This story has been such an adventure for me, and I hope it was for you guys, too. :)

Chapter Eighteen

The Gift of Love

She felt her patience wearing off, the longer time passed as she waited for the completed form of a man to burst alive. Her mind was too heavy to think, only focused on the being before her, impatiently longing for the re-agent to run its course; she still couldn't believe that all of this time she had seen it unfinished, and now it was complete.

He was…too amazing for words. So wondrous that it gave her a shiver of excitement that left her nervous at the same time. The face of Daniel Adams who had died tragically earlier that day – at her own accidental hands and the failed attempts of revival by none other than the brilliant Dr. Herbert West – was relaxed in a peaceful sleep instead of death, the same way Meg had always seen him whenever she would come into his room to give him his routine meds or simply sit and talk with him, her mind on the small if impossible hope that he would survive his upcoming death. But his condition had been too deteriorated in the late stages for that, and an additional result in the botched surgery. "He's already dead…" Oh, Herbert had been right as he always was, but Meg had wished otherwise then. Now a part of him would get another chance at life.

As for the rest of the body, it was as long as to cover the table from start to finish; she estimated he would stand at least seven feet tall, longer than the average human male. Sections of protective skin barely covered the muscles and tendons like the monster in Mary Shelley's tale, not turning out wholly angelic as you would see in your imagination only. Victor Frankenstein was so disappointed that he shunned his creation instead of loving it as he'd wanted to. This one, however, was more human than the fiend of the makings of a madman…a madman who had suffered loss, tragedy, and grief and as a result, died alone in the harsh winter. A price to pay for tampering with Mother Nature. This is exactly what you and your baby daddy have been doing all along, her inner self sneered, and she resentfully pushed her aside.

NO. No, this one will be nothing like the Monster of the story. This will be a man who will be loved, accepted, and treated like any human being on this earth.

Meg wouldn't even look down at her watch to see how much time had elapsed; it felt like an eternity had gone by. And in that time gone, still nothing. She could feel her knuckles shaking from strain, no need to look down and see the whitening and sweat coming to the surface.

And then, at long last, the miracle itself was granted.

The ashen face had been so peaceful in an eternal stupor, but now the eyes snapped open, and the mouth parted to release a strangled gasp, choking for precious air. The body began to convulse with each asphyxiation. Meg's heart leaped in her chest with joy and relief as she hurried over to the right side of the body, opening the gauze over the face and putting her hands on either side of it, leaning down and putting her mouth over his, feeling cold but smooth flesh now breathing hot against hers, trying to discharge oxygen into his struggling lungs. And after three, maybe four breaths… "Breathe," Meg begged after the final breath, the being's chest no longer needing her help. "Stay with me…yes…"

Meg found herself looking down at the handsome face, which bore all human emotions necessary, but most of all she could detect the ones that a person with amnesia would display upon awaking from either a comatose state or short-time unconsciousness: first wide-eyed confusion, then relief at seeing another face above even when the eyes didn't recognize the person…only she saw more than just that when those soft dark eyes held her own in place.

Tender affection.

Meg found herself smiling with pure pride and indescribable joy as she drank in the incredible sight. Herbert had done it; he did most of it, after all, but in the end, it had all been worth it. She helped him sit in an upright position, letting the gauze of his upper body fall away to rest around his waist and show off the upper half of his masculine build, taking in the blank but calculating face as he took in his surroundings. He managed to stand on both feet just right, but his legs wobbled and threatened to give way, but Meg quickly furthered herself to his side and helped him straighten. Good God, his seven feet DID dwarf her five-four, but it didn't scare her, for some reason. Nothing about him scared her. And he didn't even react violently as the others before him to date.

He was a magical being; he was perfect. Hands of a lawyer, strong and firm to carry out discipline, holding onto her shoulders for support and bearing the strength of a giant's hands…arms and legs of a bodybuilder, lengthening his height but sculpted to perfection, and would without a doubt deal with heavy items – and great for picking up a woman and carrying her…feet of a dancer, swift and agile in stride…torso and groin area of a young model, every girl's dream on a man's body…and the handsome face of pancreatic cancer-stricken, former brain surgeon Daniel Adams.

