mud pit until she was comfortable. " Ah. Much better." She snapped her fingers and a collection of journals appeared on her lap. There were no less than seven, and they ranged in color, size, design, and age. Some of the covers bore the Ashford family crest: the dreaded hawk grasping the halberd.
Curious, Alexandra came over and sat next to her great great great great grandmother. " These look like my...I mean, our family's journals."
Veronica smiled and gave her a quick pat on the head. " Exactamundo. I've been out of the game a long time, remember? I want to see what happened to my son and his descendants. Poor kid. When I vanished, that Idabel no doubt stepped in to take my place." Veronica wrinkled her nose and made a face, " Or, as she insisted everyone call her, I-dah! " This she pronounced in high-pitched, mocking tones, " On second thought, maybe I don't want to know how Stanley turned out with that old bat raising him. Gah, that woman was so annoying. I should have turned her into a seagull so she could go whine to the sailors."
Veronica ran a hand over the aged leather of the first journal. Then she flipped open to the first page where the name 'Stanley Ashford' could just be seen under the bold words 'This Journal Belongs To:'
With a casual flick of her wrist Veronica magicked a silver platter of chocolate covered cherries to fill the space between her and Alexandra.
" You care for a cherry? " She asked, popping one into her mouth.
" Sure. Thank you." Alexandra reached over and helped herself. She noticed that Veronica was reading, and the question she'd been meaning to ask a long time now resurfaced to irritate her. She had to ask.
" So, Stanley was your son. Did you have any other children? "
Veronica looked up from her reading. A wild flash of something dangerous glinted in her eye, and for a moment Alexandra was afraid she'd hit upon a touchy subject.
" Yes." Veronica replied with a bit of a growl. She held up four fingers. " Four. I had four children altogether. Two sons, two daughters. The daughters were twin sisters." She reached for another cherry, her expression angry and bitter. " I'd rather not talk about it. It...it didn't turn out well."
" Sorry." If there was one thing Alexandra didn't want to do, it was press for forbidden information. Of course, this led to some speculation on her part about what had happened to the other children. Perhaps they had died. Or worse. She really didn't want to imagine the worse part. Lord knew she'd already seen enough misery in her short-but-eventful life.
Veronica was reading again now, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to disturb her. The sorceress could get moody at times. I'll just sit here and wait patiently until she's ready to start the lessons again. Or maybe that will be it for the day. Doesn't really matter. I'd rather be up here keeping her company than down there listening to my family whine and curse her out. Mother is probably most cross. She will not want to see me.
It was true. Alexia had low patience where her offspring were concerned. Whenever she was in a good mood, all went smoothly, but when she had a bad day, everyone had a bad day. The whole household would fly into chaos, with her barking and snapping at anyone who so much as forgot to shut a cupboard door. And if the tongue lashings weren't bad enough, her mother was not above hitting anyone any time it struck her fancy. She was really quite rough in the way she treated people. Alexandra was constantly having to watch her P's and Q's.
Veronica noticed a folded parchment jutting out slightly from near the back of her son's diary. Hello, what's this? She took the musty old paper out, unfolded it carefully, and let out a horrified shriek.
Alexandra turned instantly. " What? What is it? "
" Oh, Eeew! " Veronica held the paper up so she could get a good look.
This 'paper' turned out to be a portrait. A slightly-chubby, brown-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned pink dress and sitting on a chair holding a gold-plated teacup was rendered lovingly in faded oils. Alexandra would recognize this portrait anywhere. The above inscription proudly declared: 'Veronica Ashford.'
" Why, that's you! "
" Does it look like me?! "
" Well...no. Not really." Alexandra was forced to confess. The sorceress sitting next to her was younger, thinner, and vastly more beautiful than the woman in the portrait could ever hope to be. No wonder she was upset.
Veronica flipped the picture back around and studied it more, her grimace growing deeper with each passing second. " No....no...this is all wrong. That can't be me. There's been some horrible mistake. First of all, where did some idiot get that I had brown hair? I've always been a redhead! The face is too pudgy. I wouldn't be caught dead in that barf-O dress, and yech! Who smiles that stupidly? Honestly. I wasn't ecstatic about getting the Friggen teacup! " She dropped the portrait in disgust. " Is this really how people thought I looked? Because if I would've known that, I would have broken out of the teacup sooner. Who drew this? I want to murder them! This isn't me. This is some fat ugly cow wearing a file 13 ball dress. Gag me with a spoon! "
She glared daggers at the offensive portrait and it shriveled up into nothingness. Then she shook her head, still in a state of disbelief. " That's not funny. Who thought I looked like that? And how many copies of that farce are floating around? "
Alexandra laughed softly; the look on Veronica's face was just so priceless! " Um...I hate to say it, but there are tons of pictures just like it hanging in every mansion we own."
