Elizabeth lunged for her tall opponent, who quickly leapt to the side. Their swords clashed violently before the tip of her sword met his tailcoat.
Claude smiled at his mistress. "Very nice, Mistress."
Claude went to take her sword from her hand but she turned a glare on him, her grip tightening around the shaft. Her emeralds shimmered as they sharpened threateningly. His eyebrows flexed questioningly.
"You're letting me win."
"I can assure you, my lady, I am not."
"Stop lying."
Claude smiled devilishly, leaning down to let his golden eyes meet hers. He put his index finger over his plump lips, as if issuing her a secret. He whispered delicately, teasingly, "My contract prohibits me from lying."
Elizabeth, her cheeks becoming warm, jerked around, arms crossed over her chest, huffing. "I know you are letting me win."
Claude bowed down, hand held solemnly over his heart. "I am simply fighting with human strength."
Elizabeth turned and looked over him. She thought carefully before she said, "Fight with your normal strength. Your demon strength."
Claude's eyes widened, though his lips still held a straight line. "But, Mistress, I could hurt—"
"I don't care."
"As your Butler, it is my job to protect you. How would that work if I am the one hurting you?"
"We will have a safe word. As soon as this word is spoken, the fight stops. Understood?"
"Y-yes, my lady." Still on one knee, he bowed his head. "What is our safe word?"
"Hmm..." Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully. "Dragonfly."
Claude nodded simply, and then backed up a few paces. They began the match the traditional way, followed by Claude shouting, "On guard? Ready? Fence!"
Elizabeth was engaged in a fight like never before. Their swords clashed frighteningly. She could hardly see his sword as it lunged so quietly and so steadily. She was not an opponent to be taken lightly though. Elizabeth was born and raised to protect the Queen against surrounding countries. Her family was raised to. Of course fencing would run through her veins.
But it seemed she was no match for a demon.
Elizabeth threw herself back to avoid being caught in the radius of his sword and tripped over her own befuddled feet and hit the ground. She quickly stood up, got back in her fencing stance, glanced around for her opponent, but he wasn't there.
Elizabeth hurriedly twisted and turned, but her Butler was nowhere in sight.
And then she heard him whisper sweetly in her ear, "Tag."
You're it.
Elizabeth quickly jerked around and began to lunge furiously, not caring where she aimed anymore. She could care less. For now, she would have to go in hope that she could win against a golden-eyed demon.
He dodged every move she made. And then he disappeared again.
And then his sword stabbed into her back. She felt her back begin to go numb and she began to fall.
His hand caught the back of her head before it hit the ground. He was leaned over her, panting. She could feel his sweet breath wash over her cheeks. She didn't mind the closeness, because she was still reminiscing the fight just seconds ago. Elizabeth was panting, just as he. She didn't feel pain, just numbness taking over her limbs.
But Claude...why did he look so fatigued? He was a demon, and she was but a human girl.
"D-Dragonfly," she stammered breathlessly.
He smiled gently at the irony, but then it disappeared within his heavy pants. "Mistress, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you had the Right Hand of God."
She barely managed to smile. It felt good to be complimented by Claude, a powerful demon. Her demon.
For now.
Elizabeth swallowed a large lump in her throat, shaking the thought away. She tried to sit up, but remembered her back was put out. Claude seemed to notice and sat up from his position over her.
And as he stood, he brought Elizabeth up with him, taking her in his arms. "The feeling should return to you momentarily. I shall take you to your bedroom to rest up."
"That sounds nice," she murmured against his coat. She didn't really have a choice. Her neck was going numb.
Claude carried her to her bedroom and took off some of her over clothes so she could rest comfortably. Then he put her under the covers and she wanted to snuggle deep within its sheets, but she couldn't.
Before he left her side, Elizabeth murmured, "Claude?"
"Yes, Mistress?"
"I would like to visit mummy when I awake."
"Yes, my lady."
"Mistress, I'm afraid you have slept a little longer than I thought you would." The curtains were already open from this morning, showing the sun was on the brink of leaving this day to go to the night. Elizabeth immediately sat up, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.