But most of all, within the chest, the newly beating heart of Daniel Cain, Meg's lost love, now come back to her.

"Where…am I?"

Meg blinked. Did…did he just talk? He spoke in the voice she had heard only the day before today, articulately so. She stood on her tiptoes and placed her hands upon the face lovingly. "You're home, with me. You're safe here. You're…alive." That last word felt so good to say. Just how long did she want to tell him that? Thank you, Herbert, she thought, dropping back down onto her heels and wrapping her arms around his waist, worshipping him like he was a god and she the loyal priestess asking for his blessing and giving him a gift. And she had not too long ago given him the gift of life. She could feel the little life inside her own body stirring in time with the butterflies that she had not felt in a long time.

Meg looked back up at his face when he responded. "Aliiiive…" It was ironic how it bore so much resemblance to the black-and-white picture after the Monster was brought into the world, however, he had been rejected by his creator and the villagers. And then HE looked back down at her after gazing up at the ceiling as though telling God above that he was a success at the hands of two mortal humans. "Who am I?"

She realized then that he had yet to be named. No trouble there, because she knew just what to call him. "Your name is…Dan. I'll call you Dan." She allowed his strong arms to lift her and spin her around in the air before pulling her close to him. It amazed her how he had only been brought to life less than ten minutes ago and was already getting energized and ready to walk out of this room. Herbert HAD to see what all of the hard work had done and paid off.

~o~

They were coming…Chapham and the escaped Sefton re-animated were coming HERE. Herbert refused to call himself afraid, but it did indeed drive him to the point of defense and desperation. He would defend himself, his hard work – including the re-agent and the new life he had yet to see spring to life – and the people in this house. Meg had to still be downstairs with their man, and it ignited his jealousy fire indescribably. But that would have to be fixed once they got rid of their enemy and his fellow freaks. Herbert was armed and dangerous, and the thought now crossed his mind that his creation could find it in him to be used as a weapon in battle. With his beastly strength, he could very much tear apart a single one at a time. It excited Herbert that perhaps the need for superhuman soldiers would be tolerated more than current ones who were taken from their families in battle, whereas these "new men" would not be capable of passing down children via reproduction. Or perhaps I'm wrong. Theories mean nothing unless you prove them.

He kept extra armory in the supply closet under the staircase, locked away in a suitcase laying "innocently" on the floor, underneath the coat rack. He handed Francesca a .45 and loaded. "Just how exactly are we going to fight these guys off?" she asked. "I saw what they did to everyone at the hospital…"

"I've fought them before," Herbert interrupted, checking his revolver one last time and clicking it. "Months ago on that night Dean Halsey died...and Dr. Hill. And Dan Cain."

"Herbert."

At the sound of his name, he whipped his head around to find the source of the voice: Meg stood there, in the middle of the English rose-carpeted floor before one of the great stained glass windows…and she was not alone, either.

Herbert felt as though his heart had stopped beating for a few seconds, then pumped back to life and began to race at a rapid pace full of never-ending excitement, breathless joy, and overwhelming pride. Meg's tiny figure and stature were dwarfed by the seven-foot-tall, living, and breathing work of art whose hand she held and remained close by like a protective lover. Dark hair was naturally all over the place, handsome features set in a blank but apprehensive expression, the upper half of the strong, muscular body bare whilst the lower half was covered by what remained of the sheer gauze for a near-Greek fashion, standing on two long, sculpted legs that supported him with impressive strength despite having only awoken a short time ago. Stepping away from Francesca behind him, Herbert put his gun to his belt and marched towards Meg and their newly awoken creation, which was no doubt named "Dan".

He was MAGNIFICENT. Herbert took the hand that Meg had held and offered to him, examining this fine being which was both beautiful and hideous at the same time. He would have been all the way perfect if it weren't for the exposed muscle sections and metal braces holding certain parts together, but that was perfectly alright. Nobody was completely perfect. He had done it…no, he and Meg had done it. They had created a man who was far superior to David, the Mona Lisa, or any other timeless figure in ancient history. "I made you."