Veronica's jaw dropped. This couldn't be! This had to be some kind of sick joke. " Oh lord! " She whined, slapping a hand to her cheek, " What did I ever do to them? You know what? I bet this is Idabel's doing. She always was jealous of me for my looks and wealth. I'll bet she bent the truth on purpose. Gees, some of the notes I've read so far from my great-great grandchildren say my beauty was legendary, but after looking at that travesty, I'm not sure how they can say that. Ugh! Idabell's lucky she's dead now, or she'd have some explaining to do! "
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This can't be happening. Ash thought, polishing a mirror in one of the grand bathrooms of 'Castle Ashford', as that ditzy sorceress liked to call it. This should not be happening. Ashfords did not do housework; that was for the maids and servants to worry about. Not the noble and proud Ashford family! It was humiliating.
No, Ash decided as he glided the red and gold cloth over the smooth, reflective surface, it's downright cruel. Where does she get off bursting in, teleporting us all the way to her stupid little island and making us her servants? It's pointless! Bloody bint could just clean this all with a flick of her finger. She doesn't even need us! Stupid witch.
When you got right down to it, what was the difference between a sorceress and a witch anyway? Other than the fact that one was usually depicted as being prettier than the other. It didn't matter. They were both the same in Ash's eyes. And right now, he could think of another name to call Veronica which rhymed perfectly with 'witch'.
Behind him, and a little off to his right, Alexia dutifully swept the stone floor with an old-fashioned broom that could barely push the dirt around. It looked rather odd; a woman as well-dressed and aristocratic as her cleaning a bathroom. Like one of those 'Circle ten things wrong with this picture' activities that ran under the kiddies' section of the Sunday paper. Her eyes were downcast, her thoughts dark and murderous.
All was silent for a moment as mother and son grudgingly went about doing things they'd only had nightmares about before. Then serene silence was broken by an audible flush followed by swiftly by, " Damn toilet! Now I lost my toothbrush! It's ridiculous how powerful a flush these things have."
A highly agitated Alfred emerged from a stall. " This is positively absurd. I don't think they even had toilets back in the Renaissance where that ditzy redhead hails from. And even if they did, I'd be willing to bet every penny I own they didn't clean them with their toothbrushes! "
At this, both Ash and Alexia stopped what they were doing and laughed.
" What's the matter, Dad? " Ash jibed, " The old latrine get the best of ya? " It didn't look like he was going to be getting much joy the way things were running now, so he'd best take pleasure where he could. He'd always had a rebellious streak in him anyway where his father was concerned. Not that the sister-loving pansy ever did anything about it.
" No! " Alfred huffed with as much dignity as he could muster--which, suffice to say, wasn't much--" I was polishing the handle and I accidentally pressed too hard. I was so surprised by the sudden movement I dropped the toothbrush and it was gone quicker than a twinkie at Weight Watchers."
Alexia shook her head in amusement, but the feeling soon passed. She looked at the broom she held in her hand and scowled. This thing was undoubtedly as old as Veronica herself. No way was she going to be making any real progress with it. The over-sized bristles let all but the most behemoth of dirt particles slide by. What a waste of time.
" This is all very ridiculous," She groused, " Had I known that teacup contained a deranged sorceress bent on making our lives miserable, I would have gotten rid of it years ago! " Frustrated, she let the broom fall to the floor. She needed to think of a plan, and quickly. Before Veronica got any ideas about making her the French Maid permanently. But what to do? For once in her life, Alexia didn't have the answer. All she knew about her ancestor's weaknesses was that it involved some entity named Discord, who was presumably a powerful magic-user herself. But how to get into contact with such a person? There was no way she was going to be able to leave without Veronica noticing.
Ash tossed his cloth into a beautifully polished white marble sink which seemed to be of too high a class to be found in an old castle. Feeling bored, and wanting a little break from chores, he retrieved his mother's broom and held it bristle-end back like a sword. Time for a little fun.
" En Guarde! " He made a jab for Alfred with the tip, who quickly recoiled and snatched the mop that was propped against a nearby stall.
" So that's the way you want it then? " Alfred smirked in a way of challenging, " I shall show you what true swordsmanship is all about, arrogant amateur! " He wielded his cleaning tool in the same style as Ash--with the soft mop-end swept back and the wooden handle pointed at his son.
With a taunting smile, Ash began circling his father, like a well-trained swordsman waiting to get in the first strike.
Alfred was not impressed. " You think you're being clever, don't you? " He lashed out with the mop-handle.
