We are not in fact dead! So please enjoy this next chapter.
Cross sat in the dark apartment for nearly three hours. Although the chorus had been somewhat alarmed by his entrance into their dressing room, a quick story about a newspaper review and seeing their names in print calmed their indignation quickly enough. Although not their voices, he thought as he recalled the shriek with which one particularly excitable soprano had responded to the fabrication. No, they were really some lovely girls… a few had even made some less than subtle invitations after he had finished the "interview" and casually asked for Maria de Lourde's contact information, but the mysterious and fearless diva had caught his attention and he was certainly not going to miss her for mere skirt. And, against most popular opinion, he felt a responsibility for his duty as well. While many believed that the womanizing exorcist would give up anything for a glass of wine and the promise of indiscretion, he'd come to accept the necessity of abstinence on occasion in order to save mankind from destruction and enslavement at the hands of the Millenium Earl.
Cross had searched the house first, of course, to check for caches of letters or hidden weapons, but came upon nothing more threatening than a well-stocked cellar of spirits. Though tempted, he had left it alone, his gentleman's code of conduct preventing him from stealing anything from a lady. He was sure he could get her to gift him freely anyway, once he had warmed her up properly. As such, there was precious little to do besides get comfortable on the parlor couch and wait for Maria to return. He brought out a book from a coat pocket, a recent treatise on newly discovered species from the Royal Society, and pondered the mysteries of Nature.
Maria returned around two o'clock. Cross had succumbed to his thirst by that time, and was nursing a glass of brandy when she walked in.
"You…" she hissed.
"Surely you were expecting me?"
She frowned.
"I thought you'd follow me to Sherrill's first. But I see you've anticipated me."
He nodded, grinning. "I'm lucky that you did come back. You might have spent the night with your patron. But I assumed you'd be the type to come and go."
She slapped him. "You're trespassing, for one, and second, you have no grounds on which to criticize me for… for…" she spluttered.
"Flirtation?" he suggested, offering her a glass of her own wine.
She snatched it from his hand and took a sip, then downed it in a gulp. She threw the glass back at him. It hit the badge on his coat and shattered.
"Come now, Maria."
"That's Senyora. De Lourdes." Her voice was humming dangerously.
He felt the resonance of her innocence and stood up, a rain of crystal falling from his lap.
"I was trying to be nice." He picked up a shard from the floor and stepped towards her. She stood her ground. "I would prefer that this not become violent." He lazily drew a circle of blood around he cross embedded in her throat. She grimaced.
"Mr. Marian, if you're trying to convince me that you're on the good side, you're failing miserably."
"Good? I never said such a thing. We are, however, the side that is trying to keep you alive, if not necessarily comfortable." She winced as he sliced deeper into her flesh. "We expect you to help us in return, of course, but I think the trade is reasonable, don't you?" She gasped. Her innocence flared green.
In a second Cross had drawn Judgment and shot her through the chest. She stumbled backwards and landed hard on the floor. She lay splayed out amidst her petticoats, her head tilted back at a dangerous angle. Cross was afraid that he'd perhaps overestimated her ability, and had done her real harm. Her body started to convulse. He put Judgement away and decided that he should probably call the case closed. He needed to get out of there before he was tried for murder.
Just as he turned his back, he heard a faint wheezing. She twitched a few more times on the floor, and then she sat up to face him. Tears of laughter streamed down her face and mingled with the blood dripping down her chest, where a massive bruise was beginning to form.
"Well done, Sir," she croaked, still laughing, "I've been through entire battles without such a scratch. Well done."
Standing up shakily, she asked, "So is that the sort of thing they teach you at the Black order? Such power. Alright then, Mr. Marian. I'll tell you my whole bloody life story."
Cross knelt down to where she sat on the floor. Bruised, battered, bloody, but laughing, he had never seen such a beautiful woman. He kissed the nape of her neck, and then smiled at her, his lips bright with blood. "That's more like it."
