Alcina hung up the phone after her conversation with Karl and blunted her cigarette in the ashtray. Of course, the notion that she would leave her daughters there alone to deal with the child's father was absurd. But her guilt wouldn't allow her to tell Karl that, given his...particular sensitivities to the subject of her daughters. Not that she could fault him for it. She stared at herself in the mirror of the makeup table. The optics of the situation were not favorable, and she was not blameless. Her eyes trailed to the wall by the mirror where a headless crow hung, pinned to the wall with a dagger. The blood gave its black feathers a beautiful sheen.
She would dispose of the man in the basement, he had already served his purpose. Then, she would wait for Ethan. Once the threat was dispatched, she was free to travel to the factory to find out exactly what Heisenberg was plotting. He was a smart boy, she trusted that whatever it was he was planning had a significant amount of thought behind it. She also had not shared with him the extent of what she learned from Miranda's little captive, as she was sure Karl was not sharing all with her. She poured herself a drink, and considered that within mere hours, she would be faced with the past and future at once.
But before that, she knew, she should gather the part of the child she had hidden away. She wanted to keep it close, knowing Ethan was on his way to collect it. She slipped off her hat first, then her dress. She wanted to change into more appropriate attire. Something that matched her mood, that wouldn't show all the blood she intended to spill. Something...black.
Once dressed, she made her way down the stairs, heading toward the sanctuary. As she descended to the main hall, she heard the quiet voices of Bela, Cassandra and Daniela. They were chattering and whispering to each other as if sharing a terrible secret, huddled together on the only piece of furniture that wasn't destroyed by unfortunate incident with the chandelier. It irritated her still; it had been an unbelievable pain to clean up the mess. They stood to greet her.
"Where are you going, Mother?" asked Bela.
"To retrieve the flask from the sanctuary. When I return, we will meet here. I'll need your help in the basement. We have some trash to dispose of." Alcina pulled on her gloves. "It also seems we will be receiving a visitor, and I'd like to make sure he has a proper welcome."
"A visitor?"
"Yes, nothing we can't handle. If he should arrive before I return, keep yourselves out of sight. I know how...enthusiastic you girls can get. But this time I need you to be patient."
They cast curious looks to each other but answered immediately in unison. "Yes, Mother."
"Very good then."
Through the hall and into the evening she walked, barely registering the feeling of cold on her skin. How distasteful that this was all that trapped her daughters in the house. What prevented her from taking them away from here. Her black dress brushed against the thin blanket of frost and snow layering the stone, leaving a wide trail in her wake.
xx
Alcina would have laughed if she wasn't so disappointed in herself. She stared at the empty pedestal, where she had kept the crystalized part of the child mother had given her. Only inches away on the damp, dirty stone floor, was the clipped off portion of a cigar.
What a child.
Her walk back was swift. If Karl already had her flask, at least she could guarantee it didn't get back into the hands of Ethan. She would make sure Miranda never saw her dreams made real...not after she had destroyed theirs.
Now, all she had left was to dispose of Chris. If mother wanted him alive, then no good would come of allowing it to be so. It was no use trying to unravel Miranda's plan. She had lived long enough to know there was no end to her treachery. One could strip layer after layer, remove the flesh and tendon and organs and not a single pure intention would be found.
Back in the hall, she met Cassandra and Bela.
"Where is the flask?" Cassandra was fidgeting, wringing her hands and looking towards her feet as she spoke.
"It appears your Uncle has helped himself to it."
Cassandra's eyes flicked up to her. "He was here?"
"It would seem so." She eyed them warily. "Where is your sister?"
Neither Bela or Cassandra would answer, but their wide eyes gave her everything she needed. The cellar.
Exasperated, she turned, leaving them to stare after her as she went to investigate what their impulsive sister was up to.
xx
The emotions that swept through Alcina collided violently into one another, the friction igniting a burning rage. This could not be. The cell was empty, the only sign it was ever occupied was the half-dried pool of blood beneath the rusted shackles and the fresh blood covering the floor closest to her and trailing out of the cell door and into the hallway.
Her composure broke. "Come out, you little bitch."
From the darkness of the main part of the cellar, she heard a rustling. Daniela stepped forward, hands and mouth covered in blood.