Wood splintered against wood as Ash blocked the blow. " Come on, Father." He sneered, a wicked grin on his face, " Let's see if you're truly a sissy, or if you just dress like one! " He twirled back and struck again.
With an indignant snort, Alfred parried this blow, and soon the two were dancing around the bathroom in a frenzy; engaged in their mock-duel. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. Parry. Thrust. The sharp report of stick striking stick echoed off the gray stone walls.
" You call this serious fencing? " Alfred scoffed, twirling away from Ash's 'sword' in a surprisingly graceful manner.
Ash did not reply. Instead, he jumped straight up. A mop-handle sailed harmlessly under his feet. Perfect. When he landed, he used Alfred's momentary distraction to attack.
" Yeow! You rotten little...you're going to pay for that! " Alfred hissed after Ash's weapon collided with his right shoulder. Thankfully, it was not a real sword, so there was no serious damage done. Still, that was going to leave a mark. He had clearly underestimated his son. Wanker obviously knew more about fencing and swordsmanship than he wanted to admit.
Ash grinned widely, pleased with himself. " Then send me the bill. "
Alfred felt his blood boil. How dare that insolent brat speak to him that way! I'll teach him a lesson! He charged forward, mop-handle held out in front like a lance in one of those old medieval jousts.
Ash dived aside in the nick of time, and now Alfred was only moments away from spearing Alexia! Uh-oh. He came to a grinding halt, the mop-handle inches away from his twin's breast.
Alexia shot him a glare that would make the devil cringe, causing Alfred to shrink. " S....sorry Alexia, I..."
She didn't wait for him to finish. She was having a bad day, and when Alexia Ashford had a bad day, everyone had a bad day. With one hand she reached out and grabbed the handle. The wood splintered and cracked in her grasp. She yanked it out of Alfred's hands so fast it gave him a burn.
" Yee! " Alfred winced, examining his now-reddened palms.
Alexia snapped the stick in half. " What are you fools doing? We should be worrying about Veronica! "
Ash dropped the broom as quickly as if it had transmogrified into a live cobra and studied his mother attentively, suddenly all serious.
Alfred backed away slowly, shamed. " Well Alexia...Sister...you said you were thinking of a plan so I..."
" Assumed it would be okay to engage in frivolous horseplay? " Alexia finished, giving him the look she usually only reserved for people she intended to kill.
Finding himself unable to meet her glacial gaze, Alfred cast his eyes to the side and watched his son.
Ash crossed his arms, a smug smile fixed on his fine-featured face.
He's enjoying every second of this! Alfred's thoughts raged. His lower lip curled up in the faintest hint of a snarl.
Alexia unconsciously brought her hand up to her forehead. Why bother? Over the years she had begun to get used to the constant rivalry between Alfred and Ash. The two seemed to bicker and fight over everything. Mostly, they struggled over her affections. Which was perfectly acceptable, but there were times when it was all just a big bother.
" Fine." She announced matter-of-factly, " But don't come crying to me when Veronica turns you both into neutered housecats." She dropped the mop-halves. Let them fall to the floor.
Ash swallowed nervously. He had a very funny look on his face. " Housecats? " His voice came out in a meek, high-pitched squeak.
" Neutered? " Alfred repeated, horrified.
Alexia laughed, a genuine--oh that's really funny!--laugh as opposed to the usual evil chuckle. " You should see the looks on your faces! "
Alfred peered into the nearest mirror, and quickly regained a more noble, regal posture.
Ash was too busy fretting over Alexia's words. A neutered housecat...that would not be fun. " She can't do that, can she? " He cast his eyes up, fixing her with an expectant stare.
" At this point I am thinking yes. Unfortunately for us, Veronica is quite powerful. Do either of you have an intelligent idea as to how we may contact Discord? "
Alfred shook his head. Alexia was the genius, not him. He was the devoted brother who aided her and perfected the arts of killing and torturing. Despite his fascination with the army, he was not that good a strategist. He had always been more the shoot-first-ask-questions-later type of guy.
Once a year or so back an employee had joked that he probably wouldn't be able to brush his hair unless Alexia gave the go-ahead. The man had though Alfred was out of earshot. He was sadly mistaken. The rude man had had a fatal appointment with the guillotine the very next day.
After, of course, Alfred had cut out the offensive tongue and poured searing live coals down his throat. You didn't mess with an Ashford.
" Hmmm..." Ash was thoughtful, " Maybe we could ask Alexandra to observe Veronica? Scope out her weaknesses, get the scoop on Discord? After all, she's the favorite. Little Miss Fluff Puff that can do no wrong."