She sat up, ready to let Claude dress her and comb her. She yawned, and as she moved to sat up, a sharp pain stung her backside. Elizabeth hissed, crouching forward. Claude caught her and rubbed her back. She cried out as his hands swept over the wound.
"I offer my sincerest apologies, my lady. This is my fault."
She took her chin off his shoulder to look him in the eye. "No, Claude, its mine," she replied with a wince. She tried to look over shoulder at her wound, but only hurt herself in the process.
"Do not move to rashly, Lady Elizabeth. I may know something that will help."
So Elizabeth stayed still as Claude hurried out of the room. The wound on her back pulsed unbearably. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep from crying as she waited for him to return.
I should've known better than to challenge him. I'm an idiot. Why did I think I could beat him?
Elizabeth knew her pride was at fault, but did not regret fighting him. He complimented her. She was good. Maybe even great. She couldn't be defeated by any enemy. Well, any human enemy.
Claude rushed back into the room, a metal pail in his hand. He set it on the ground beside the bed and then helped Elizabeth lay on her stomach. He unbuttoned her nightdress and her back was exposed. He cringed, but only slightly at seeing the large bruise.
She turned her head toward him, laying her cheek in the mound of sheets as Claude used his teeth to remove his white elegant glove, then took off the other with his pale, bare hand. His fingers were long and elegant, his nails nightest black.
Claude rolled his sleeves to his elbows, dipped his hand in the pail and the tip off his fingers came back green. It was a dark forest green that dripped down his hand slowly.
"What is that...?" Elizabeth asked.
Claude replied, "It is a seaweed salve. It should help with the pain."
She winced as he rubbed it on her wound. Though she couldn't see it, she imagined it looked like a large, blackened bruise at the left base of her back.
"Where did you get it?"
Claude smiled at her interest. "An Indian herbalist was selling it at market. In fact, most of her remedies were quite resourceful." The salve made her skin cool and she felt the injured nerves begin to heal. She sighed in delight, shivering. Claude asked, "Would you like me to get more?"
"Yes."
Claude continued rubbing it in until it completely masked the wound and he asked her how it felt, though he already knew the answer. She didn't reply. He slapped the wound, either to test it, or to get a reaction. He got both.
"Hey!" She cried irritably, sitting up. Her shirt began to slip down her back, but she held it against her breast.
"Just checking," he replied with a demeaning smirk. "It feels better, does it not?"
"Yeah," she mumbled softly.
"Then it has completed its purpose, mistress. Though, for extra measure, I suggest we leave it on for the rest of the night."
She nodded and turned away, settling herself on her knees. Claude completely unbuttoned her silk nightgown and now she simply held it her chest.
He wrapped gauze all the way around her waist and over the bruise bathed by the salve. When done, he gazed at his handiwork but then something else caught his eye. A long, purple scar that rode across her pale, perfect flesh. It rode from her left shoulder blade to the center of her back. He stared intensely, even though he had gazed upon it many times before.
"What is it?" Elizabeth said as she noticed his hesitation.
"You'd think the scars would have completely disappeared by now..."
She immediately jerked her head around and snapped, "Don't talk about them."
Claude, not in the least shocked, nodded. "Yes, Mistress. I apologize. It simply peaks my curiosity."
"Well, seek someone else to satisfy it."
Claude didn't reply. He helped her stand and then began to help her with her corset. She cringed as it closed over her wound.
"Milady, are you still in pain?"
"No. I'm fine."
He continued with the corset, then she pulled her pure black dress over her head. Where she was going, the people were attracted to bright colors.
"Prepare the carriage, Claude. I can finish on my own."
He nodded, and left.
Elizabeth straightened her dress and then began to tie a black bonnet around her head like a headband. She let her hair fall in golden ringlets around her neck and cascaded down her back. She straightened it with her fingers.
Elizabeth then pulled on her white cloth gloves and straightened her black dress. She then descended down to the parlor, where Claude waited at the door. He pushed his spectacles upon his nose and the then grabbed an umbrella from the coat rack. He welcomed her to the door, popping the umbrella open, a small smile grazing his face.
"Are you ready to leave, Mistress?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes."
Placing the umbrella over her head, Claude followed her out to the carriage. The rain fell heavily upon them in icy sheets.
