Chapter Nine

Dust and Bloody Diamonds

You confuse me

With the many faces that you wear...

Why do take me for granted?

(Why do you do this to me)

Why won't you try to let me in?

You are learning

What your life would be like without me

I am burning

But I can't let go

You have to know that you are killing me

-- Why (You Confuse Me) by Mandi Perkins

Violet stared blindly at Olaf, unable to move or speak. It was not only Olaf's simple admittance that had convinced her that her parents had done what he had said. It made too much sense – provided the reason for everything, perhaps even for her own predicament. Or perhaps when her parents had joined VFD, her future had been set in stone – or when the VFD had been created, or…Her mind swirled with thoughts of the past, and how bleak they made the future seem to her, at this crossroads between the girl she could never again be, and the woman who had watched her last hopes trickle away like so many thick, intangible raindrops.

"Please take me to my room. I need, I-I need to lie down. Please."

She felt herself being helped up, and then swept into thin but strong arms and carried through hallways and up stairs, and laid on soft fabric and pillows.

Olaf eyed her carefully, studying her face as if he knew her thoughts. He stood to leave but she caught his arm with her trembling hand, and he sat back on the edge of the bed, more out of surprise than out of conscious thought.

"I understand why now, why you did it."

She sat up and pulled her hand from his to wrap her arms around herself. "If your parents had killed mine, I would have at tried to exact some kind of revenge."

"And you've tried to kill me, because I killed your mother and father. Yet you have not finished the task."

"There's just too little left of myself to lose that last piece in murder. I hate you, but I won't kill you. You've taken everything from me, but I can't take something that isn't mine to take."

Olaf did not know what to say to a simple view of the world that he had abandoned so long ago. He could not believe that after all that Violet had been through, altruism would still live in her heart and mind.

"You're a better person than I am, Violet Baudelaire. I could never forgive myself if I let this world keep everything it owes me, and simply turned away from the past."

Her gaze was like a spotlight, burning into his eyes. "But I would forgive you. Would that do?"

He very nearly convinced himself to say yes, but he choked on the lie that he wanted so much to believe. Anger and self-hatred bubbled, threatening to overwhelm him.

"In two days, you and I and my henchmen will travel back to the city to kidnap two children after burning their house, and their parents, into ashes. I wonder if you will still forgive me then."

Violet's eyes filled with tears and she rolled to face away from him. As he left the room, the sound of her quiet sobs burned his ears. He had not hated himself as much as he did on this day in a very long time.

---

Violet spent the better part of those two days in bed, when not forced by one of the henchmen lurking in the house down to the laboratory on Olaf's orders to work on inventions for the upcoming arson. The devices were not difficult for her, a seasoned inventor and mechanic, to create, leaving her hands busy but her mind free to wander. Several times, she planned elaborate escapes, and even tried three of them only to be dragged back from however far she had succeeded in running. She did not see much of Olaf, even after these failed attempts, save listening to his bloodthirsty speeches at the meetings he held in the laboratory or kitchen, which she crept downstairs after dark in robe and nightgown to clandestinely eavesdrop upon.

Many times she was overwhelmed by confusion over her feelings for Olaf. Was he truly just a killer, doomed to the wretched desire for revenge, or did was he truly capable of good, trapped into misdeeds by desperation? But though she puzzled over his motives, it was other feelings which occupied her time and thoughts quite often…especially when memory served to hint that Olaf also had similar feelings for her, the idea of which made her by turns both disgusted with herself and curiously, dangerously intrigued. She was grown now, no longer an innocent girl, and her thoughts very much reflected this newfound maturity.

And finally, it was the morning of the crime, and Violet could think of nothing but the horrible acts which she would witness and had helped to create.

Olaf knocked on her door at dawn, and she blearily woke, and dressed after he left, putting on the outfit which made her look like a very rich young heiress. The house they would destroy was situated in one of the best guarded, well-moneyed sections of the city, and the troupe would have to perform their instructions to the tee in order to succeed. She and Olaf would be a wealthy young couple, accompanied by henchmen dressed as servants.

When she finally descended to where the cars awaited, not a smile or joking jostle was seen, the men and women assembled as serious as if they were facing criminal trials – which, she thought, were quite possibly in their futures. Their uniforms sparkled in the decay of the garage, where weak sunlight leaked in from the windows.

And suddenly, Olaf had arrived, and gave an uplifting speech during which the troupe cheered and boasted before returning to their former restraint. Olaf escorted Violet to their car, swallowing thickly like a gawky adolescent at her intricate emerald green dress. With diamonds sparkling at her ears and a gold cameo clasping the neck of her dress, Violet looked every inch the heiress – which, he thought with a sharp pain, she was. He had simply kept her on the run so long that Violet had never had the chance to don the clothes she now wore, and search for an equally wealthy, charming husband among the city's well-to-do. And now, she would never have that dashing young man of means, because he had her money and held her captive…he sighed within and handed Violet into the car a bit more roughly than he intended, sliding in beside her.

Violet studied Olaf carefully and realized that he was nervous, although moments before he had seemed cocky and entirely sure of himself. His kid-gloved hands sat entwined in the lap of his immaculate grey wool pants, gold cuff links shining at the sleeves of his white shirt under his inky black, long coat. The barest hint of stubble brushed his face, lending it an almost rugged quality. Much as she and her siblings had used to think Olaf filthy and greasy, she blushed to think, he had really been no more so than the average man living a life of constant travel, and the man sitting before her looked every inch a count.