" Alexandra." Alexia rested her back against the course gray stone of the wall. Though her eyes were turned on the male Ashfords, she wasn't really focusing on them. " Veronica said there was something special about her." And what could that be? She said she was pure...pure what? Pure good? Pureblooded? Pure for some magical rite? The list went on and on. Curse Veronica's vagueness.
" You can't really read too much into that though." Alfred offered jumping up to sit on a sink. It didn't even cross his mind that his weight may be enough to drop the fixture from the wall. The sink moaned under the stress. " After all, Veronica's a little...unhinged."
" So are you! " Ash shot, " And people still listen to what you say, even when you're wearing a dress and using that girly voice! " He snapped the fingers of the hand that wasn't wearing the perpetual blue glove. Inspiration! " Hey, ever though of changing your name to Alfrexia? I'm actually surprised you haven't done that already..."
" But I'm a guy! " Alfred growled, giving Ash a severe look, " And I'll have you know that I gave up the cross-dressing." His tone softened, and he added, a bit sheepishly, " Alexia said it was most unbecoming. She said she was born with a twin brother not a sister."
From her corner of the room, Alexia snickered quietly.
" You could change that, you know." Ash went on mockingly, " They have these operations that..."
" I've heard enough of this! " Alfred bellowed, so loud Alexia was sure Veronica must have heard, " I am not a female. I don't want to be a female. Though I'm starting to think you might! "
" Fun as it is to watch you boys argue over who's more manly," Alexia cut in, " We still have that Veronica problem. Ash, what was it that you were suggesting for Alexandra again? "
Ash shrugged, but did not take his venomous gaze of his father. " I don't know...maybe she could be a spy? She's so disgustingly nice, and like I said, she's Veronica's favorite."
Alexia thought about this a moment. Alexandra was young and very innocent. That made her gullible and very easy to manipulate. The recipe for success. " You may be on to something there, Ash. Veronica is far more likely to trust her than any of us. Funny, I never would have thought her being good natured could be so useful. But when you think about it, it's the perfect disguise for a spy! "
Alfred was skeptical. " Do you think she'll do it though? I mean, Alexandra is very loyal to those she deems friends. She doesn't strike me as a double-crosser."
At this, Alexia stiffened--an angry, hateful look manifesting itself into her smooth features. Her eyes blazed with blue fire. " Alexandra will do exactly what I tell her to." She snapped, and her voice was so powerful, so sure.
" Sure. My apologies." Alfred agreed. What else could he say? In this family it was a crime to verbally disagree with Alexia.
Tiny thin lines were already starting to spiderweb across where porcelain met stone. The wall was slowly giving way. None of the family seemed to notice. Certainly not Alfred, the one in danger of a fall. As if to mock the crumbling wall, he shifted his weight on the sink--squirming to a more comfortable position.
There. Much better. The wall creaked it's disapproval.
Ash spoke up. " You know, maybe it would..." That was as far as he got.
There was a brilliant cobalt flash, and the next thing any of them knew they were standing in a wide stone room. Not just any room, but a room completely devoid of carpet, furniture, or any other distinguishing features. Not even a window. It was completely barren, save two sets of solid metal chains hanging on the wall just behind a highly P.O.'d Veronica.
Damn, what have we done?! Alfred worried, and he had every right to be that way.
The sorceress was entirely aglow in an unsettling blood-red aura of magic. Her flaming red hair drifted in an unfelt breeze, and her pupil-less eyes blazed pure red with hellfire. She stood in the center of the room defiantly with her legs stretched slightly apart and her hands placed firmly on her hips. Those garnet red lips were parted in a fierce snarl. There was no question about it: here was a brassed off sorceress.
" What is it, Mistress Veronica? " Alexia tried her best not to show her surprise, or, more importantly, her fear.
" How dare you? How dare you?! " Veronica roared, " I can't believe you would have the audacity to soil my name with your misdeeds! "
" What did we do? " Alfred squeaked, reminding Veronica of a scared mouse.
" Um...did I miss something? " Ash said around the same time, " We were down there cleaning the bathrooms just like you asked, oh mighty Merlinette." He considered making an exaggerated bowing gesture; thought better of it. There was just no telling what the red-headed magic-doer was going to take as an insult. For some reason, he was struck with the image of being a neutered male cat. Best to play it safe.
Veronica turned on him, and for one horrible instant Ash thought she had read his mind and was going to go through with the terrible deed. " You may go now, Ash. Get back to whatever you were doing. This does not concern you."
Ash had never felt as much relieved in his life as he did when he heard Veronica say those words. This doesn't concern me? Great! I'm outta here before it does! Whatever happened to his parents happened. Naturally, he wished the best, but there was no way he was risking his neck. Off the hook, he turned and bolted out the open door. It slammed shut behind him as if it had a mind of it's own.
