Title: The Devil Has Blue Eyes
By: Aina Song
Fandom(s): Gundam Wing
Genre: Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)
Rating: PG-15
Warning(s): Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.
Pairing(s): Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)
Reviews: Yes, please.
Author's Note: (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so without the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.
Teaser: He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…
Chapter Twelve
Quatre got up from the floor and went to the table where Relena was speaking to Dorothy. "Do you mind if I leave now, Relena?" He asked, trying to smile as though nothing was wrong. "I think I'll go to the stable and check on Sandi."
"Of course not," she said, turning as though to seek approval from the solemn-faced blonde woman beside her. "After this last game, the matrons from the orphanage will take the children home. I think we can handle everything until then, don't you, Dorothy?"
"Hai," the woman said curtly. "Go on to your horse… or whatever it is you wish to do. At least you are dressed for that." Her thin lips curled as her eyes wandered disdainfully over his clothes, before she turned away, making a pretense of straightening the table.
Relena looked at Quatre solemnly as she whispered, "You go ahead, Quatre Raberba. Don't mind Dorothy; she's always moody."
He nodded, not wanting to speak for fear of saying something he shouldn't. And that was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Relena Darlian, who was putting in such an effort to be his friend.
He hurried out into the main hallway and on impulse turned toward the kitchen. Suddenly Sally's welcoming smile seemed exactly what he needed. For once she was not working, but was sitting at the table with one of her helpers.
"Well, if it ain't our little Quatre… or should I say Quatre Raberba?" Sally's face held a broad grin. "Come and sit down. Do you have any idea what a ruckus you've caused in this big old castle, young man?"
Quatre smiled wanly, not knowing what to say. But at least whatever Sally had to say, she said plainly and in the open.
The other cook, a young girl not much older than he, rose and poured a cup of tea. The aroma drifted up in a warm, pleasant mist, and Quatre felt comforted. The blond sat across from them and sipped the hot, fragrant brew. "Yes," he muttered. "I'm all too aware of the ruckus, Sally."
"Well, there's no need to look so low, lad," she said with a teasing smile. "It will take time, but everyone will come around. Why, they say Master Khushrenada is practically on air, having his own son back home."
"Yes, so I thought, until…" He glanced across at the girl, who looked discreetly away.
"Oh, we heard about this morning. But don't you concern yourself over that. Master Khushrenada stayed sober longer this time than he has in years. And I think with you here he's going to be just fine."
News certainly traveled fast in the big castle. Quatre wondered what else they had heard. Did they know how rude Dorothy had been, or that Heero and himself always quarreled? He took another sip of tea and pushed himself away from the table.
"In case anyone asks for me, I'm going riding."
"All right, lad," Sally smiled gently. "But be careful out in this weather. Wouldn't want you to get lost your first week here."
Quatre, glimpsing the concern in her eyes, vowed solemnly, "I won't go far."
He left through the kitchen courtyard and into the narrow strip of trees that separated the castle and grounds from the stable. The fog still hung low over the land, causing moisture to cling to the tree limbs and bushes. For a moment Quatre felt he was the only person on earth, isolated and alone in a dark, gloomy forest.
He hurried on to the stable and found Trowa working in one of the stalls.
"Afternoon, Trowa," the blond said, picking up a bridle as he moved past the man through the stable.
He looked up with a smile and a nod. "Afternoon, sir. Come to visit your little filly?"
"I thought I'd take her out for a short ride."
Trowa immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at Quatre. "I-I don't think that's such a good idea. The weather's bad, and-"
"I like riding in dreary weather," the blond told him lightly, as he moved toward the back of the stable. "Besides, I don't plan on being gone long."
"But sir, please… wait!" Trowa put down the pitchfork and came forth. "You saw the black wolf, remember? Maybe you should be careful for a day or two, stay close to the castle. Not that I really believe in the curse, but…"
"But what, Trowa?" Quatre asked, growing impatient with everyone's advice.
"But there must be something to it," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You see, every time that animal appears, something bad happens here at the castle."
"I don't believe in such nonsense. And I'm going for that ride."
Trowa sighed and shook his head. But seeing that Quatre meant what he said, the man turned and went reluctantly back to work. "Mister Yuy will have my head," he muttered as he walked away.
Quatre supposed that was what cemented his decision for him. He wasn't going to let the high-and-mighty Mister Yuy run his life. Besides, he missed Sandi, and when she saw him coming the mare nodded in anticipation, and Quatre knew she missed him too. It was like a greeting from an old friend, and for a moment he forgot the rest of household and the resentments of its old assortment of residents.
He slipped the bridle over Sandi's head, not bothering with a saddle. As he led her past Trowa, the man looked at him and the unsaddled horse in horror.
"I'll be back before you know it," Quatre smiled. He didn't doubt that the man's concern was genuine, but he did find it somewhat amusing.
Sandi was skittish, and as soon as Quatre was on her smooth back she trotted away toward the dirt road. He held her steady, letting her gather speed only gradually. The bad weather obscured the path, and he didn't want to take the chance of her stepping into an unseen hole and injuring herself.
The trees along the roadway were shrouded in the late afternoon mists. There was absolutely no wind, and the limbs stood still and silent, like hundreds of waiting ghosts. He shivered, trying to throw off the sobering effect of such whimsical thoughts, and urged Sandi along until they were past the trees and into the open spaces of the vineyard.
They slowed then, walking easily, Sandi's hoof beats quiet and muffled in the damp mists. But already Quatre was feeling better, just being away from the looks, the constant condemnation of those at the castle.