Contempt dripped from her words. "What have you done!? You ungrateful, fool of a child!"
"Mother, I –"
"No! I don't want to hear another word! No more of your pathetic ..." She raised her hand, as if to strike her face. "You are not the only one who has experienced pain, who knows sacrifice! I have sacrificed all for you and –"
"Mother! I'm sorry! I killed him, I just dumped his body in the pit. I...I just wanted to be helpful. You said you wanted to be rid of him...and I was hungry."
Alcina was suspicious, but before she could question the girl further, a far-away scream caught the words in her throat.
"Mother...did you hear that? It sounded like..."
xx
Ethan took a sip of water from the bottle in his bag. His mouth was on fire, along with the rest of his body. It was certain he had a fever. Sweat was pouring from him, and the bitter wind shot the worst kind of chill through his aching body. His skin felt clammy and looked sallow and pale. Did he have an infection? His chest had completely scarred over, so if so, it was probably internal. Constricted by torn, bloody pieces of cloth, his fists burned where he had smashed the dolls head in, but it was too early to be feeling the effects from a wound only hours old even if it was infected. He had to push on, he had to survive long enough to save Rosemary. After that, he would let whatever the hell was coursing through his veins have him.
Just a little bit longer.
It wasn't hard finding the castle, nor get into it for that matter. He needed only to follow the signs right to the unlocked front door and into the foyer. Through the throbbing pain, Ethan tried to remember what Mary had told him. Get Lady Dimitrescu outside, the daughters could not stand the cold. He wished he had come here first...when he was feeling stronger.
But the flasks that he did manage to get already had a strange effect on him. Physically. He had barely felt it when he took the first woman's flask. But by the time he got to the reservoir, there was a vibration in the air that was palpable. As he got closer to that disgusting fish freak, it got stronger and stronger. Soon, he realized it wasn't the man...it was the flask. His entire body was reacting to his proximity to the flasks. But so far, he experienced no stronger sensations from the castle.
Gun drawn, he turned into the first room he found, which turned out to be basically empty, with the exception of a hoist way and a window. A dead end. He turned and went the other way, through the foyer, a few unlocked doors and a long hallway leading to a larger hall connected to a large main room by a set of short stairs. The whole place felt so opulent, grand even. How would he know where to start looking? Exploring the reservoir was bad enough. He thought he would be lost in the mines, that maybe he had taken a wrong turn. But even without realizing what it was at the time - that feeling guided him. Here in this place, he felt nothing except the disorienting heat from a fever and a cold and unyielding dread.
To his left he saw another door that appeared to lead outside. Good. It was nice to know he had a second exit in case he had to get out of there quickly, remembering Mary's words about the women's sensitivity to the cold.
As he stepped towards the door, a soft peal of laughter rang out.
His eyes darted, but he saw no one.
"This is the visitor!?" A voice came from above him, around him. He turned in place – he was still alone.
"Oh, it can't be." Another woman's voice. This can't be good.
"Bela I think it is. This is too good!"
"Mother told us to stay away until she returned, but this is too easy. Look at him, he's nearly dead already. We shouldn't trouble Mother with the task."
As if succumbing to a hallucination from the fever, two women appeared from almost thin air, their bodies suddenly forming before his eyes directly between him and the exit. Ethan fired at the blonde's head, but it didn't seem to affect her. Did her skin...move around the bullet?
She laughed at him as she exploded again into a swarming mass of black. The buzzing invaded his ears and instantly he realized what was happening – they were made of bugs. He had no time to move before the flies swarmed him, tearing into the flesh of his arms and digging into the cloth bandages wrapping his fists. He tried to slap them off as they burrowed their way under his skin.
They moved to his face, his eyes, in his mouth. It seemed like they were going to take over his whole body. He braced to fall to his knees when, suddenly, they were falling dead around him, their thick corpses raining down on the floor around his feet.
How the hell did that happen?
A sudden shrill cry of pain pulled him back to reality, and he took off running back the way he came. Instead of turning out the front door, he passed it into the room with the hoist way and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against it while the bugs came in droves from the crack underneath. It was only seconds before they were fully formed again, mere feet in front of him. But something was wrong with the blonde. She was grabbing at her face, wailing. From beneath her clutching fingers, he could see the raw, bloody flesh of an incomplete face; an empty socket where her left eye should have been.