Why that ungrateful little weasel! Alfred fumed silently, He was supposed to be on our side! How dare he just abandon us, we're his own parents! But deep down a part of him knew and understood. If it were his father in danger, Alfred probably would have helped Veronica with torture ideas. So he had no place to talk. At least Ash was slightly better than that.
Let those without sin cast the first stone....Alfred shook his head, forgetting Veronica for the briefest of moments. There it is again, that voice! What is it? How do I make it stop? He'd always had that small yet nagging voice, but for many years it had gone almost silent. Now it was back, and louder and more persistent than ever before.
The Voice.
The voice that tries to make me feel bad for the things I have done. Veronica cocked her head to one side. " I've been doing a little reading, Ashford twins. I now know that it was Alexander Ashford, your father, who had been captivated by me. He came very close to freeing me." She froze for a moment, the clueless teenager visage returning. " Of course," She said, her tone much softer now, " He'd always thought I was telling him the secrets of the universe when in fact what I was trying to say went more along the lines of: 'Break the teacup. Break it!' " She shook her head sadly. " Poor misguided soul....What was I talking about again? " She brought a finger up and rested it along the bridge of her nose, as if that would somehow help her to remember.
Neither Ashford twin offered a reply. They didn't want to remind her, but at the same time the prospect of being caught in a lie seemed too high a gamble.
I fear I know where she is going with this. Alexia told her brother via telepathy, I hate to say it, but we are royally screwed.
Maybe she'll forget! Alfred suggested with phony enthusiasm. He did not for a second believe it.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Alexia's expression was saddened. I wish I knew what to do. She whispered softly inside Alfred's head.
They both knew that running would be futile. And fighting would be a joke. Though Alexia would rather go out fighting if she had to go out, it would be wise to first listen to what Veronica had to say. Perhaps things were not as bad as they seemed. Perhaps she could be reasoned with.
It took a minute, but Veronica's lost, dopey image was dropped, and the angry one rekindled. " You! " She raged, pointing two fingers of one hand at Alfred and Alexia, " You killed my chance at escaping sooner! For that you will suffer! "
Though his eyes remained fixed on their enraged ancestor, Alfred's words went to his sister. I don't suppose now would be a good time to bring up 'it all depends on your point of view'? To Veronica, he said, " Well, not technically. Claire Redfield was the one that..."
" I am not interested in your excuses! " Veronica hissed, " You two never got one spanking your whole lives, did you? "
" Nope." Alfred admitted.
" No." Alexia confessed.
Veronica sighed, and an infliction of what just might be remorse filtered through the action. " No wonder you turned out to be such stinkers. Back in my time we had a thing called discipline. Since you've never heard of it, I'll be happy to introduce you! "
" What the..." Alfred stopped as both he and a startled Alexia were sent flying. They collided back-first against the wall--spread-eagled.
Chink-chink-chink-chink! Chink-chink-chink-chink!
Heavy metal alloy cuffs bit into their wrists and ankles. The adjoining chains slurped back into the wall--right through solid stone--until they were taught and held their blonde victims firmly to the cold stone; leaving their feet a good twenty-four inches above the floor.
" Hey! What are you going to do to us?! " Alfred cried, and Veronica ignored the small pleading look he sent her way.
" Why, torture you, of course. What, you thought I got to be the most badass sorceress of my day by throwing tea parties and hosting weddings? I'm not all peaches and strawberries, you know. I can be cruel." Her eyes seemed to glow even more, if that were possible, " Very cruel."
" Torture? " Alfred's voice was a stranger's. It didn't sound like the terror of Rockfort who had said the word, but rather a lost, frightened little boy. His eyes went wide.
Yes, it's not so fun when you're the one screaming, is it? The Voice mocked. He struggled against the chains, but it was no use. His hands were now high above his head and his feet far below. He couldn't so much as twitch a wrist, and the wicked cuff bit painfully deep. No doubt it was constricting his blood flow.
What are we going to do? Thankfully, he was still able to twist his head to look in Alexia's direction. She hung from his left, but from his perspective it was the right. He waited for her to say something--perhaps defy Veronica--but she was strangely silent.
When she at last looked up her eyes burned with the purest, undiluted hatred from the depths of Hell.
Alfred turned away, afraid to look at her. He was upset with Veronica too, but at the moment he was much more worried about what was going to happen to them.
Veronica rubbed her hands together eagerly, sending sparks of magic flying. " So it begins! " Her hands shot straight up, tendrils of green energy crackling around every fingertip. " Let there be monster! " She commanded in a bold, overly-exaggerated voice.
There was a flash of brilliance, and when it cleared both Ashford twins gasped, utterly shocked.
