Chapter 16

The first thing he noticed was the scares and blood on her face, along with the faint hues of purple and blue making their way to the surface around her right eye and jaw line. Elizabeth took several meek steps into the room and looked dazedly around, trying to gain her bearings. What happened to her? He reluctantly looked away from his wife and, he hoped, at someone who could offer some sort of explanation.

Caroline? His brow furrowed in confusion for only a moment before he met her yellow eyes and saw the dagger she held to his wife's back. Realization dawned.

"You're undead," he stated.

She threw him a mock kiss as she led Elizabeth further into the room. She led them both to the opposite end near the piano and ordered her to kneel. He heard his wife moan in agony after Caroline slapped her across the face for not willingly go to her knees. Darcy screamed in protest as she began bringing her blade dangerously close to Elizabeth's neck. That's when the bloody hand-printed Horsemen rushed to the other side of the room to aid her. The Horseman grasped Elizabeth's shoulder with one hand and forced her downward. He stood guard over her while Caroline stalked back towards his side of the room.

"How could you do this?" Darcy asked.

"Quite easily, I assure you," she responded.

"Caroline, listen, you know Wickham is controlling you, but you have to try and fight it," Darcy encouraged.

"Fight it?" Caroline questioned. "Why would I want to fight it? He is going to give me everything I want. All my wishes and desires shall be satisfied."

"He's manipulating you," Darcy said. Caroline threw him an irritated glance and he decided to change tactics. "Think of your brother," he added, choosing to appeal to her familial side.

"My brother?" she spat. "Charles never paid Louisa or myself any mind. Especially after he set eyes on Jane. He always knew I fancied you but made every attempt to keep us from forming an attachment. Even at the Meryton Ball he would rather see you dance with some country strumpet than his own sister!"

Darcy recalled that night, as well as all the others in which Caroline practically threw herself at him. Charles was well aware of his distaste for both his sisters, particularly Caroline, and attempted to keep his friend at ease by distancing him from Caroline whenever possible. What Caroline never seemed to understand, however, was that her countenance and overall demeanor were never appealing to him or most of the people in their acquaintance. Furthermore, Charles spent his entire life doing what his sisters expected of him, and her speaking about him, and not to mention Jane, in such a manner made him want to rip her throat out.

He struggled against the confines of the Horsemen, knowing it was a hopeless attempt. He stopped and shot her a poisoned look.

"Oh. Did I hit a soft spot?" Caroline mocked, offering up a smirk before turning her attention back to Elizabeth. "I bet I know where to find another one."

She walked over to Elizabeth and grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking her head back. The Horseman released Elizabeth as Caroline dragged her closer towards the middle of the floor. His wife screamed in agony.

"Stop! Let her go!" Darcy hollered, trying to stand to his feet and save her. A Horseman hit him forcefully on his back and he bellowed over, coughing. He glanced up, his hair falling in front of his eyes, and met Elizabeth's calm face. She offered him a modest smile.

Caroline blocked their contact and knelt down in front of Elizabeth. He could not hear what she was saying, but he was about to plead once more when Caroline was thrown onto her back.

Elizabeth flew on top of her and grasped the blade Caroline had just dropped. In a flash she smirked and stabbed Caroline in the brain. She removed the blade then rounded to take on the Horseman behind her. He made several steps towards her before she jumped into the air, wrapping one leg around his neck and the other under his right arm. With her legs locked in front, she brought her blade down into his skull and he fell forward.

She landed gracefully on her feet, but Darcy did not miss the wince she made when she hit the ground. She was injured. Elizabeth began stalking towards his captors. He had never been so proud of his wife. One of the Horsemen guarding him ran towards his Elizabeth, giving Darcy the upper hand. He escaped from its clutches and slid towards where his katana had been kicked aside earlier.

Standing, he began piercing his katana through the air at the Horseman, occasionally throwing glances in his wife's direction. He had successfully stabbed his opponent through the head when he noticed the horseman had Elizabeth in his clutches, his barred teeth making towards her flesh.

Darcy's eyes widened in horror. He wouldn't make it in time.

"No!" he heard someone yell as they rushed into the room. Darcy gasped as he watched the Horsemen's teeth bear down onto Mr. Bennet's arm instead. There was no way he was loosing another father. Darcy ran over and swiftly beheaded the final Horsemen. He needed to remove the appendage before it had time to spread. Darcy removed his cravat and tied it around his father-in-law's upper arm.

"It's no use, my son," Mr. Bennet said from his place in Elizabeth's arms.

"I have to try!" Darcy responded, glancing hopefully at his wife for support, but was met with only a despairing, tear-stricken face.

"No," Mr. Bennet said again, putting his hand atop Darcy's in an attempt to lower the blade. Darcy resisted the man's attempts, but finally conceded, lowering his blade to the ground. "Promise me you'll take care of my daughters," Mr. Bennet asked after several quiet moments. Elizabeth looked down at her father. Darcy nodded only after meeting his wife's blurry eyes and then looked back at his father-in-law.

"You're like the son I never had," he said with a smile. "Your father would have been mighty proud of you." Darcy fought back his own tears.