Against all logic, her body seemed to act of its own volition when she reached out to clasp his hand, and said, as the car rattled out of the garage onto the road to the city, "Being tense is not going to help you, Olaf. You're going to need to relax a bit if you're going to do this without hurting more people than necessary." She balked at her phrasing when she remembered – how could she forget – that people would be hurt, and killed.

"Relax? Relax? Strange advice from someone who wishes that I would fail and be thrown into prison to rot, Violet."

She shook her head and sighed. "What would I have to do to get you to simply give all this up and, and—"

He sneered at her speech. "And what? Run away with you, give up being the evil bastard that I am, and live happily ever after?"

Now she took both his hands in hers and faced him as the towers of the city suddenly loomed above them, twisting in her expensive gown heedless of the fabric or anything but the man before her. "Yes, for God's sake, yes! I would give anything, name it, if you would do just that. Just turn the damn car around and leave with me to go away and live. Olaf!" Her last word was almost a sob, and her small hands gripped his tightly in anguish. Never had he looked more aloof and regal, and yet dangerously seductive, as he did before her now in the true attire of his title.

He was taken aback by her sudden vehemence, the strength of her emotion evident in her utter desperation. One of Olaf's hands reached cupped her face. "Anything may be more than you're prepared to give Violet. And though I should be ready to demand just that from you, villain that I am, I find myself incapable of forcing myself upon you in exchange for my retirement.

I wish, Violet, you don't know how much I crave the kind of freedom that you're telling me I could simply reach out and take. But I just don't see how I could do it, I honestly don't. I've been this way for so long, I cannot just –"

The passionate feeling that had been filling her to bursting finally flowed over, and before she realized what she was doing, Violet had leaned over to plant her lips firmly upon Olaf's in a desperate kiss. He crushed her to him, deepening the kiss that neither of them was willing to stop. They clung to each other desperately, the pent up frustrations that had been locked away finding an outlet. Their lips parted and met again, each short of breath but not ceasing their contact until the car stopped and they leapt apart, astonished at what they had allowed themselves.

With the slamming of the doors of the cars behind them, Olaf seemed to snap out of a reverie, and a storm appeared in his eyes. His voice was a dangerous growl when he choked out, "Damn it, Violet. I have no choice." He dragged her from the car without further words, and set his arm upon hers. One of the henchmen behind her shoved a gun into his pocket and followed them closely as they began their stroll towards the largest mansion on the street, Olaf slowly scanning the street for pedestrians and other potential witnesses. Violet had yanked her gauze half-veil across her eyes, hiding the tears that threatened to spill. Curse it, she was so confused – she wanted to kill Olaf, she wanted to kiss him, do more than kiss him…she remembered the feel of his body pressed against hers, and when she looked up and their eyes met, he was seemed to be caught up in much the same mindset.

"Do you have it with you? And do you remember how to set it?"

She reached into the small clutch pinned to her sleeve and felt the detonator within. Olaf's henchmen had been able to plant miniature explosives outside the house at night but had yet to infiltrate the house to place the detonator, which she and Olaf would do, setting it to explode less than two minutes after its placement. It would be Violet herself who would put this murder into motion, at Olaf's insistence, and it sickened her to her very core that she could not refuse. Olaf knew where Sunny and Klaus lived, hopefully in peace, and she shuddered to think that they would come to more harm and pain than they had faced already.

They stopped briefly in front of the mansion, and then suddenly Violet had no more time to think. Olaf, Violet, and one of the henchmen burst into the house. The two men bounded upstairs and Violet waited in the entrance, turning to run. She had reached the door again when the sound of a gun being cocked behind her made her turn to see Olaf and the henchman, each with bloody hands holding an unconscious child.

Several of the women outside crept inside and removed the children, taking off in one of the cars for Montgomery's mansion, leaving Violet to be watched by the henchman and Olaf as she hesitated to set the detonator. The henchman looked impatient, and pointed the gun at her head. "Hurry the fuck up, bitch, the parents ain't gonna be unconscious forever!"

Olaf glared at him as she set the detonator on the floor in the room's center. "You would do well to point that damn gun elsewhere and keep your mouth shut, lackey." He watched Violet set the device to begin its countdown with a click.

She would never know if he meant to pull the trigger, or if the stress made his hand slip, but a bang sounded from the gun in the henchman's hand. Her head smashed into the floor, and it wasn't until she sat up that she realized that she had fallen not because she had been shot, but because Olaf's falling body had landed on her as he dove to stop the bullet from blasting itself through her brain. Instead, the small scrap of metal had ripped through the side of Olaf's torso, and a red stain began to spread across his snowy shirt.

The henchman turned and ran, throwing the gun away from him as he sped outside to the last waiting car, and the rest of the assembled troupe hastily began the journey back to Montgomery's abode, leaving Violet to wonder if there would be not two but even four victims of this plan now gone horribly awry.

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Author's Notes

Well, things have taken quite a few turns it seems! Of course I had to leave things on a cliffhanger, but I have quite a few ideas for what happens next! This chapter was a lot of fun to write, I have to admit, as I finally got to write a kiss between Violet and Olaf – a long time coming, I think, considering the constant tumult and stress between the two. And I did not see things turning out the way they did at the end of this chapter until just when I was writing the last section of this and thought, "Hmm, what if…" and ran with it. Stay tuned to find out what happens next – and don't forget to review! Your comments keep my fingers typing!

Cheers,

Katrina