There, standing before them in the center of the room, in all his green and tentacled glory, stood Nosferatu. There could be no mistaking him. His skin was the same mottled, sickly green color as it had been that fateful day back in Antarctica. Thick tentacles protruded from his beefy shoulders and whipped this way and that. Just as before, the only garments he wore were a heavy-duty skirt-like thing that went almost to his knees, and a dirty blindfold over his eyes that appeared to have been there for many years. Every detail was correct: even down to the overly-exposed monstrous heart in the center of his chest and the emerald pierce which dangled from his disfigured left earlobe.
For a moment he seemed confused; swaying to and fro as if awakening from a trance. Then, with an earsplitting scream that was half howl and half roar, he turned to face his treacherous offspring.
Alexia responded by giving him a dirty look. Not that the ugly behemoth could see anyway.
Alfred's reaction was quite different. He whined softly and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow make the hideous abomination disappear. " It...can't be. He died."
Veronica took one look at the mutation she'd created and wrinkled her nose in disgust. " That's disgusting. And people say I have issues. Tell me, is that the result of your T-Veronica virus? " She shot Alexia a queer look.
Alexia did not answer, but instead gazed straight on ahead and seemed to be staring at nothing in particular.
Veronica took that as a 'yes'. " My lord, how dare you insult me like that! From now on it shall be called the T-Discord virus. It uglifies everything it touches. I want no part of it." She shook her head, making a soft tsk-tsking noise. " Poor Alexander."
" Is that really him? " Alfred pressed, horrified.
Veronica's eyes lost their fire and returned to their usual violet. " Of course not. Even I cannot resurrect the dead." She pointed to Nosferatu, who rested obediently, waiting for her command, " What you see before you is a manifestation of your recollections of the creature. In other words, my magics created him based on your memories. Personally, I'd never seen the bloke myself--not that I regret it. But I'm getting off-track here. You two created this creature, and now you shall be punished by him." She turned back around, met her descendants' gazes. " Now that's what I call justice! "
For a moment she locked eyes with Alfred.
He turned his head, unable to take the strength of her steely gaze.
" What's the matter, Alfie? " She purred, " I thought you enjoyed a good torture. That's what it says in your notes."
Alfred hung his head low, having no witty reply. It was true. How many people had he tortured and brutally murdered over his lifetime? It had to be hundreds, possibly thousands. Sometimes he had done it out of vengeance, but more often than not it had been for pure and simple sadistic pleasure. Torturing people for his own personal amusement, inventing new and progressingly more painful ways to kill those who did not conform. It had been fun for awhile, but over the years it had gotten almost boring. Too predictable. The victims all spoke the same tired clichés every time, and their viscera all looked alike. The only thing that made it really fun was when Alexia was with him. God, he never got tired of watching her work!
A menacing roar pulled him from his thoughts. Nosferatu was thirsting for revenge.
Veronica regarded the abomination introspectively. There seemed to be something missing. " Hmm...just to make it interesting...." A twirl of her finger and the monster's tentacles sprouted dozens of six-inch razor blades arranged in sharp, serrated rows.
Alfred was aghast. " That's not fair! He didn't have those! "
Veronica's wicked smirk said it all. " Nope. That was my doing. And so is...this! " Her hand jerked forward, straight for Alfred's chest. A bright, neon-green mist seeped out of her fingers and drifted near his face. When he next drew breath, Alfred inhaled this vaporous mist.
Instantly, everything changed.
He was no longer in the castle. Gone were Veronica, Alexia, and Nosferatu. No chains bound him. He was in a dark, cluttered, miserable room packed tight with simple bunk-beds. There were others around. Talking. Crying. Begging to go home, to get back to their families. The air was thick with sadness and despair.
Now he was trying to cheer up a comrade, a fellow inmate marked for death. The man was as frightened as they came. He spoke with horror of the infirmary. Nobody who went there ever came back. An insane laughter was often heard over the screams of the damned. " I can't die here," He was saying, " I have to get home to my wife and kids. Have to tell someone the truth about this place, about what happens to people who work for him..."
Alfred tried to comfort him. Told him that it was all going to be okay; they were going to escape this hellhole and bring this facility down. It was all going to be alright....
Only, it wasn't.
Days slipped by and all he could do was watch helplessly as one by one his comrades were taken away to that place. Even the man he'd been trying to console. None of them ever returned.
Sometimes, peering out the bars to his cell, he thought he could just make out the rough, irregular shapes of black body bags being carried out. It was this last that frightened him the most, and each day he grew more jittery, more nervous.
There had to be an escape! He searched everywhere, but could not find one. This perpetual nightmare could only have one escape. He could not get free. Trapped! So scared, so miserable.
