London, Day 2
"Who the devil do you think you are, wandering into my house?!" Mister Osbourne snarled.
"Oh, forgive my intrusion. I was led to believe this was an establishment where one could learn. Manners, I mean," Edwin Barnes simpered, "Am I not correct? Or am I witnessing a young miss Scarlet visiting a needful old man unaccompanied for…? Oh, scandal."
Before mister Osbourne's growl could leave his throat, Remilia purred, "Ah, the perceptive mister Barnes, you had the right of it the first time. I'm a little… shaky, with how things are said and done in western Europe, so here I am, to take lessons! I must apologise for any upset I may have provoked back at the circus, my maid – your maid – told me my tone was a little sharp. Please, know that I am sorry."
Edwin Barnes' hawkish smile faltered for a moment. "Upset? Certainly not," He said, his tone waspish.
Remilia allowed herself to smile smugly for all of a second before her words flowed on.
"I'm ever so glad," She rushed out, "and speaking of upset, your maid, she grew faint last evening."
"Oh, she'll put those on. My advice is to ignore those – she's playing it up or she's utterly lacking in vitality. It does neither of you a service to entertain her deceit or her tardiness. Mind you, whilst this has been a novelty – persisting without my maid – I think this trial period has come to an end-"
"But it's not even been a week, mister Barnes, I thought you a man of your word?" Remilia asked.
Edwin Barnes shook his head, his blank smile giving nothing away. "Now, you did rather catch me off guard when you suggested that-"
"It doesn't matter! I'm sorry if I caught you at a bad moment, but you agreed!" Remilia protested.
"Well, that's too damn bad, miss Scarlet," Edwin Barnes said testily, "You'll have her for the rest of today so you can secure yourself a guide or a bodyguard, but without any kind of recompense-"
"Mister Barnes, was it?" Mister Osbourne asked.
Edwin Barnes' smile grew wider as he redirected his gaze to the tutor, the prey animal. "Yes?" He asked.
Mister Osbourne raised one of his hands to pat the coat pocket at his chest before his fingers slipped in, fishing out the envelope Remilia had given him, his eyes hard as he wagged it sharply.
"One hundred pounds." Mister Osbourne gave the envelope to Remilia, who in turn presented the envelope to mister Edwin Barnes. He initially made to wave it away.
"I will not rob an independent tutor-"
Mister Osbourne interrupted.
"Please," the tutor declared with an appraising eye and a furrowed brow, "I would not be able to accept Remilia Scarlet as my pupil if she cannot deal with others fairly and cover their costs in a prompt manner."
Remilia stood before Edwin Barnes, offering him a sickly sweet smile along with the envelope. "Just for the rest of the week. It would be a peculiar move not to take this offer," She pointed out.
He was trapped. He could not have the tool that was his maid returned to him without drawing suspicion on himself. He couldn't kill Remilia and the human – the last time he had resorted to such direct tactics they'd had to flee France, and his sister had promised him punishment if he drew the attention of the authorities down on them again. If he was still truly human, perhaps he might know the thing to do, the platitude to say to hold onto the maid without making a scene.
With frustration threatening to consume it, the creature let the façade slip for a split second to reveal the void to the vampire princess.
The thing that wore Edwin Barnes stared down at her, its pupils tightening to pinpricks as the flesh let out a nervous laugh. He had learnt that, at least. The laugh. The face-saving, go-to reaction of all humans.
The borrowed face chuckled as the deep set eyes burned with rage.
Remilia lifted her chin – as though she was daring him to strike – and smiled sweetly.
And it reined itself in. It was Edwin Barnes again.
"You've backed me into a corner, my dear Remilia! Fine, I will take your money, and be thankful for it!" He declared in a voice caught between a growl and a laugh.
"I do apologise for taking so long to pay you." Remilia said, not meaning a word.
"For the maid? Say, where is she?" Edwin Barnes sighed exhaustively.
