(A/N) Lines in Italics are the demon face
Edward Mordrake had never heard that word before - perhaps as his knife descended, but never as he turned to look at the woman with red hair, all wrapped in green - both silk and jewels - with a brow raised.
"What's your story?" She asked, her urgency disappearing into curiosity.
"My story? My dear, I am not the one who must tell my story." He said with a scoff. His bluntness hid his surprise, a charade put up to allow himself dignity as he felt his palms begin to sweat.
"The spirits whisper about you like an estranged uncle who makes a mess of Christmas. They don't like you, Edward." She said, stepping to the edge of her bed with caution. "What have you done? Or what has he made you do?"
Her voice was so gentle, like sweetened tea on a winters night by the fire, comforting and alluring in every way.
Her hazel eyes remained on him and he could feel her unsurity through her stare.
"It is the demon who whispers to me that demands these horrible deeds be done, not I." He muttered, giving voice to the turmoil within his mind.
"What is it that you've done?" She asked, creeping forward, urging him to talk as he had done to her.
Edward looked up at her as she reached out to place a hand upon his shoulder and she froze.
"I will not speak of what I've done." He snapped.
'Ignorant girl, I should have her for her idiocy,' the demon hissed in his ear.
"Then something else? Tell me anything, make something up?" Avis suggested with a shrug.
Edward set his eyes on her with confusion, his mind questioning her motives and intent.
"Why?" He asked with suspicion, shifting away from her.
'We do not have all night, there are freaks to interrogate, souls to drag into hell.' It whispered with venom in its words.
"Those things you made me talk about aren't pleasant to remember, and I need something else to think about instead." Her voice trembled as if she realised the insanity of her suggestion as she spoke, but her tongue had no words to salvage her.
Edward felt an ache he hadn't felt in years for the girl, something genuine and painful to endure - sympathy.
Avis looked to the ground, her red locks falling around her face as she teased the handkerchief Edward had given her.
The silence that dwindled between the two made the years spent in Hell seems like mere seconds to Edward.
'Stay quiet, you fool! Don't you dare-'
Edward spoke despite It's demands, "I was a man of noble birth in the nineteenth century," he began, the feeling given as Avis listened attentively was foreign but kept the words rolling off his tongue, "I prided myself on my abilities in music and literature, but no amount of dexterity could make people forget the demon beneath my top hat."
Avis sat on the truck at the base of her bed, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. It confused him that she would listen to what he had to say, but he knew all too well the desire to distract ones mind, so the madness of it seemed less so.
"What did you play?" Avis asked from her seat, a faint smile lingering on her lips as she spoke.
"Piano," Edward answered, finding himself smiling, "Mozart and Beethoven, I used to write my own pieces, too."
"Would you show me?"
Edward raised an eyebrow at her request. "My dear, I hardly think your tent is big enough to somehow hide a piano." He quipped in return.
"No," Avis said with a laugh, "there is absolutely no way I could hide a piano amongst all this junk, but the Big Top has one."
Edward's fingers tensed over his cane at the thought of them dancing across ivory.
"Alright." He agreed.
The piano sat at the edge of the stage, the stained redwood of its exterior glossy and smooth and shone even under the shadow.
Edward grinned as he saw it, the white and black ivory dulled from constant use and the leather cushioned seat worn from that many who had sat there and played a verse.
'This is how you claim souls? Tickling ivory will not kill a freak. unless you intend to strangle her with the internal wires?'
"Quiet-" Edward hissed, earning a concerned glance from the redhead in front of him.
'She'd look quite delectable writhing beneath us as her face turns blue and her life fades-'
Edward jerked away from the vile words of the demon, cringing at the image that presented itself.
"You are repulsive," He muttered angrily.
"Excuse me?" Avis questioned, stopping as she reached the piano and confronting him for his slander.
"My apologies, those words weren't meant for you." Edward said with shame.
Her hazel eyes narrowed for a moment before she turned to the instrument and let out a breath.
"This is it, the old Upright." She announced and Edward stepped forward, treading lightly, and sat on the soft leather.
His hands trembled as they hovered above the keys, his eyes racing over them and chest tightening.
The first note filled the room with sweetness.
Edward's fingers felt stiff as he found the following notes, but he smiled at the sound.
Slowly his joints loosened and his fingertips danced across ivory.
The rise and fall of the harmony had him entranced - he could have forgotten Avis was there, her eyes closed as she listened, smiling all the while.
As he wove the music from the keys Edward felt the burden of his summoning fall away, the voice of the demon silence, and the emptiness of death fill with the sounds of the piano.
Edward could have played all night, but every melody had an end.
It screamed about the sun that would rise within the next few hours, and Avis was asleep on the edge of the stage.
He sighed and ran a gloved hand over the keyboard once more before rising from his seat.
He stood over Avis's sleeping form as she lay curled around herself on the floor. Her red hair sprayed out below her like blood dribbling from her pale skin.
'Kill her! We don't have much time!" It demanded.
Edward shook his head, gaze resting softly upon the girl at his feet. "No, not this one." He refused, "she is not the one."
Edward silently thanked her before stepping away, in need of a soul to end the night.
The closest caravan was small and smelt of sweat. Tension formed in Edward's shoulders as he stepped inside, the pungent odor of the room filled his nose and the crunch of a wrapper beneath his boot filled his ears and made him cringe at the ghastliness of the space.
The small boy who lay in the stretcher beyond the rubbish minefield was thin and pale, his hair tussled and dirty. His snoring was irritable.
"Pathetic. I weep as I look upon his putrid form. Wake him to cease his noise." The other demanded.
"He is just a child, as filthy as he may be, no child is truely repulsive." Edward replied, hushing his voice as he crept forward from the door to look over the young boy.
"It matters not whether he is truly vile or deranged, I see him fit and therefore he might as well be. String him up! We have not the time!"
A slither of sun protruded through the curtains and Edward became aware of how dangerously close his deadline was.
Edward set down his cane. "He'll do." He said coldly, a rope appearing in his hand amongst a flurry of green mist.
Though he hated it, Edward always marveled at the strength death had bestowed upon him. His hands were strong, reliable, and death bringing.
The boy awoke with a yelp as Edward grasped his throat. He squeaked and writhed under the mercy of Edward's strength, thin legs thrashing, toothpick fingers clawing as he was lifted into the air, struggling to draw a breath into his lungs.
The childs breaths becames short, stuttered and desperate as the colour drained from his face and the determination of his thrashing faded.
Peace fell upon the boys face as he died.
"It's all about presentation."It said with amusement.
"You are without nobility." Edward cursed as he tied the noose around the boy's neck , hanging him from the roof like a decoration for the holidays festivities.
"The final touch, Eddie."It gently reminded, never without the malice in its whispering voice.
Edward'a fingers tense, his nails digging into his palm as they moistened with his contempt for what his other side desired.
He reached up to the skinny child's face, grasping his boney chin, and twisted his head around, the crunch of bone breaking and tissue tearing made Edward's empty stomach yearn for food if only to throw it back up.
He walked to his cane, and stood at attention with his hands folded over its carved handle. "We are done." He said, looking upon the hanging corpse with regret.
Chapter 2 playlist Songs:
Edward's piano song: watch?v=3dM2qCCg6GE
'I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions had an echo in so much space' Crazy - Melanie Martinez