Now there were only five of them left. Five prisoners doomed to die. They talked about many things. Their joys, their sorrows. What they would do if some miracle occurred and they ever got free. They talked about their families and how much they wished they could make one simple phone call, even if only to say those three tiny words. They spoke of better times. Of love.
And of death. There was always death. It lurked beneath the beds, behind the shadows, underneath the floorboards; in the very air they breathed. The ever-present reaper, ready to claim it's spoils. The vulture of destruction.
It happened one gray and rainy afternoon. Alfred was laying on one of the vacant beds reading an old magazine--the facility never offered any current ones--when the three prison guards came in, as per usual. It was someone else's turn to take what he and the others had deemed 'the last walk.' Nothing new. He had grown used to them barging in every other day or so and calling out the number of the next unlucky winner.
Only this time, they called out a number which sent shivers through his spine. His number. Frantic, he dropped the magazine and tried to dodge under the bed, retrieve the fine-tipped pen he'd been saving as a weapon. It was laughable, he knew, but desperate men will do desperate things.
Futile.
Heavy hands clasped his shoulders and hauled him clear before he could reach it. They began to drag him--fighting and screaming--out of the cell, towards that Nazi hospital of death.
His remaining companions looked on; saddened, but too weak, scared, and disheartened to try and come to his aid. Not that it would have made a difference anyway. The soldiers carried guns, whereas the inmates wielded the mighty power of feather pillows.
Having failed to fight his way free, Alfred tried pleading, begging them to set him free. If they did, he swore, he would go far, far away and never say a word of this to anyone. They'd never hear from him again.
The Umbrella soldiers were largely unmoved. One of them gave him a sympathetic look--the same type of look a farmer might give a cow of which he was fond but knew had to be slaughtered--and that was the closest he came to swaying them.
They reached the infirmary, and, much to Alfred's surprise, went behind it, rather than inside. " You're lucky," one of the soldiers said, " You'll be getting the quick version, lots of people aren't as fortunate. Boss must be in a good mood today."
Somehow this knowledge did not make him feel any better.
They rounded a corner, where a sight straight out of a horror movie awaited. A gleaming guillotine sat to one corner, drenched in blood. There was blood everywhere: on the ground, on the walls; splashed over the wooden frame of the cruel device, and coloring the sharp edge of it's blade.
" No! Please, no! I'll do anything you say! Anything! Please, don't kill me! " Alfred begged, his eyes stinging with tears.
" I'm sorry." One of his captors--the one who had given him the sympathetic look earlier--announced without emotion, " Boss's orders. It's either you or us. Sorry, I wish that were different." He gestured to a bluish door just behind the guillotine, a door that bore the hated symbol. A moment later and this door swung open.
Out came a slender blonde man wearing a red uniform with gold trim and classy white dress pants. " Well well, look what the cat dragged in." An evil grin spread over the man's aristocratic features, and there was a moment of confusion.
Alfred Ashford?! It can't be, that's....me! These aren't my memories, they're...his.
Now Alfred understood what was happening. This was the past. And he was experiencing it through the eyes of a man he'd killed years ago back on Rockfort. In fact, he remembered standing where this Past Alfred stood now; recalled saying those exact same words.
It wasn't anything like watching it on TV. Every thought, action....every feeling this man was having, he was experiencing as if it were his own. It was like his soul was there, somehow fused to the victim's senses and mind. Seeing his past self brought the dawning realization that this was not him, but it felt so real. Like he was really that person. And it was very hard to distinguish which thoughts were his apart from this nameless victim.
No...not nameless. Daniel.
A wordless voice answering the unspoken question.
Alfred was thoroughly confused. It was almost as if the victim were answering, but that wasn't possible, was it?
" Please, Sir Alfred. Whatever I did wrong...I beg your forgiveness. Please, let me go and I'll pretend none of this ever happened. You'll never hear from me again, I swear to God." Alfred...no...Daniel, pleaded.
Past Alfred cackled heartlessly. It was not a pretty picture.
I sound like that?! No wonder people think I'm gay!
Of course, sexual orientation was the least of his worries at the moment.
Powerful waves of anguish and sorrow washed over him, and once again Alfred became Daniel.
" You're right about at least one thing," Past Alfred crowed, " I shall never hear from you again! Hahahah! Put him in."
" Nooooo!! " It was with some difficulty that the soldiers placed a struggling Daniel/Alfred into the confines of the guillotine. All he could do was scream as his neck was forced into the half-circle cut of the lower wood. Then the upper slab was snapped into place, locking his neck firmly in a small hole.
" Help! Someone help me! " He flailed and thrashed wildly--like a cat caught in a collar that was much too tight--testing the structure for a weakness. Sadly, there were none. The whole thing barely wiggled.