This was where he's seen the wolf. But that didn't bother him now; he was too intent on the vines and the peace and beauty he felt each time he saw the long, symmetrical rows of greening plants.
Suddenly Sandi stopped. She snorted and began to shake her head.
"What is it, girl?" He bent forward to rub her ears.
She reared suddenly, and Quatre was caught completely off guard. With no saddle to hold him he slid easily down her back and across her haunches to land with a thud on the ground.
Sandi had never thrown him. But the blond could see the fear in her eyes and in the wild tossing of her head. He quickly got to his feet, glancing uneasily about them as he stepped toward the dangling bridle. Sandi shook her head and skittered away from him.
Then Quatre heard it; the low, menacing growl of the wolf. He heard it before he actually saw anything, and it filled him with a dreadful fear. He felt a tingling at the back of his neck as he whirled around.
He saw it then; the wolf was very close, just coming out of the blanket of fog. Its eyes were focused directly on Quatre as it crept slowly forward in a crouched position. The blond could not fight the helplessness that swept over him as he stared into the animal's huge dark eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't think what to do. And all the while the animal crept closer, pausing between steps to glance from Quatre to the frightened mare.
Quatre took a careful step backward, looking toward the few trees near the end of the vineyard for a means of escape. But he knew if he bolted, the wolf would be upon him. Still he had to take a chance; he couldn't just stand helplessly and wait for an attack.
He heard a shrill whistle, and the wolf's head came up. It sniffed at the air and its eyes changed, growing more alert. But it didn't come any closer to Quatre or Sandi. Then, oddly, its tail began to swing back and forth, in an almost friendly manner. Yet Quatre realized the change was not for him, but rather for something or someone past the stream at the foot of the ridge.
What the blond saw there was even more unnerving than the wolf. It looked like a spectre from beyond any world he'd ever known. Quatre was a long way from it, but he could clearly see a mass of long cinnamon hair that gleamed almost red under a rare sliver of sunlight, and skin paler than his own. It wore matted, torn clothes of faded black, giving the illusion of something that had risen from the ground. And even though Quatre sensed it looking at him, he could see no eyes in its waxen face. The blond knew it was the Demon; he was unable to stop a tremor as he waited, expecting some signal that would prompt the wolf to attack.
Instead, he heard a voice which sounded quite normal, and younger than he would have expected. "Shinigami," it shouted. "Come!" It raised one tattered-sleeved arm and motioned the large animal toward itself.
The wolf turned away from Quatre and, with a bound of excitement that sent dirt flying from its paws, flew toward the spectre in the mists.
Quatre watched, fascinated and unable to make himself move, until the wolf reached its master. The Demon placed one hand on the magnificent animal's head and, with a look over its shoulder at Quatre, turned and disappeared into the shadowy forest.
The blond stood for a long while, staring at the spot where the Demon had been. It seemed incredible that the Demon should exist at all, and for a moment he wondered whether the mists and shadows had made him imagine the whole thing.
Sandi came to him at last, nuzzling gently with her warm nose. Of course the Demon was no illusion; Quatre's mare had seen it and the wolf as well. Sandi would never have thrown him if she hadn't been frightened.
He rode back toward the castle, thinking he should probable not tell Trowa about the latest sighting of the wolf. And with a wry grin he wondered what the stableboy might say if he told Trowa he'd actually seen the Demon.
There was not much light left when he trotted Sandi back into the stable. It was still early, but the rain and mists had taken their toll and night was coming early. He needn't have worried about Trowa; the man must have gone in for supper. Quatre dried Sandi and put her into her stall, then brought her a bucket of oats and left her munching contentedly.
All the lights in the castle were on, and Quatre wondered why. Then he noticed that the carriages from the orphanage still stood, empty and waiting, in the driveway. Even before he reached the castle the blond felt a wave of dread. And he knew something was wrong.
Quatre stepped into the fragrant warmth of the kitchen and saw the cooks and servants assembled there, talking softly. "What is it?" He asked anxiously, thinking immediately of Treize. "Has something happened?"
Sally came forward, taking his arm and pulling him off to the side. "Oh, dear boy," she said. "One of the little girls is missing. We've searched the entire castle, but no one can find her."
He felt a deep, wrenching pain grip his heart as he remembered the warning about the Demon. He had dismissed it so easily.
"No," he whispered. "No, not Mariemeia…"
"Why, Mister Quatre," Sally gasped. "How did you know?"
Quatre quickly shook his head, biting at his lip. "Tell me quickly, please. What happened?"
"Well, you know the children were playing hide-and-seek. Afterward, everyone was accounted for except little Mariemeia. Then we began to hear her cries; they sounded all over the castle. But we searched high and low, and still no sign of her. It's terrible… hearing her pathetic little cries and not being able to find her…"
"But how can that be?"
She shook her head, a look of puzzlement on her face. "We thought of the old abandoned wells beneath the castle, but they've been closed off for years. Her cries seemed to be in the very walls; you could hear her everywhere."
"I-I don't understand this," Quatre murmured with a shiver.
"In the main part of the castle especially, the sounds echo all over. No one can actually tell where they're coming from. God help us, but I fear she's dead, and it's only her spirit we hear."
Hearing the words aloud finally shook Quatre into motion. "Nonsense," he snapped, striving to hide his own fear. He turned toward the main part of the castle and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He was determined not to give in to the superstition that seemed to invade the castle like the surrounding fog and mist.
"We'll find her, Sally. If you can still hear her voice, it's because she's alive. And I intend to find her."