Maria was not the only one who had someone waiting for her to arrive home that night. Well, clearly Sherrill's butler was still up, awaiting and preparing for his master's return. As well as his kitchen staff, ready with soup, bread and coffe for his post-evening supper. And the maids, who made sure tha his bedding was washed and his bath ready. But that was to be expected, and hardly consequential. Another, rather more unanticipated guest awaited Sherrill as his driver pulled up to the grand townhouse he kept on the outskirts of the city.
"Good evening, Sherrill, my dear boy!" a jolly voice surprised the young man as he was entrusting his hat and coat to the butler at the door. Sherrill hurried at once to the sitting room off of the foyer, where he was met with a familiar face, or rather, the lack of one. It had taken Sherrill several meetings to accustom himself to the tenacity with which the shadows seemed to cling to his master's visage.
"Good evening, Earl," he replied. "What brings you to my humble dwelling tonight?"
"Does a father need an excuse to call on his beloved son?" the Millenium Earl grinned, a disembodied row of flashing teeth beneath his ever-present hat.
"Oh no, of course not," Sherril gushed. "Please, you are always welcome. Would you like something to drink? Coffee?" Sherrill snapped his fingers and waved to the maid hovering at the doorway.
"Just some tea, thank you very much," the Earl said. The two inquired after each other's health and talked about the weather until the maid came back from the kitchens bearing a silver platter and tea set. Pleasanteries were one of Sherrill's favorite pasttimes; he could ramble on about nothing for hours. It was a useful skill, in high society, and it was why the Earl trusted him for this duty above the rest of the 'family.'
"Please enjoy," the girl said, smiling, and Sherril couldn't help but smile back.
"One moment, my dear girl," the Earl said. "Would you be so kind as to fetch some milk as well?"
"Oh!" the maid gasped, and bowed deeply. "Please forgive my incompetence, Senyor Millenium. I'll get it right away." She hurried off in the direction from which she had come, skirts flouncing.
Sherrill smiled again, in spite of himself. Such an adorable and demure little woman. Which was why he had hired her, of course. He turned back to the Earl.
"Still sticking to the English ways, then?" Sherrill asked facetiously. "And you keep telling us to blend in and adapt to local customs…"
"Actually," the Earl broke in, "it is about the English matter that I've come here tonight." He stirred the third lump of sugar into his tea and laid the spoon on the saucer with a soft clink. His air had suddenly changed, the jolliness and frivolity now backed with a threat of menace. "Have you obtained any new information that might help to lead us to the Fourteenth? The opera singer is the best lead we have had, but as you know, her innocence is quite powerful…"
Sherrill smirked, just slightly. He'd always thought it romantic, the impossible love between the Noah and the bearer of that most deadly to him, Innocence… not that he was in love with Maria, no, she was too brash for his taste, but the thought of such achingly beautiful tragedy still appealed to him…
"Which means we must finish with her before the Black Order can interfere," the Earl said insistently, snapping Sherril out of his reverie. "I trust that you are not letting your feelings get in the way of your job, my boy?"
Sherrill smiled. "Of course not. But as for the Black Order, I'm afraid they're already interested. An exorcist showed up this evening at the performance." He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought of the man, whose rather ungentlemanly conversation with Senyora de Lourdes he had heard throught the door of her dressing room. "He seemed to take a special interest in our prima donna. However…" Sherrill paused for dramatic effect, but the Earl showed no sign of perturbation or interest. "However, I am hopeful that with an exorcist around, Senyora de Lourdes might attempt to seek out the family with whom she studied while in England, either to flee the clutches of the order or tell them of her intent to join them, or, if our suspicions are correct, to perhaps gather more information about the identity of the Fourteenth. A family with one natural and one adopted son, whose name, as I have discovered…" Sherrill paused again, and this time there seemed to be a hint of glee in the way his master set down his teacup and diverted his full attention to Sherrill's speech. "…is Walker."
Author's notes: Tantalizing, I hope. The next chapter should be more explanatory. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! All comments are very much appreciated.