"Sister! How - "
Before either could make a move, Ethan fired a shot at the elevator car behind them, then aimed back toward the window. "Either of you make a move and I'll blow that goddamn window out!" He didn't know how either, but he wanted to take advantage of their confusion and pain.
"What do you want?!" The brunette screamed.
That got their attention.
"Where is the flask, the flask with my daughter in it!"
She pointed at her mutilated sister, who glared at him with her one good eye. "What did you do to her!?"
He had no idea.
"Where. Is. The. Flask." He was getting impatient...and dizzy.
Neither spoke, but neither moved either. Were they sizing him up? Could they see how weak he was? They could probably see the sweat pouring off him. Would they call his bluff? Ethan waited a few seconds before raising his arm and firing a round into the ceiling. He steeled his face as pain shot through his chest with the recoil. "Last fucking chance."
The brunette held up her hand. "It's not here, it's at the factory! Heisenberg took it! Karl Heisenberg!"
"Cassandra! You idiot!" Bela shrieked, as she lunged toward Ethan's arm, exploding into a shower of huge, black flies. He fired once as the flies slammed into his flesh, burrowing and shredding as they worked up his arm. The glass rained down on them, shrieks echoed the room into the courtyard, quickly swept away into the black, cold night air.
Ethan didn't flinch as the wind blew the glass back into the room. Shards rained down on him, slicing skin and one large piece coming dangerously close to relieving him of his arm. Mary wasn't wrong...the cold was unbelievably effective. The bugs died midair, and a few quick shots to the head of the brunette were all that was needed to end it.
He needed to move out. There was still the lady of the house and another daughter, and he was too sick, too feverish to face anyone else. If the flask was at the factory, he would need to make his way there, before his time ran out. He pulled the door open, hitting the body of the woman where she fell. They were quickly degenerating into a black, slick looking pile of flesh.
Mary had told him to bring what he had back to her before making an attempt on Heisenberg. It was just as well, he wasn't going to make it much further in his current state. He had been going without food or rest with the fever burning him away. In fact, he wasn't even sure he would be able to make it back to her without collapsing. He would push, but he might be going to join Mia sooner than he hoped.
He made it back to the painting of the three daughters staring down at him. He cast a backwards glance at the room with the hoist way to see a glassy eyed, partially degenerated brunette staring back out at him, expressionless. Clusters of bugs littered the floor around her. Two out of three, not too bad. He made his way to the door, limping and nearly delirious with fever and adrenaline spiking through his body.
"What have you done to my daughters?!" The voice was full of rage and boomed all around him and directly in his ear at once. He heard a female scream.
Before he could turn to face them, he felt an unbearably searing pain sink low in this stomach. His head pitched down to see thick, black barbs impaling him low in the gut, spread out between his hips. He didn't have a chance to scream before she twisted them, slamming them to the side and separating his upper body from his legs. He hit the bottom of the stairs hard, his skull slamming into marble. Before his vision dulled completely, he saw the blurry outline of a woman in black standing over him. Her features were contorted in a rage as she raised her hand to the sky. Huge, black claws sliced down towards his neck, severing his head in a single swipe.
xx
The man lay in pieces on the floor. Head separated from neck, legs from torso. He was dead, thankfully, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't bring them back. Daniela lay on the floor, sobbing and pleading with her mother as the blood and viscera oozed from the dissected parts of Ethan Winters. The white marble floor was awash in thick, reddish black streaks. Beyond the doorway, she saw her sister's still body, eyes open and glassy.
"Mother, please don't leave me. He's dead. We don't have to worry about him anymore. Please. Stay with me."
"Daniela – I will end this. His death was of no consequence. He didn't come of his own accord. You already know, Miranda must pay. I'm going to see Heisenberg." Her tone was tight, clipped. Emotionless.
Daniela sat still as stone; eyes cast to the floor.
"I'm going to prepare myself to leave. Go, clean yourself up. Stay in your room until I return."
Alcina walked back through the door, leaving her alone with the remnants of the man who had taken her family. Her mother had not shed a single tear for her sisters.
Would she have cried for me? Of course not.
She wanted to scream after her. To ask her if she had ever loved them at all.
How could she be so cold?