The sooner he spoke that, ignoring the woman behind him who was watching in confusion, Dan stepped away from him, his eyes full of distrust; it amazed him to know that even though he might not be near as intelligent quite yet, he was slowly coming to understand certain human behavior, such as who was dangerous and who was friendly. However, Herbert could see that this man made from parts of men who lost their will to live didn't see him as his savior, his Maker. His creator. His Master.

He was looking at Meg, and it dawned on Herbert that because it was MEG who had been present at Dan's awakening and not he, Herbert West, Re-Animator and the main ringleader, Dan did not see him believe him that it was he who brought him into this world. And for that, it was going to be difficult to get them both on the same page.

Most of all, Herbert did not like the way Dan looked down at the woman he loved and held her the way he did.

Francesca's voice interrupted the moment. "Megan, West! They're coming!"

The smashing of glass sprang his senses into action. Perfect timing, Herbert thought sarcastically, drawing his revolver once more and pushing the safety off. "Meg, get him out of here!" he shouted. "Francesca, go with them!" He didn't need to see Meg lead their man away by the hand into the direction of the stairs down to where the lab was, the maybe-friend herself following after. This was a home invasion by an army of freaks, yet Herbert had to protect himself, his work, and the people in this house. He never backed down without a fight.

"Freeze! Police!" He growled and spun around, aiming his gun and firing without hesitation at the nosy, rogue wife-beater himself straight into the forearm – where he had chopped off the lower half of the limb the night before. Chapham stumbled backward, groaning in pain and hitting his back against the wall. Not too long after, Francesca's screaming was heard, along with a thud, followed by Meg's screams and the thunderous, defensive growls of Dan. Herbert raised his revolver as he dashed down the stairs to save his friends…

…in time to come face to face with the very tall figure of the man whom he hated to this day with loathsome passion. Dr. Carl Hill let out a maniacal laugh that could very well match that of the most sinister of demons in Scripture; well, Herbert did not believe in any of that, but it was the best he could come up with. He didn't stop and retreat fast enough to avoid Hill grabbing his armed wrist – he now had hands – and throwing him against the wall enough to daze him and leave him defenseless. His back and the back of his head numbed from the impact and flared in mild pain, fading away quickly. He barely had enough time to gather himself when a single, large hand grabbed him by his collar shirt and yank him up, holding him close to a fairly bloated body, and the voice of Chapham filled his ear: "You're under arrest, you little squirt!"

Herbert was held where he was as he was forced to watch the woman he loved and their potential allies being held in place – well, more like Francesca being held and screaming for help by an African American zombie with dried vomit down the front of his body and Elizabeth Chapham, her elderly, wrinkled features twisted in a feral smile that revolved into a nasty leer and cackle like the Wicked Witch. The body of a skinny, malnourished wizard-like man lay on the floor, neck apparently broken by his creation, who stood far away with his arms protectively around Meg as he menaced the "bad guys" around them with an animalistic desire to murder them all. Dan would have had his chance if Meg hadn't begged him to stop for the sake of their friends – and if only Hill hadn't barked orders for his minions to hold their posts with the hostages, and turned to face Herbert, his face split into a manic smile.

"West, you seem delighted to see me."

He had a WHOLE BODY. Herbert wondered how, so he burst out, "How did you come back, Dr. Hill? We saw Halsey smash your head and toss the remnants out of the morgue. And how did you get a new body?"

"That mental midget Graves helped me," Hill answered smoothly, casually. "He provided me a new life with what was left of my serum –"

"MY serum," Herbert corrected, grunting as Chapham tightened his hold with his single remaining arm. "You stole the life's work of someone else to satiate your pretensions of grandeur like you did Gruber and others before him. And then you placed your filthy tongue on a helpless female who held no desire for you to begin with." He looked past his former professor's shoulder to see her looking at him with a silent expression of small gratitude that did little to hide her obvious fear.

