Note: Meh... Not so proud of this chapter. I don't know. I might rewrite it in the future. But for now, I'll put this up first.
The Breaking
Chapter 11
Like every morning, there was a chill in the air as the day greeted the mansion. Watching the sunlight pierce through glass, Sparrow tied up his hair and glanced at the collar around his neck in the reflection of his mirror. Some parts of the leather had frayed but the red marks on it were still very vivid. The marks on his body, however, had faded no matter how permanent they seemed in the past. But Sparrow could remember every kiss and touch skimming on his skin. He rarely indulged in such memories now. There were more important things to think about.
Swinging the shovel over his shoulder, he left the mansion. He maintained the older graves, cleaning up the area and placing fresh flowers on them. He dug up new graves for two that had fallen to a bandit ambush. One was a guard. One was a bandit. Fortunately, these attacks were not as frequent as it used to be. But they never lessened in its viciousness. He dusted dirt off one of the headstones before moving on to another part of the cemetery.
The town willingly gave the post of gravekeeper to him because for years, the guards had to do the job. No one saw death more than Sparrow had so it was fitting that he handled the dead. He had caused it too many times as well. He moved into the empty cemetery mansion that Victor had given him the deed to. Sparrow fixed the mansion, filing up the broken floorboards and converted the old ruin into a liveable home. He divided the attic into rooms, and the first floor into a dining room of sorts.
He had been trying to make a home. He had to as he was not living alone anymore.
The twins took their mother's exquisite beauty and his sister's kind eyes. They also had a fondness for mystery and secrets just like their mother, Jessica, had. It baffled him how she always knew what he was looking for without him saying a word. Like the way she ran the Box of Secrets, she offered him the very thing he needed for a little trade, only this time she was thanking him for helping the island. He had been sitting by the Knothole Island graves, brooding in the snow when she gave him a proposition. She offered to be the bearer of his children and he agreed. The twins were born on Knothole Island, the boy a few moments after the sister, and ever since, Sparrow had been working to be the best father he could to them. They would be five years old in the winter.
It was not lonely with two energetic children running around with their toy guns and swords but sometimes as Sparrow stared up into the night sky, he thought of the days he had willingly given in to scorching warmth. Life was much different now. But life was good and Sparrow was content. It was peaceful being away from continuous danger. In the past, bloodlust consumed him but now, he had to protect more than destroy. Victor's mansion was actually a perfect place to hide from the living.
Where were Victor and the reanimated Lady Grey?
Wherever they were, he wished them happiness. Victor craved it all his life. Sparrow moved all his books and diagrams into the basement. Most of the books were about Lady Grey and tales of the resurrection machine. The machine stood collecting dust in the corner of the basement as Sparrow read up entries and entries of failed experiments and a despairing love. Victor had been a very lonely man. Staying in the cemetery did not do him well. With the portrait of Lady Grey as his only company, it was no wonder he worshipped her. Sparrow maintained the basement as it was; only occasionally tinkering with the resurrection machine. He wondered what it would be like to reanimate Lucien to ask him about his sister. He had wanted to hurt the man, but now, the anger had disappeared. He understood how devastating it must have been to lose his daughter. Sparrow imagined he would have been just as desperate; he would grasp at anything to get his family back if he lost them again.
After supper, they read together, and then when the children fell asleep, he carried them to their beds and tucked them in. They slept with their weapons of choice by their bed… just like their father. Sparrow returned to the study to tidy up for the night. It was while extinguishing the fires that he heard the sound of men approaching the house.
Just a few footfalls climbing up the steps but suspicious because not many would willingly enter a cemetery when night fell. In the darkness, Sparrow reached for his Daichi and inched to the front door. If they were hostile, the Daichi would take care of them nicely. Quietly too, so as not to wake up the children. Sparrow peered at them from the window. There were three men. Cloaks hid their faces that he could not see their features. Two of them were carrying something long and bulky; it was covered with a sheet of dark cloth that shimmered in the moonlight. The shortest of the three, reached the door first. Before the man could knock, Sparrow had swung the door open and swiftly rested the blade against the man's neck. There was a sharp intake of breath from the man.
"…M..mmaster Sparrow?" the familiar voice left the other's lips and Sparrow froze. It was Alex, only his large eyes had taken a haunted quality. What was the butler doing here?
He pulled the blade away from his former butler, recognising the other two men with him as servants from the Bloodstone mansion. Their faces were ashen and pale and they looked gaunt in the moonlight; they almost seemed fearful as their eyes darted around. They were most definitely not in an amiable mood and this was not a friendly visit. It could be the cemetery. People generally stayed away from Bowerstone Cemetary unless they were dead.
Sparrow beckoned them inside. They lugged the huge oblong box into the hall and placed it onto the floor; their actions were hesitant and jerky. After closing the heavy oak door behind them, Sparrow directed them into the dining room where he poured them some cider. Alex watched him with unchecked nervousness. Sparrow narrowed in on the oblong box they had been carrying as he threw fire onto the newly extinguished logs. He moved forward to remove the sheet that covered the box. Underneath the cloth, which he discovered was satin, was a coffin. Sparrow lifted his eyes to see three pairs of wide eyes staring back at him. The sight of the coffin did not bother him but the men's reactions did. Alex knelt down next to him and parted his lips to speak but only a shaky breath came out. The butler averted his eyes to the coffin. Sparrow noticed the red-rimmed eyes, then. Alex had been crying. This person must have been someone important to him.
Sparrow turned to the coffin and wedged his fingers under the lid.
He lifted the lid.
It was Reaver.