"Raining again, is it?" She asked.
Claude replied, "Yes, I'm afraid so. It is the rainy season."
As they approached the carriage, "I rather like the rain. And I love the smell of it. It washes away the pollution and filth we leave on the land. That is the way of humanity."
Claude smirked gently, "Yes, my lady." He helped her in the carriage and then got in the driver's seat.
"Claude," she called.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Be sure not to let anyone see us."
He did not reply, for he already knew this, and she knew he did, but she felt the need to emphasize the need. And she had good reason.
It was a long while, driving through the rain as it pounded relentlessly against the windows and filled her ears with its rhythmic sound. She knew that Claude would be drenched when they reached their destination.
Elizabeth felt her heart begin to thrum at irregular beats, pounding frighteningly against her rib cage. She always got this way when they went to go see mother. No one knew she was there and no one was going to. But the slight chance that someone could figure it out was there, and knowing this was enough to get her frantic. But the thing that frightened her most was seeing her again.
The carriage pulled onto a dusty road that led up a hill of dead grass. In front of the driveway was a rusty sign made of black iron. It read, Blacktree Hill Asylum.
The carriage drove up the steep hill. Claude brought the carriage to a stop in front of the asylum and then slid out of the driver's seat. He opened the door for his mistress and she took his hand as he lead her to the door of the large, creaky building, holding the black parasol over her head. Claude knocked on the door and it was five or so minutes before it opened, the hinges squeaking in protest.
A chubby old man with greasy skin and beefy fingers peered through the crack in the door. He grunted at the sight of Claude, not yet remembering who he was, and then laid eyes on Elizabeth, who carried the glare she usually wore around him. He began to smile a big smile. He only had two to three teeth left in his mouth, and you could see his large, lolling tongue, black from years of smoking from a pipe.
"Gollish," Elizabeth acknowledged him.
"Why, if it isn't the rich lady from outside London. I haven't seen you in so long, Mistress Midford." Gollish threw open the door and bent down at her feet, grabbing her gloved hand and about to put his lips to it, before Elizabeth yanked her hand away. Claude, beside her, had tensed up and looked at his mistress from the corner of his eye.
"Shut up," she snapped. When around Gollish, her sweet and kind demeanor vanished completely. She could not stand this old man. And she was soon about to be reminded why.
Gollish somewhat resembled a beefy, underground troll as he got to his feet and directed her inside. The parlor was large and spacious and smelt of alcohol. Elizabeth sat down on the red velvet couch and dusted off her dress.
Gollish grabbed a full bottle of liquor and poured himself a glass and then gave Elizabeth one. She didn't take it. He eventually sat down.
"I expect the terms of our bargain have been kept?" Elizabeth questioned.
Gollish rubbed his chin. "Hmm...for the most part."
Elizabeth glared intensely at that.
"Well, my men had to put her down a few weeks ago after she had another spell. She attacked one of the keepers and wouldn't calm down under the strongest sedations so we had to physically knock her out. Of course, we were careful not to harm her eternally..."
"Attacking your men or not, you said you wouldn't lay a finger to harm her."
"We had no choice!" Spittle hung at the edge of his lips.
Elizabeth sighed. "I wish to see her now."
Gollish regained his composure, sitting back in his seat. He began in a sadistic grin, "Well, there is an entrance fee, Miss..."
Elizabeth scoffed. "You disgust me, you greedy old man." She dropped a few coins on the coffee table. You only receive half of your pay since she was hurt. Now take me to her."
Gollish scowled but chugged the rest of his alcohol down and then began to lead her to the cells.
They passed many cells. Elizabeth could hear the moans and cries of the damned...of the insane. They reached out their hands grabbing at her clothes and her hair, but the hallway was wide enough that she could never be touched.
But then Elizabeth heard a manly, brutal scream, as a man slammed into his cell door. It startled Elizabeth and she mistakenly stepped away. This immediately put her in reach of another inmate, and his large, pudgy hands came around her mouth. Elizabeth's gasp was muffled.
The man wrapped his arm around her neck. Claude lunged forward, his arm outstretched, but the man gripped her strongly and slammed her against the cell door. "Move and I'll snap her neck!"