Hill hissed at him. "Consider us even since you took what was mine. And you know exactly who I mean." He turned his head from Herbert behind him to where Meg was with the man who bore the heart of another man who had meant dearly to the both of them, but whom Hill had wanted to disappear so he could have Meg. "You could take my body, West, but you cannot take HER from me."

"Your show in the morgue took the man I loved from me that night," Meg spat, wrenching herself from Dan's hold, ignoring his disbelief and glaring up at the man she hated as much as Herbert. "I'm not yours, Hill, and I never will be."

Her defiance near-aroused Herbert, but it sickened him to know it did Hill the same. He gave a rasp of a laugh. "Your spirit, my dearest Meg, has always ignited a fire in me." He looked her up and down, his head slightly moving up and down being the only sign for Herbert as he couldn't see facial reactions. "You're beautiful as I remember you, but it seems things do ripen with age, after all. But I did not come all this way just for chit-chat." He reached into the pocket of his jacket. "I have unfinished business that involves just the two of us, and you later," he added, turning back around to look at Herbert.

"What do you want from me?" Meg demanded, her hands lowered to her sides, balled into fists.

Herbert felt his blood boil when he saw the once-headless Hill withdraw his hand from his pocket, even more, when he saw what it was as he held it up in front of Meg: a ring. "For you to come away with me, Meg…and become my bride."

Herbert was more than ready to muster what vicious, animalistic strength he had left inside him to tear off Chapham's remaining arm and save his Meg. MARRY him? Never! I would sooner give myself a full dose of re-agent than let this happen! Dan gave Hill the look of the black mamba ready to strike out and bite its prey, inject its irreparable venom into the blood system, snarling as he took a step forward and pulling Meg closer to him in order to prevent the evil man from taking her from him. But Meg put her hand flat against his chest and pushed gently.

"Please don't do this," she begged gently.

"That's right, listen to the lady," Hill agreed insolently. "She comes with me if she values the lives of these two." Once more, perhaps for the last time, he turned his head around and gave Herbert a venomous glare, lip curling. "As long as they do try not to follow us, or I will do worse than this."

Meg looked like she was going to cry, not wanting to do this but also knew she had to, for their sake. Herbert felt his heart break when her pretty blues met his. She feared for his life, for Francesca, and her own body. "Dan," she said slowly to their man, getting the pitiful look of a puppy dog begging his owner to not leave him, "I have to do this. Let me go, please."

"Dan?" Hill's head swiveled back and forth between them, confusion lacing his accented voice. "Dan, as in…?"

"As in the Dan your FREAKS took away from me," Meg spat, freeing herself from the strong arms of a god. "He's here, alive and stronger than ever."

Herbert was expecting the plagiarist to try an attempt to tell her that Dan had died a year ago that same night as her father, but nothing came. Instead, all she got was a sarcastic laugh, and Hill reached and took her left wrist into his grasp. She squirmed and tried to pull back, but Hill tightened his hold enough to leave a bruise as he forced the ring on the third finger of her left hand. "I'll deal with him another time. For now, you're coming with me, to where it is just the two of us." He whirled around to face his minions. "Release them at once."

Herbert felt the whole front of his body make a heavy but less painful impact on the wooden floor, and heard, rather than saw, Francesca join; looking up, he saw his creation attempt to get aggressive as the monster began to lead Meg away from him, ceasing only when she tenderly held her hand up for him to stop. She only looked back to Herbert one last time – no, it won't be the last time, he reminded himself. We're getting her back.

Just then, Hill paused halfway out the back door to give a pure sinister smile. "Just to ensure they don't follow us…stand by and restrain them all."