Wrongfooted, Remilia answered, "I thought I'd give her the day off. She seemed exhausted."
By the narrowing of his eyes, Remilia felt she'd said something wrong.
"Oh, is she trying that on again? Careful now, young Remilia, she's a workshy at heart."
"Mmm," Remilia sounded, "I will take your words into consideration."
Mr Osbourne said nothing, despite it being his own home. It was only a rake of a gentleman with a creased and expressive face and a young lady he had promised to tutor. There was a tension between them, that was undeniable-
but this was a moment he felt powerless to cut in on.
Edwin's hand blurred up. Mr Osbourne flinched.
Remilia stood firm as Edwin tore the envelope from her grasp. "Well, seeing as I have compensation, I'll be going now. Do be swift in securing protection, miss Scarlet; there are a lot of bad people round your neck of the woods."
Remilia's wit failed her, far too involved in watching the once-man for any sudden moves.
Edwin Barnes turned and rushed out of Mr Osbourne's house.
At his departure, Remilia's shoulders sagged.
"What was that?" Mister Osbourne's voice suddenly reflected his advanced years. It was a haunted, fragile whisper of a thing.
Remilia didn't have an answer for him.
Edwin Barnes' fists were balled as he returned to the Chateau Obscurum. It wore the number and name of 14 Adler Street, its black walls painted over a creamy alabaster white, its barred windows curtained to conceal the opulent interior. The house had flaunted itself in France, to survive today in England it would embrace the art of subtlety.
He approached the great black doors, its iron glittering with inlaid slivers of adamantine.
"Open for me, old friend," Edwin said in a casual tone.
Prosechtikos stirred, the long, almond shapes in the ironwork opening into cold, ebon eyes.
"You are without your maid, 'master Barnes'," The doors noted.
"And you are without your titanic charge," Edwin replied coolly before lifting his chin, "Open up."
The black eyes stared back at him before the metal eyelids slid shut. With a heavy thud, the doors opened.
"Summon the others," Edwin said as he walked between the great doors.
"Even mistress Jill?" Prosechtikos groaned.
"Yes, her too," Edwin hissed testily before stalking on inside, the faded, flaking wallpaper blowing as he stormed past it, "Now gather them."
Jill. His 'sister'. She would be displeased.
He moved through the banquet hall, glancing over at the empty chairs and the spotless grand table, a thrill rippling through his borrowed flesh at the thought of the entertainment ahead.
He walked on through the hall of memories – a corridor with a long, mauve carpet, its walls bedecked with paintings of elegant men and women in the prime of their lives, those paintings in turn framed by tendrilled black veins that seemed woven into the walls.
His spirits lifted when his eyes darted from picture to picture, each one a reminder, each subject seeming to look back before averting their eyes from him.
His mood dampened when he saw the woman in the ocean blue dress watching him from a painting of the lovers of 1850.
"Morgen," He'd say, a warning hardening his tone.
The woman in the blue dress began to smile.
"Sharp as ever, 'master Barnes'," She would say, already rounding the inanimate young hopefuls to enter the foreground.
"Would you give me a hand?" She asked.
Edwin Barnes stared stiffly at her before approaching the painting and offering his arm. Morgen reached out, her fingers breaking the surface of the painting as though it were water. Edwin took them roughly, pulling her down. Morgen's laugh was a vibrant, lively sound as she leant into him, her feet touching down on the carpet.
"My, ever so violent, master Barnes…" Morgen cooed, her pale face framed by the rivers of her dark hair, "may I be so bold as to suggest you save your strength for our special night?"
Barnes thrusted her back, but her feet slid across the carpet, her hands still grasping his.
"There may be a need for violence soon enough, siren," He warned her.
"Mmm…" Morgen would relinquish her grip on Edwin's hand. Only when she inclined her head would he go on, "Someone displays an interest in me."
"Oh, an untoward interest?" Morgen would ask as she followed him towards the doors that led into the inner sanctum, paying no heed to the dampening stains that hung beneath the eyes of the lovers.