Elizabeth thought she could puke at his putrid scent. As Claude stood frozen, she sighed.
"Now..." The man giggled. "O-o-open the door. "
Gollish, looking startled, began to pick up his ring of keys. He did not want a noble dying on his land, for it would bring bad business.
He unlocked the cell door and the man pushed it open, still clinging to his prize through the bars. When the door was open, he quickly swung around, releasing Elizabeth for just a moment, before grabbing her again.
"I-I think I'll take you with me," the man gurgled in her ear. "I...I've never had a virgin before..." he laughed again, then licked the shell of her ear.
Elizabeth crowed in disgust, "Claude, get this filthy man off me."
Claude smiled devilishly. "But if I do, he will kill you, my lady."
Elizabeth glared at his sarcasm.
"Yes, my Mistress."
"Oi, what're you doin'?" The man began to shake.
Claude took off his glove. And with lightning movements, he hit all the man's vital spots. The man was stunned at first, and then screamed in agony. He released Elizabeth and began to roll around on the floor, screaming, "I can't feel my body! I'm dead! I'm dead!"
"Oh, I doubt that..." Claude replied, and then used his foot to push the man back in his cell, and then he shut the door behind him. He put his glove back on his hand.
"You took too long," Elizabeth snapped.
"I apologize, Lady Elizabeth. I just enjoyed seeing you so vulnerable." Claude bowed.
Elizabeth growled at him, turning to Gollish with her arms crossed. "Continue," she snapped at him.
Gollish blinked, but continued to lumber on down the corridor. Now, all the asylum inmates were excited and ready to try their luck at escaping, and one slammed on the door with all his force. Elizabeth took an involuntary step away, and ran straight into Claude's chest.
"Now, my lady, we do not want a repeat of what happened."
Elizabeth yanked away. "Quit being so arrogant, demon." And then she went to catch up with Gollish, who was already at the end of the hall.
Claude couldn't help smiling as he followed.
Gollish stopped at a large door at the end of the hallway. He unlocked the door, and opened it, gesturing for her to enter. "There ya go, m'lady."
As she walked in, Claude followed.
Her mother sat on her cot, seemingly asleep, but Elizabeth knew she wasn't.
"Mother? I'm here."
The woman was silent for a long time, but then began to sit up. She looked up at Elizabeth, a crooked smile on her face and her flat, flaxen hair sticking to her face.
"My...daughter."
"Yes it's me."
Her mother got out of the cot, looking deeply from butler to daughter. Then her gaze rested on Claude. "I see you still have the...b-butler in black."
"Yes, mother. Claude is still by my side."
"I'm surprised. I would thought he'd 'ave eaten you alive by now," she said, still grinning.
Surprised, Elizabeth uttered, "Mother?"
Her mother began to get excited, leaping from foot to foot. "I-I made something for you."
Still uneasy, Elizabeth replied, "What is it?"
Her mother wandered back over to her cot, and lifted her flat, dirty pillow.
"I made you a new bonnet!"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, tis' your favorite color!" Her mother reached out, but Elizabeth took off her own solid black bonnet and let her mother put on the pink one. It fit perfectly around her head, made especially for her.
"Thank you, mother."
She nodded solemnly. "Yes, it was before they took away my needles..."
Elizabeth paid for her mother to have all sorts of luxuries while here, including books and sewing needles and thread. Her mother was usually well behaved so Gollish didn't mind. Despite five or six spells, every month or so, she was a perfectly normal and capable woman.
These "spells" used to happen so often. The doctors had at least been able to figure out what was happening to her during them. During the spell, her mind would succumb to an imaginary place where everything is perfect. In her absence, a completely different person would rise and take her place. Elizabeth wasn't even sure if you could call it madness.
And not only that, but it was completely involuntary. She wanted complete control over her body but she couldn't have it. And not only that, but these other personalities would talk to her, persuade her movements and actions.
"You'll get them back soon," Elizabeth reassured, but her mother had already wandered toward Claude.
"How snide and cunning, little spider. Taking advantage of my little butterfly. I shall have you know that I am the lion that treads over your web. I shall crush you under the massive pads of my paws and the butterfly shall untangle herself from your web." Her voice had changed, deeper and frightening. It had happened again.