The three were on them again while their leader went out the door with a screaming Meg now thrown over his shoulder, but first, they went after Dan, who roared in defense and swung a ferocious blow of a punch to the African, who went down in a haste. The Chaphams stood back in shock as their fellow re-animated went down like the last, only he would suffer more than just a mere fistful. Dan roared again and picked him up, this time tossing him over his shoulder and into the wall. Herbert remained where he was, knowing that the man had the situation under control. Francesca had backed away and against the wall, horrified and unsure what to do and at the mercy of the Chaphams – Elizabeth had it in her to fight her husband to get to the prize first by grabbing him by the jacket collar and whirling around, smashing him into the wall while growling fiercely. It was amusing that in another life she couldn't fight him herself, now in this one, she had the strength to try and kill him herself. Herbert took this as their chance to get away from them and get to Meg before Hill took her any further than he had, wherever he was now. These two would catch up, eventually.

"Come on!" he shouted, bolting up without any more hesitation, recovering his weapon. "Dan, let's go save Meg!" His creation dropped the once-more-dead being and looked down at him with an expression of utter disgust mingled with bafflement. "Save...Meg," Herbert repeated slowly as if he were talking to a small child. Dan's eyes blinked once, twice, then widened and shone with recognition.

"Meg..."

"Yes!" Herbert exclaimed proudly, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him forward. "We must save her. You get her while I distract Hill." They were out the door, Francesca in tow.

Hill and the woman he loved were nowhere in sight once all three of them were outdoors and running through the cemetery. "MEG!" Herbert shouted, mustering the strength his legs could give him, slowing down only to let his creation catch up with him. "Hill, you bastard, I'll find you if it's the last thing I'll do!"

He couldn't have taken her that far. There aren't very many places he could take her...except perhaps his old residence. But that is just outside town, in the woods. "I believe he's taking her to his former residence," he said as they hopped into Francesca's convertible with the hood down, seeing as the seven-foot-tall "man" wouldn't fit all the way and would have had to lean forward and suffer stiff muscles on his first night alive.

"I read about Dr. Carl Hill," Francesca said as she revved the engine. "That's on the edge of town...but how could he have gotten here on foot?" she asked in disbelief. "And it will take us a damn good while to get there!" She fixed her eyes on him, blazing. "But I wanna also know more about this crazy shit that you're into, Dr. West."

His temper snapped by a thread. "Explanations are best kept for later," Herbert snapped, glaring at her and looking back up to Dan, who was returning his gaze with a blank expression, those eyes silently wondering what they were discussing. "For now we must make plans to get Meg out of there."

~o~

The ring looked like it came from the Victorian era, for it was gold flourishing a marquise-shaped garnet accented by little seed pearls. It was meant to mesmerize, but for Meg, it made her vomit to her core. This was given to her by the man whose face she never wanted to see again, and yet here he was, tall as she remembered despite his new body from poor Dr. Graves, left to go mad and no one believing his story.

"What did you do to him? To Graves," she demanded, sitting rigid with a racing heart in the passenger seat right next to the man who was driving, really good despite the fact that he was half-dead and only had gotten himself a new body days before. This run-down piece of trash they were now in, that he had brought himself and his followers into her and Herbert's home – she prayed that he and the others would survive, yet also knew they would with Dan with them – wasn't even his, so it had to also be –

"All a matter of the old-fashioned manner of 'promising' him anything he wanted if only he did one thing I asked of him," Hill answered, smiling as he kept his eyes on the road. "Of course..." His voice dropped to that of a venomous hiss. "...what he wanted was you."

Meg flinched. Should have seen THAT coming. When were older men going to stop lusting after her for their selfish desires? "I couldn't grant him what was mine. So I had the idiot locked away in his classroom while I kept busy until the time came." He turned to her then, that same burning gaze that made her shrink back in her seat in place. The same look he gave her when his disembodied head was held over her by the hands of his own body. "Now we can have some alone time together, with no interruptions from West."

"You won't kill him," she spat, gathering up her defenses. "Not when he has Dan with him."

Hill growled and forced the vehicle to an alarming speed that made her heart race. They were heading to the middle of nowhere, which could only mean that they were heading someplace where it would ensure Herbert and the others would never find her in time. Meg was in far more trouble than she was in the morgue. To know that Carl Hill wanted her as his wife was more than she could bear. The bile in her stomach rose higher with the tension of the silence that passed between them until Hill broke it and brought the car to a halt.