Edwin did not elaborate. Instead, he waited until they had opened the doors. It was a place where no guest was permitted to enter, and for very good reason.
The walls of this place were carved and hacked from the very stuff of reality. Cut and gouged and then polished unevenly into a raw, bruise-purple cavern, the nerves exposed to the hostile cold, the inky blackness of the cosmos running beneath the clotted surface.
It was an impossible wound made in the air, in space, in the fabric that made up this world. It was a place of wrongness, of violation.
To Edwin and his cabal, this place was home.
That same cabal sat around the great table. Sergei sat hunched in his chair, his posture enough to tell Edwin that the Lady sat upon his shoulders, listening carefully.
To the russian's left sat Alhajin. His skin had been blackened by fire long ago, his eyes flooding yellow light as he stroked his forked beard.
The beast Edwin liked to call his pet lurked beneath the tables, hands grasping, legs shuddering.
And last but not least – never, ever least – was his sister Jill. Though she sat in her short-skirted mourning gown with her chin pointed away from him, the single eye that saw him bored a hole in him. She must know already what he would say, damn her.
"We have seemingly attracted foreign attention," Edwin started.
"No," Sounded Morgen, her grin replaced with an immature pout.
"Not from France, the witch-hunters or any other such authority," Edwin soothed, "But a young girl; Remilia Scarlet."
"A young girl?" Alhajin's voice yawned like the bellows of a forge. "A human girl? Wish it so, and I will kill her."
Edwin liked Alhajin. The Arabic accent, the stretching of vowels, the rolling of r's… and his utter subservience to Edwin and his sister made him a pleasure to speak with.
Though he spoke far too plainly for Edwin's tastes.
"Oh, that's hardly necessary. I've a mind to invite her to this estate, see if we can sate her curiosity quietly."
"Two girls instead of one? Oh, how exciting!" Morgen clapped her hands together.
"The Scarlet heretic… not so easy." The Russian said.
"What makes you say that?" Edwin found himself asking.
"She has servants-"
"Oh, no!" Morgen sneered.
"Servants that are strong. Servants with dark magics at their beck and call." Sergei said reproachfully.
"What's more, I believe these servants are talking to our dog. Trying to eke out a confession, an explanation, I don't know what." Edwin sighed.
"How do you know that?" Jill asked.
"She was not present," Edwin forced himself to look Jill in the eye, "and Remilia told me that she was unwell. They're trying to break it. Aren't they, Alhajin?"
Both siblings looked towards the demon who furrowed his brow.
"I do not sense any attempt at intrusion, master. If you wish it, I can make certain-"
"Thank you, no," Edwin would breathe out. He'd spent most of the wishes owed to him already. He would need that last wish.
Alhajin bowed his head, though Edwin couldn't help but detect a knowing little smile pulling at the eastern demon's mouth.
"So why is the dog with them and not here with us?" Jill asked, her voice a touch higher.
Edwin faltered.
She turned to regard the others. "It matters not," She lied, "let us focus on finding out all we can about Remilia Scarlet's servants, so that we can dismantle her household should we need to. Morgen, go and help the Lady Midday and her Russian. Discover how many staff they have, any weaknesses we can exploit. If we do this," She'd look Edwin's way, "We cannot afford mistakes.
Now get out. All of you."
The cabal obeyed the girl that claimed to be Edwin's sister. The creature beneath the table shuddered violently as though locked in place. Morgen threw an unimpressed glance to Edwin before she turned and left. Edwin himself made to leave.
"No, you stay," Jill stated.
Edwin looked back and saw that Jill was staring directly at him now.
Soon, they were alone. Far too quickly, Jill closed the distance, her long, wolfish face scant inches from his.
"It can't be like last time, can it?" Jill asked.
Edwin said nothing.
"We must be secret and careful and oh so subtle..." Jill went on.
"Yes," Edwin managed.