She pushed those thoughts down. Her mother did love her, in her own way. She knew that much. She knew...
Her mind went back to Chris. She took a breath and stood, stepping over Ethan's mutilated body to stare out the window into the night. She hoped he had made it out.
Daniela couldn't believe her mother's words. She was going to kill Chris. She had to do something. She ran to him, keys in hand.
"She's coming. You need to leave."
Chris pitched forward in his shackles towards her, startled. He must have been half asleep, his eyes darted around wildly as if her voice had shocked him back into hell from a wonderful dream.
"Leave? I can't just-"
Daniela grabbed the key ring from her pocket. "I'm letting you go." She got close enough to him that if he felt the notion, he could reach her throat. But he didn't move to grab her. Didn't move at all except to lift his arms out to her to unlock his restraints.
She grabbed the shackle on his right hand and twisted it to reveal the keyhole.
"Daniela" He grabbed her wrist. "Why are you doing this. Why are you helping me?"
"The only condition is that if you survive, you return here. Before you leave the village. To say goodbye." She ran her fingers along the underside of his wrist, up to his elbow. "It is quite lonely here. And we can't leave. But you can. You can kill Miranda. For what she's done to us." She grabbed his hand and moved it to her cheek.
"Mother means well. She wants to keep us safe. But she is coming to kill you. And I think you can help us. I think you can help Mother." The keys slid along the large metal ring in her hand. She lifted them up to his eye level. Thankfully, he didn't lunge for them as she feared.
"Chris, tell me I'm right."
His face was hard, but his eyes were so soft she let out a sigh. He didn't answer, but she slipped the key into the lock at his wrist anyway, and the shackle fell away.
He stepped back from her. "Wait, give me your arm." She pulled out her blade and slid it across the top of his left arm, drawing blood. "I don't want her to follow you. I need her to think you're dead."
Blood poured down his forearm and pooled between them on the floor. She held the blade out to him. "Take this too. You might need it." She pointed to the back of the cellar. "I left the door open for you. Go through it and follow the hallway out. It will take you outside."
He stared at the bloody weapon in his hand.
"Daniela – It may not be right away, but once this is over...I will come back." This time, he placed his hand on her cheek, unbidden, before turning to run.
Daniela felt sick. Her sisters were gone, she couldn't protect her mother from that monster Miranda and couldn't stop her from leaving, alone. But she had faith in Chris; both that he would fight to destroy Miranda and that he would eventually return. Through him, she would have a chance to help her mother, to give them a chance to rebuild their lives. Even if he didn't stay with her. She had hope.
Daniela reached out to touch her reflection in the glass; the cold made her fingers hurt but she didn't move them. Instead, she stared at the blood coating her arms and hands. His blood. She brought her finger to her mouth...the taste was beautiful; sweet like honey mixed with cloves. She closed her eyes as the feeling overwhelmed her. Beautiful.
She was so deep in thought that she did not hear the footsteps behind her. Didn't feel the muzzle of the pistol in her back, directly behind her heart. The shot rang out, slicing through her and into the glass of the window in front of her, exposing her to the black air that would consume her. He forced his forearm around her throat and held her against the open window as the wind bit at her, burning her. She tried to scatter her body to escape, but she found she could not. Her arm fell to her side to pull out her blade, only to remember that she no longer had it. The cold breeze coming in was agonizing. Though it was getting harder to move, she managed to twist to face her attacker; using her hands and teeth to bite and gnaw at the completely regenerated Ethan Winters.
Her teeth sunk into his neck as he fired again into her midsection. Thick liquid hit her mouth as she felt the searing pain of the seconds shot, and she nearly choked as she doubled over into him. His blood was bitter, a contrast to the sweetness she had just tasted. Daniela pulled back in disgust as it spilled over her hands and throat, black as oil. It covered all traces of Chris, and eventually, the black was all she saw as the night came in to claim her.
[AN: Starting to see the work of Ethan's Cadou! Sorry for all the dark-ish-ness...but this is a "darkfic" after all :)
Don't worry...there is light at the end of the tunnel...you know...probably!
So, what do you think Donna and Sal are up to during all this?
Also, shout out to sniperbro1998 - thanks for all your comments. I love reading them! Thank you for sticking with me!]