"We're here, my dear."

With the round tower and expansive porch, the place certainly looked Victorian. She recalled Dr. Hill once mentioning to her father about an old property outside town, in the woods, left to him after his father passed on. As far as Meg knew, since his death, the place was never bought in so many months. Hill acted like a gentleman and got out of the car first, coming around to open the door for her and offering his hand to her. "We had everything ready for your arrival. We mustn't keep everyone waiting now."

Meg scowled up at him as she unfastened her seat belt and refused his hand, simply standing and sticking her chin out defiantly. "Don't you mean, keep YOU waiting?"

He just laughed and shook his head. "Such defiance, much like West in making me look like a fool –" He leaned in and snarled. "– in my lectures." He grasped her arm forcefully and led her in the direction of the house. "The area is secure, so we won't have you escaping me tonight. How will you get away since we are so far from your lover and the authorities? And will they believe you if you tell them I was the one who did this?"

Meg found herself surrounded by the familiar Victorian architecture of warm wooden panels and a curved staircase, the floor covered with a Persian carpet and soft, ivory light filling the spaces. "They believed us when they found your fingerprints on that file you kept of me." Keep calm, girl. You'll get out of this. Just go along with it, as Herbert said. "They'll probably have it in them to come out here after so many failed options..."

She felt as if the force had been knocked out of her when she felt lips crashing down onto hers, bruising her mouth and attacking her at once. Meg tried to scream and fight him off. Hill tasted sick; he tasted like death itself, cold and unfeeling, ill-mannered. Herbert's were warm, sweet, and inviting despite the cold shell his arrogant and sometimes unfeeling nature made him out to be; it ought to be HIM kissing her...no, it should be DAN, who was back in her life, filling the void that his absence had left in her for so long...she couldn't think straight at the present time, only attempt to wrestle out of the stone-strong grip of the man holding her in place as he ravished her mouth to silence her defiance.

"That ought to do it. You taste as I imagined your lips would, Meg," Hill purred, his hands holding hers, gently caressing the backs with his thumbs, the shocks tingling like the feeling horror stories would leave on the reader. "Take the bride upstairs to her room. We can't delay this anymore." Meg frowned, turned around, and gasped in horror at the THING that grabbed both her wrists once Hill released them. It couldn't have been by his own hand – or could it? – because it was an assembly of various body parts, a version of the phrase "two sides of the same coin", one side being that of a man's face and frontal body, stitched grotesquely with the side of a woman who let out a noise similar to the cry of the pterodactyl or some other extinct flying dinosaur. It dragged her in a near-spinning motion for the stairs that made her dizzy by the time she reached the bottom, freeing herself as she ran up the stairs to get away from it once it let her go. Perhaps I can try to find SOME way out of here, find a weapon and defend myself – Sadly her prayers weren't answered as she found herself cornered at the top of the stairs by yet another vile re-animated being, this one a woman with a half-burned face, black and red, as well as the left arm to the point of bone revealing beneath charred flesh, grasping her forearm and dragging her down the hallway until they reached the second door to the left.

He must have his personal lobotomy kit, Meg's inner self suggested. Can't get any more corpse thugs without a backup. Her "escort" released her, motioning with a simple lift of the hand for her to open the door herself and peek into her "new quarters".

She found herself in extravagant if not overwhelming surroundings like she was in Louis VXI's time. Everything from the bed to the wardrobe beside it, the three-mirrored dresser, the bedside table, and the few chairs about were rich mahogany carved with ornaments that looked like gold when it actually wasn't. The bedcovers, chair cushions, and pillows were also gold, the fabric being brocade with mild velvet accents. The whole room was lit overhead with an antique chandelier decked with crystals and pearls; Hill was trying to treat her like a princess first instead of "going for the prize" first. She snorted. Should have thought of that sooner that time in the morgue, you sick son of a bitch.