"Thank you, sir," he choked out.

"Now, please, go and do what you have to," Mr. Bennet said before turning to face Elizabeth. "I need to talk to my favorite girl."

Darcy kissed the man on the forehead before turning to his wife.

"Stay here," he whispered into her ear before giving her a chaste kiss. She nodded silently as he ran his thumb over cheek to catch some falling tears before he stood.

Walking to a Horseman at the other end of the room, he removed the dagger wedged in their skull, cleaned it, and made for the door. Before leaving, he looked back in time to see his wife fall into her father's open arms, as they both sat there weeping together.

Darcy turned on his heels and closed the door. The house was eerily quiet apart from the battle noises outside, but he tuned them out and instead focused on determining the quickest route to his destination. He knew where Wickham would be: His old bedroom on the upper floors. From there he would be able to see the entire battle below.

Darcy took the stairs two at a time and paused at the landing, taking in a steady breath, trying to control his anger. He needed a clear head and swift movements. Rage would only weigh him down and cause rash decisions. After his brief mediation, he headed up the hallways leading towards Wickham's old quarters. Pausing at the door, he attempted to focus once more. Bringing back the pain he felt when his father had turned and it was required of him to slice him down. The anger he felt when Wickham used his sister. His jealousy for Wickham's initial bond with Elizabeth. His own foolishness for not killing him when he had the first chance. Where would they all have been if he had just killed Wickham that day at Rosings? But he knew more than most that the past cannot be rewritten. His past was his kindling and the fire that shined bright inside of him gave him the power he needed to complete what was to come.

He marched into the room. It was exactly how he had left it- untouched since they were children. Three couches lined the middle of the sitting room, with a lit fireplace along one wall. A card table occupied the other side of the space still held the same chips and deck of cards. The wall opposite the door held four windows, all looking out onto the back of the grounds. Wickham stood by one, his back to him.

"I could have killed you in the woods near the chapel," said Wickham, instinctively knowing who was behind him. "One bullet through the head and you would be done. But this is where it all began." He turned around to face Darcy. "It's proper this should be where it ends as well."

He saw Wickham now had two makeshift arms; one similar to the club and wire one from before and the other held a dagger where his hand once was.

"Yes, it is," Darcy responded. With his katana in hand, he ran the length of the room, bringing his blade up. He jumped over the sofa standing between them and brought his blade down against Wickham's clubbed arm. The force broke it in two, sending pieces of splintered wood to the floor, rendering one arm completely useless.

Wickham raised his other hand and met Darcy blow for blow with his daggered hand. They fought around another sofa until they came to a blank wall that held a painting of two small boys fishing in a pond on the grounds, their backs to the artist, and Pemberley sitting in the distance behind them. Darcy remembered when his father had gifted it to Wickham. Darcy's father had always treated him like a second son, and even had given him his own rooms near Darcy's own personal quarters. When Darcy had returned from training, the two remained close, until Wickham let money, greed and jealousy consume him.

From then on, Darcy distanced himself from Wickham; quietly paying off his gambling and other debts whenever necessary at the risk of his father learning of Wickham's vices. Most of Darcy's time, however, was spent in his dojo or with his sister or Charles during his frequent visits. It wasn't until after his father's death that he dedicated his life to the militia. Seeing the painting now, it reminded of him of what had been. His reality now was quite different from where they had started: Friends to foes. Before him stood not a friend but rather an undead that needed to be slaughtered.

Darcy stopped another one of Wickham's blows and spun around, slicing him in the back of the leg. Wickham growled in frustration and tried to bring his daggered arm around to strike Darcy, but Darcy blocked it with his own blade. He brought his left hand up to Wickham's neck and pushed him back against the wall, locking the undead against it. Wickham made helpless attempts at biting him, but Darcy's grip remained fixed.

Wickham then brought his knee up and swiftly kicked Darcy. He doubled over and Wickham brought his daggered hand downward in a killing strike aimed right at Darcy's head.

At the last minute, Darcy stepped aside and rose up with a smirk, stepping back a few paces.

"I was originally going to turn you," admitted Wickham after he regained his footing, "but right now I would be more satisfied watching you slowly decompose into the earth." Wickham ran towards him, teeth bared, but Darcy was determined. He lifted his blade and severed the daggered arm from Wickham's shoulder. Wickham cried out in agony and stumbled backwards before falling to his knees.

"Any last words?" Darcy asked. After Wickham remained silent, he added, "So be it," before swiftly plunging the entire blade through his undead brain.

Blood leaked from the wound and trickled down his face. Wickham's eyes were locked on his own and he couldn't look away. For many moments he stood there, not believing it was truly over. He had pictured this moment for so long. His enemy was finally dead. His father, sister and Lydia had been avenged. Wickham would hurt no one else, nor could command anything else of the undead. He had done it. Darcy sighed with relief.

The commotion outside brought him back to reality. The undead had not fallen, he realized. He needed to return to Elizabeth. Kicking the undead off his blade, he cleaned it on Wickham's coat, and stood. Turning back towards Wickham's lifeless body, he spoke two more words, and fled the room.