CHAPTER 45
Searing pain sizzled through her body as she stumbled into a counter.
Blood. There was blood everywhere. She couldn't feel anything but the blade. The sharp, stinging blade. Strangled, blood-chocked gasps came from Alice as she slowly turned around to look at Lutz.
Rage bubbled in her as her eyes landed on his smug face.
She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. And yet, Alice found that for some reason, she wasn't all that terrified about it. Dying. Strangely, she felt less angry about it than accepting. No, accepting wasn't the word. She would never accept her own death. But she did come to the realization of it. Realization. It wasn't something too far off, now was it? But she knew that she was going to die, just not yet. She still had a job to do. A mission to complete before she left the world and she'd be damned if she couldn't finish what the bastard in front of her started.
"Not so fast, blondie." Alice hissed, ready to swing a fist.
Suddenly, she saw everything. The stars and how they had been mashed together to create such a twisted world; the creation of deities from every culture; mythological beast that were thousands of years old; from the first human to the last, and nebulas and baby galaxies. A vast array of colors and colors that weren't-exactly-colors went by her mind. There was a heat growing. She could feel her body warming up quickly, but in a harsh, painful way. It throbbed in her chest, and then in her whole upper body, then lower. And before she knew it, her whole body was throbbing and thrashing inside, like something was dying to get out. Like something inside her was seeking release. She was even faintly aware of the fact that her hand may or may not have been glowing.
And then there was fire.
The flames lashed out from her body, and surrounded the kitchen in blazing tongues. Alice felt no pain. Lutz screamed a blood churning scream, but she heard nothing. The pain still throbbed in her body, but it was numbed. She was at peace. She was dying. Finally, this was it. She was dying after finally getting revenge on a serial killer in a flaming bakery.
Not bad for a Kirkland, Alice thought softly, probably the first of its kind, actually.
Everything went dark, but music could be heard.
Memories like voices that call on the wind
Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns
Whispered and tossed on the tide coming in
Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
She'd never heard the voice before, but it instantly put her at ease for some odd reason. She did however, remember the sound of that violin in the background. Alice knew who was singing, now. She could imagine it. A dark-blonde woman, with long and curly hair and bright green eyes like hers. The woman was smiling down on her five children: A boy with fiery red hair, a younger boy with fluffy auburn hair, and two ginger twins. And a little baby with curly blonde hair in her arms. Her father sat in the corner, all big and strong and powerful, like a bear, really. His meaty, pale hands gracefully guiding the bow along the silver strings. His bright smile filled the room with happiness.
Voices like songs that are heard in the dawn
Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns
Singing the secrets of children unborn
Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
Faces played back in her memory. Alfred, with his bright eyes and hair, ready to serve the world a buffet of justice and freedom. She wondered what he would do when he found her body. How he would live if she was gone. Happily, with Ivan, she supposed. Would he remember her? Alice was so, so proud of him, though she never really made it known. She really was such an idiot. Alice was surprised at how fast he had grown while she was gone. When they were kids, the brats at school would always kick and punch him when she wasn't there. It was almost humorous watching them scurry away when she found out about they did to her little brother. She'd miss Alfred.
Dreams like the memories once born on the wind
Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns
Lovers and children and copper and tin
Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
Her mind changed to the life that she could have had. To an alternate universe. She was happy, she noticed. The other Alice lived in a grand house with chandeliers and a giant garden in Australia. She was married to the conductor and they'd adopted a little boy. He was a rascal, a lot like Alfred actually. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes. They'd named him James. He learned music, like his mother and father, but eventually decided to explore the world for science. He always did like wild animals. It'd been hard for his overprotective parents to accept, but they eventually gave their consent because James was happy. The other Alice and her husband lived to see their first grandchild before finally passing away.
Dreams like the castles that sleep in the sand
Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns
Slip through the fingers or held in the hand
Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
Francis and Matthew. She could see them, posing as though they were about to have their picture taken. Francis, dressed in silks and velvets that he probably used to wear when he was still the Heir to the Bonnefoy Wine Company, held his son. The Frenchman's rich, indigo eyes glittered with happiness as he gazed down at his small son. Matthew looked peaceful, violet eyes shut and peacefully cuddling up to his father with a white polar bear in hand. They were both so sweet and kind. If she was ever made into a ghost or guardian angel or whatever was in nowadays, Alice would be damned if she let anyone hurt them. She hoped Francis would find someone to settle down and marry. It hurt her so damn much to think of him even smiling at another woman, or man, it was all the same to the French. She knew she couldn't be selfish. Wouldn't. It wasn't like it was any of her business, anyway. She was just his boss and he was just her assistant. That was the way it had always been between them and that was the way it would end. But…
But what if it had been something had been different?
What if they had changed something? One little glance, one little kiss. A simple little kiss and the whole arrangement of the universes could be dramatically changed. It was quite sad, really, her love life. She was a Kirkland, and they didn't give out their hearts to anyone. You had to fight tooth and nail and a few ribs before a Kirkland might even glance at you in that way. And they never truly got back their hearts after. A little piece of Kirkland would always stay with you, if they fell in love with you. You were more than a part of a memory to them, at that point. Even if you did the most god awful things, somewhere, no matter how small, there would be a piece of you in a Kirkland that would never ever leave. She'd only really been in love twice. Alice supposed though, that it was better to have felt that feeling one last time, than to never experience it ever again.
Songs like the dreams that the bow maiden spins
Medhel an gwyns, Medhel an gwyns
Weaving the song of the cry of the tin Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
Medhel oh Medhel an gwyns
"Alice." Her father's rich voice called out.
The music had stopped and the scenery was turning white. In front of her was a door. A pure white door, with a pale, warm glow leaking from the cracks. Alice was standing on a marble white bridge. She looked down. Blue wispy figures coursed through the river below her, an occasional wail. She looked back up at the man standing by the door. He was beaming at her, a familiar and bright smile plastered permanently on his jolly red face. He had the same unmanageable mob of red curls piled on his head. Behind him were four people. Isabelle, Olivia, Vanessa, and Vash. They smiled softly, nodding in thanks.
She reached out, and took his hand.