Then she found herself pushed into the area; turning around, she saw the freak himself/herself leering at her, spinning around to show both sides of that same expression that told her she couldn't keep the "groom" waiting. "Get your hand off me, reject!" she snapped, swiping at the thing so that she sent the thing spinning around, arms flailing about in a desperate motion so that it was out the door, giving her time to slam and lock the door to keep it outside. Whirling around, Meg's eyes landed on the window, and realized she could get out that way. Running over, she tried to throw the locks open and push it upwards...only to find that it wouldn't budge. "Damn it," she hissed. Hill did a great job making sure I won't escape, she thought sarcastically. I guess I'll have to do my..."job" of distraction, as Mama used to teach me. Also, before Marianne died, she used to teach her daughter about distracting men.

"Men want one thing and one thing only, but not all of them rely only on sexual appetite," she once said. "The ones you dislike the most, you have to play the cards with what they need most to get what YOU want from them, but also make sure they don't all the way get their part."

Hill had me screaming like a defenseless little girl, but now it's MY turn to have HIM screaming. She didn't know what to do exactly, and she didn't like it. She didn't know how long she would have to keep up with the charade.

Meg bit back a moan of distaste when she saw the wedding dress and veil laying innocently over the foot of the bed; everything about them was innocent except for the occasion they would be used for wear. The dress was ivory lace, classy, elegant, vintage, and...sexy at the same time. It had a plunging V-neck that would leave little of her curves to the imagination, a sheer back that buttoned all the way from the end of her back to the top, and a mermaid court train. The veil itself was the traditional cathedral length, edged with a lace that matched the one on the dress. There was no way she could get that on by herself; she could get into the dress, but she would need help with the back and the veil itself. Looking back at the door she had locked, Meg knew she didn't have much of a choice but to call back the monster she'd shoved out.

She took her time slipping out of her regular clothes and folding them neatly and hanging them over the changing screen she was behind...and dropped her jaw as soon as her gaze settled on the most scandalous-looking thing she had ever seen in her life. Still standing naked, clad in only her underwear, Meg took in the black piece that resembled almost a maid's garb, without any traces of white. The bra was underlined and set with light pink, a little bow between the valley of the bust, connected with a dotted mesh fabric to the apron-like lower half, complete with a matching thong. What better way for this to be left for her until what was known as the...wedding night. Swallowing back the retching thoughts, Meg hurried out from behind the screen, not wanting to look at that thing anymore, and slipped into the dress itself. It was soft like grass, itching her skin but also caressing it lovingly. Taking a look at herself in the mirror of thewardrobe, she feared her breasts falling out to the man's eyes somehow. Other than that, it hugged her body in the right places, but wished it was Herbert to see her – no, DAN – in this, and take her to bed then and there.

The half-man, half-woman creature was waiting for her patiently outside. It surprised her, but perhaps while she was changing, it had somehow gone to Hill and managed to give way as to what occurred, and he'd ordered it to wait for her. Not that it really mattered. It grinned and shoved its way in as soon as she stepped aside and sat down on the plush golden cushion before the three-mirrored dresser. Meg bit her lip and held it that way while her "maid" ran a brush through her hair and smoothed it evenly before resetting it in the same updo. How amazing that it groomed her so well despite its uncontrollable temperament she knew existed. Once that was done, the veil was clipped into the crown of her head, behind her bangs for an almost young girl's appeal.

Her eyes fell on the box in front of her. No mistaking it for a jewelry box, for it was bronze; carved into it was the figure of Christ, and around the sides were his loyal followers. To her it was a mocking to God and all beliefs – and inside was a splendid collection of jewels: a classic pearl necklace of lustrous shine; one set was a spectacular knockout of brilliant round diamonds surrounded by at least thirty diamonds in fine silver yet again; the third could be no ordinary opal with its rainbow face surrounded by fiery baguette diamonds; the explosion of garnets in the fourth set bore breathtaking fruits, only if she were someone else that would have accepted Hill's advances. And last of all, this final set was a spectacular resemblance to what Queen Elizabeth II received on her wedding day, with its deep blue oval sapphires surrounded by scientifically crafted diamonds.