" No one's go-nna helll-p you! " Past Alfred sang out, his voice embarrassingly feminine.
Daniel looked up, and through his eyes Alfred could see the murderous, bloodthirsty glean in his own icy blues.
There was something very unsettling about that look--a total dearth of compassion and empathy.
I want out of here! This time the thought was as much Alfred's as it was Daniel's, for he knew all too well what was coming next.
Past Alfred pranced over and stood next to the trigger that would bring the lethal blade crashing down. There was a sadistic grin on his face. He was totally enjoying this. " Any last words before you loose your head? " He laughed at his own sick joke.
" Yes! " Daniel/Alfred spat, finally accepting that there was no hope, no salvation. " Go to Hell you dirty sonuva..." He never got to finish.
With a vicious sneer, Past Alfred let the blade fall.
At that very instant, a butcher knife of terrible, cutting pain sliced through Alfred's neck. It was the worst pain he'd felt in his entire life, including the Steve incident.
" Aaaaaaaiiiiiiieeee! " A chilling scream escaped his throat, and the image faded to black. When he opened his eyes...his own eyes...he was back in the castle with Alexia, Veronica, and Nosferatu.
Free! I wasn't really there, none of that was really happ...
Who are you kidding? The Voice cut in, stronger now than ever before, Of course that happened. You were there, remember? Remember how you enjoyed it?
Alfred whimpered like a kicked puppy. His neck felt...strange. It tingled from a wound never received. Yes but, why do I have to suffer? He deserved what he got!
How so? The Voice chided, What did he ever do to you? You didn't have to kill him, you know. You didn't have to kill all those people who worked on that secret bridge linking yours and Alexia's private residence, either. You're more of a monster than Nosferatu. You deserve every drop of pain Veronica can dish, and then some! " Veronica, what's....what did you do to me? " He asked softly, without looking up.
" Baby, it's called karma! " Veronica laughed, reminding him of himself when he was poking fun at people he was almost ready to kill. " Physical pain isn't the only kind, you know. And it's not always the worst. Too bad you two have a severe karmic debt. Had you been saints, you'd be having a much different experience right now. Anyway, I'll let the visions speak for themselves. As for the physical pain, I'll just say Daddy's not very happy with you." She wagged a finger mockingly, " You've both been very naughty children. It's time for some hickory tea! "
At his cue, Nosferatu moved in closer, tentacles whipping about in a frenzied passion. " Braaaaaaarrr!! " He bellowed, all the torment, rage, and frustration of his muddled mind wrapped up in that one monstrous roar.
Frantic, Alfred turned to Alexia to see how she was fairing.
Silent. There was no better word to describe her right then. She gazed on in cold silence, unfeeling. Unmoved. Indeed, it seemed as if nothing about this were even fazing her at all.
Alfred admired that. He certainly wasn't doing so well.
" Well, I'd love to stay, but I'm really busy." Veronica explained casually, spinning on her heel and marching towards the door. " Take care of 'em for me, will you Alexander? Buh-bye! " She spared a moment to turn and mock her descendants by blowing them a kiss. Then the door slammed, and she was gone.
That was all it took
With a savage roar of fury, Nosferatu charged. For being blindfolded he sure had an amazing sense of where his treacherous offspring were. He began beating them both mercilessly with those new-and-improved bladed tentacles.
Both twins cried out as long, gaping gashes were torn into their torsos: flesh and muscle stripped away with each strike.
Alexia, what do we do?!
I don't know! I don't know, okay! Alexia snapped, That bitch did something to my virus...I can't shift to any of my forms! And these restraints are ridiculously strong.
Then what do we do?! Alfred yelped, simultaneously crying out in pain as an angry tentacle lashed his face, cutting deep and drawing lots of blood.
Alexia whirled her head violently, locking eyes with her brother. " You don't get it, do you? " She said aloud, no longer taking the precaution of telepathy, " This is game over. There's nothing we can do. Our only chance is if one of the kids comes and helps us. If I concentrate, I may be able to send a message to Alexandra. She cannot yet communicate telepathically, but she has my virus and her and I share a psychic link."
" Do you think she can do it though? I mean, Nosferatu isn't exactly the Easter Bunny, and even Ash bailed on us. Could she fight Nosferatu if she had to? More importantly, is there any chance she could win? "
Alexia's expression was grim. It was easy to tell that she did not have faith in the matter, and that she was now reduced to scraping the bottom of the big Tub O' Ideas.
" I guess we're about to find out, aren't we? "
" What if she can't? "
" Well then, you'd better bring along your favorite pair of shorts and some sun-block. Say SPF Ten Billion. Because it's going to be awfully hot where we'll be going."