"Good, good… I couldn't bear to lose you, 'brother'," She whispered, her smile trying its hand at being sweet.
"No," Edwin agreed.
"We don't need to kill her, you know," Jill ventured, "We both know your imagination is overactive. She may just be a rude little brat, she may have nothing."
"She wants my maid-" Edwin managed.
"Shush. The maid does not matter. We can always, always get a new one after we've disposed of the old. Besides, you spent a full-blown wish on her silence, didn't you? Didn't you, Jack-"
"Don't…" Edwin felt the hunger grow.
"Renée of Caen, would you prefer? Or John Stable, perhaps? Leonardo? George Sable? George Smith-"
"Stop it!" Edwin grated, feeling himself stretch as she rattled off the list of names, made him relive past exploits, getting closer to his real name, his true name…
He realised he had his hands around her throat.
"Is this what it takes?" Jill would ask, her voice rising a little.
She was smiling as she leant in.
Edwin felt his fingers grip her neck, her grin turning lascivious in response to the mounting pressure. He wanted to stop her talking. He wanted her praise. He wanted to not disappoint her. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to feel it again.
But with her, it would be an empty thing, counterfeit. His fingers relaxed, the dark hunger growling beneath his fragile skin, the need yawning within the very core of him.
He knew he could destroy her. He knew, he knew! He had this power!
But why was she still smiling?!
His fingers eased. She sucked in a breath.
And she kept smiling.
"Know that if that's what it takes, instead of these messy games of yours…" She straightened, her suggestive expression cooling as she left their sanctum.
Edwin watched her walk out into the relative light of the hall of memories, keeping the shell that was his human body perfectly still as his ascended, darkling soul quivered. He feared and lived for the day when he could put her behind him, once and for all.
"So, how did your first lesson go, big sis?"
For a moment, the scarlet devil – who was clad in a heavy white chemise made sometime during the renaissance – stopped looking down at the white and red chess pieces set between herself and her little sister, throwing a questioning glance up to Sakuya. The fireplace crackled, filling the silence.
"You told her, did you?" Remilia asked the maid.
"I- well, yes." Sakuya managed, her expression like stone as she tried not to flinch from what might come next.
Remilia surprised her by giving little more than a shrug and resuming conversation. "I think we broke new ground, him and I. He's kinder than he seems."
"That's good." Flandre said with a nervous smile before she stared back down at the board, her legs idly kicking beneath the table. Everything Flandre did was nervous, Sakuya observed.
Even as she wondered about what was going on in the girl's head, her eyes were drawn to the long brown bones that branched from Flandre's shoulders and the multi-coloured crystals that seemed to sway with them.
"Will you tell me about your day, Flan?" Remilia asked, an idea hatching.
"Oh. Umm! Sakuya asked if I'd like to help her cook!" Flan's face lit up, blithely moving a pawn forward.
"What." Remilia spat out the word, her concern at the thought of Flandre hurting herself in the kitchen overriding her excitement to try her latest trick.
"Cookies!" Flan answered.
"No, I mean-" For a second, it was as though Remilia ceased to function, shaking her head as her wide eyes looked for someone to aid her.
But none of the regular residents of the house were in the dusty and dimly-lit study. She was trapped with her little sister and the newcomer. But! She could still demonstrate her new parroting technique.
"You helped her cook?" Remilia asked, lifting her voice as Mr Osbourne had done.
"Yeah," Flan said.
Remilia waited expectantly for the trick to work.
"Yes?" Flandre asked, suddenly red faced, thinking she'd not spoken properly.
"…Huh," Remilia's voice slipped out. Mister Osbourne had made it seem so easy, before…
She'd have to press on. "Yes?" Remilia repeated.
The study's clock audibly ticked on by.
"Big sister's being weird," Flandre said aloud, craning to look back at Sakuya.
"Big sister's being weird?" Remilia said, hiding her irritation before abandoning that prompt and saying again, "You helped Sakuya cook?"