All in all, Hill was trying to treat her like a queen. Woo her with this room, these jewels, and the arrangement of those red, white, and green flowers in the black-white-and-gold vase from another time...none of it was working. Meg felt like she wanted to release the contents of her stomach here on the spot. But she had to go through with this. Accompanied by her "maid", she stepped out of the room and went out to meet the man she wanted dead for the second and final time downstairs.

~o~

The car was parked a couple of yards from the house, an old Victorian number that looked nothing compared to his and Meg's home. Herbert checked his pistol one last time then put it back to his belt. Beside him, Dan was looking down at him and his equipped belt, reaching down with one hand to try to grab one and examine it, but Herbert stopped him. He still had more to learn, so now was not the time to be sorry. "No," he said firmly. Dan gave him a little pout that Meg would have found adorable if she were here.

Francesca's voice snapped him to attention. "Meg is in THAT PLACE?" She shuddered. "I hope to God he hasn't already done anything to her." So do I, Herbert thought, feeling his heart tear by a small fraction. If he's done something to her, I won't hesitate to kill him again. "So I wait here while you guys go get her?"

"That's the idea." Herbert unbuckled and jumped out of the back, leading his creation out of the vehicle with him. "You stay here and keep guard. You know what to do if anything comes."

Francesca raised a brow. "Anything like what?"

"Anything that doesn't belong." I have no doubt Hill will have the place on the lookout if he ever finds us here. He won't want anything interrupted like last time. He suspected that Hill had been watching him and Meg for a while enough to explore their home and eventually find the secret way in and out of the Averill's crypt adjacent to the lab – and found where he'd stored the freak creations he did only in his spare time when Dan had been put on hold unintentionally, for him. He ought to be prepared to run into any "guards" of the sort.

Carl Hill's old Victorian property was a bit of a drive if nothing compared to thirty to forty minutes, given Arkham wasn't much of a large town. Still, it was rural and isolated from the prying eyes of humanity, where he would have the area crawling with mismatched freaks. His fault...his entire fault, now that he was admitting it. Weapon loaded and ready to fire any target, Herbert scaled across the acre of land with his creation behind him, keeping low and in the shadows. They welcomed the two of them like the creatures of darkness that they were – Master and disciple, who yet had to accept him, but Herbert doubted he would with his...attachment to Meg – and guided them to the side of the house –

– only to find two of the grotesquely fused rejects on either side of the front door, like two watchdogs at attention. Watchdog, appropriate, Herbert thought with a small smile, finger on the trigger. The window curtains were drawn back to show all activity, for Hill had thought no one would be watching what would occur inside his own house. For that, Herbert was grateful to get the opportunity to peek in and see what was happening at the present...but while he was relieved to see who he was looking for, he also wished that he hadn't.

There was HIS Meg walking down the stairs in slow, hesitant baby steps, accompanied by the man-woman mutant-like combination of bridesmaid-groomsman. His breath caught in his throat. She was breathtaking, beautiful, not enough words. But the fact that HILL picked out that dress with the low neck and everything made Herbert's blood boil. He longed to tear that wretched thing off of her and reclaim her right now. But the two snakes at the front door had to be dealt with, and who knew where the others could be. Well, he would give them something to think about.

"Meg..." Dan spoke in a low growl that happened to be too loud to keep quiet. Of course, how could he understand as of now, on a dangerous rescue mission? The sound of his voice attracted the attention of the "snakes" – one with two female heads on either end, attached to a rib cage and on all fours, the other with a man's head with animal-like limbs and a woman's breast serving as his shoulder – and forced Herbert to leave his hiding place with Dan behind him, equally prepared to kill some pests and rescue the woman they both loved. Who was on the other side of the exterior wall and at the marital mercy of the man they both loathed passionately.

Classic case of the damsel-in-distress captured by the enemy and forced to marry him. :D I don't care if anyone calls that "old news"; I believe it makes the conflict between Meg and Hill tastier. And Herbert and Dan to the rescue! This is going to be one hell of a climax.