"Mother—?"
"What do you plan to do with my little butterfly, once the time has come? Shall you rip her apart inside and devour her innocent soul? Or shall you cook her flesh for your feast—?"
"Stop!"
Her own mother was uttering all of her possible fates and she couldn't stand it. How had she known what Claude was? Better yet, how did she know Elizabeth had a contract with him and the terms? It had to be the other voices, whispering nightmares in her ears.
"My little girl..." Her mother crowed, a smile on her pale face. "A demons whore."
"Mother, stop!"
A sudden crash of thunder rolled in the sky and Elizabeth dropped to her knees, crying. Elizabeth had had to deal with this every time she came to visit. She was called names, but never before had she endured this. Her mother had never let on that she knew any of her daughter's secrets.
"Lizzy? Are you okay?" Her mother had regained an unusually cheery voice. "Is it true, darling? Have you reduced yourself to giving away your body—your heart—to a demon?"
"No, I..."
Her mother reached out, pulling her into her arms, cradling her only daughter.
"I hope you two live happily in hell together."
Elizabeth had had enough. She pushed away from her mother, and she fell to the floor, startled. She stared wide eyed at her daughter.
"No! Just shut up! Just stop!"
And then Elizabeth fled.
Claude was left in the room with the deranged woman. She looked toward him, staring into his golden orbs, and saw him for who he really was. A demon. A devourer of souls. But her face did not twist in anger or disgust. Her face became drenched in her own tears and she reached out her hand, pale from being unable to go out in the suns embrace. Claude bent down to the sad woman, and she grabbed his jacket, softly at first, but then pulling her face closer to his.
"Please," the woman cried, clutching his jacket tightly, with pleading eyes filling with tears. "Don't strip my dear butterfly of her wings."
Elizabeth sat silently in the velvet seat of the carriage, listening as the rain became quieter with every drop. She wiped away a few remaining tears and watched home come into view.
Her mother knew about the contract. And she hated her for it. She hated her...
Claude pulled the carriage to the stop in front of the mansion. He got out of his driver's seat, drenched from the crying of the skies, and opened the black parasol as Elizabeth stepped out. He began to follow her to the door, but she tripped over a pebble and fell forward.
As Claude caught her, the parasol fell from his hands. She fell into his arm and he could hear her sniffle.
And then she went limp in his grasp, and he tightened his grip so she wouldn't collapse in the ground. She began sobbing, wailing. "She hates me, Claude! My mother hates me..."
Never before had he seen such an emotional outburst from his mistress. She was calm and happy and determined, but she was human, and he couldn't expect any more or any less.
She sobbed into his jacket as he picked her up from the ground. He gently whispered in her ear, "Now, now, Elizabeth. Even the cruelest demons in hell can't help but love their child."
And he carried her inside, up the stairs. He took off her new bonnet, and her gloves. He took the ribbons from her hair and stripped off her dress and corset and put her in her nightgown. He lay her down and wrapped the sheets around her.
"Please try and get some rest until sunrise, Lady Elizabeth."
"Claude?" She sat up.
"Yes, my lady?"
"What do you plan to do with me when the contract is over?"
"My lady..."
She threw herself at him, her hands on either side of his face. She cried, "Tell me! This is an order!"
Claude sighed, then looking to meet her eyes. Such dominance and fierceness in a grieving little girl. He found it most delectable. "I plan on ravishing you, mistress. Breaking you apart until there is nothing left of your pureness. Feeding my hunger until I am appeased. That is, what demons are meant to do, but we all do not do it in the same ways."
"And how do you plan to do it?" Elizabeth said, gripping his face tighter.
Claude looked her directly in the eye, sighing, and a somewhat sad look driven by his words. "I tend to make my meals last an eternity."
I thought I should say that I was really nervous about posting this one. I know people won't be attracted to it since its about the high-pitched, squeaky, preppy girl. I do hope someone will at least find joy in reading it. If not, I might just delete it and pretend it never happened.
But anyway, I really want some ideas on how to develop Claude and Elizabeth's relationship. ^_^
And comment please!