"Yeah." Flan said.
For a moment, Remilia contemplated snarling her frustration out and going back to Avalon lane to get her money back, but then she saw Sakuya pushing her own mouth up into a smile before indicating her own raised eyebrows, demonstrating an encouraging grin.
Remilia emulated her with all the self-restraint given to an immature and suddenly very nervous vampire.
Flandre burst out laughing at the manic expression, whilst Sakuya politely looked away.
"Yeah, we made cookies!" Flandre cackled, "Silly sister…"
For an instant, Remilia looked as though she would rage at her little sister – but when Sakuya discreetly gave her a thumbs-up, she realised the technique was working.
"Cookies?" Remilia asked, her brow furrowing but her mad smile remaining.
She didn't enjoy being laughed at – but to hear her little sister laugh the way she did made it worth it.
"Mmhmm. Bleargh," Flandre wiped her eyes as she got over her tearful laughter, "Chocolate chip. Sakuya was going to put fruit in it, but I stopped her."
"She did," Sakuya added.
"I see…" Remilia murmured, a little caught up. What part of the phrase was she to mimic now? 'Why fruit, Sakuya?' 'What kind of fruit?' 'Fussy Flan won't eat fruit?'
"Fruit?!" Remilia demanded with an almost crazed expression. Flandre laughed at the absurdity, whilst Sakuya giggled.
Remilia felt especially good when she caught the maid beaming at them both.
Remilia won the first game, and the one after that. Flandre started to lose some of her spirit, even as Remilia tried to teach her how to play well.
In her periphery, she saw Sakuya straighten impossibly quickly, her concerned, pursed lips replaced with a self-satisfied smile.
Before Remilia could mention it, she felt paper crumble beneath her resting hand. She looked down, her hand naturally shielding a note that had magically appeared there.
LET HER WIN.
"Huh," Remilia sounded.
"It's your turn," Flandre murmured.
"…Yes, so it is," Remilia said, "Thank you, Flandre." She said, throwing a curious glance at the human maid – who simply stood to one side, seen but not heard.
Halfway through the third game, Remilia found herself threatening two of Flandre's pieces.
"Flan, I could take your pieces." Remilia cautioned. Flan looked to her, then back at the chessboard. Recognition turned to frustration as she realised what Remilia had done.
"When did that happen?" Flan asked dejectedly.
"You can save one of your pieces, but not both," Remilia told her, leaning on an elbow, "pawn, or rook?"
Flan looked over the crisis. Her big sister wasn't making it up. Remilia's white knight was ready to jump onto her red pieces. For a few seconds she deliberated before finally and decisively saying, "Pawn!"
She started to move it out of danger.
"Ah- no, the rook!" Remilia protested excitedly.
"Why?!" Flan yelled.
"Because the rook can do more! It can move four directions as far as it'd like! The pawn's a foot soldier that can only move forward!" Remilia explained – louder than she had to.
"They're my pieces, I can save who I want!" Flan said hotly.
"But the pawn is worse! In every way-" Remilia started.
"If the pawn makes it to the opposite board edge, it can become another piece entirely," Patchouli's voice woodenly stated, the rest of her purple-clad body silently floating into the study.
"Come now, you made that up," Remilia said archly.
"Not at all. Sakuya, are you familiar with the game?" Patchouli asked, her purple eyes framed by her purple hair.
"Yes. Yes," Sakuya hadn't expected to be addressed directly, "Miss Patchouli speaks the truth. It's known as promotion."
"Of course," Patchouli would say as her eyes narrowed on the maid, "It'd be a foolish gambit to rely on a pawn lasting long in the enemy's formation."
Sakuya felt her heartbeat skip at the implication. "Quite so," She'd reply.
"But don't let that discourage you, little sister," Remilia said, unaware of the maid and the magician's exchange, "Because imagine the opportunities that creates! It's dangerous to fight an enemy headlong, but if you hit them from the side or from within, where they're vulnerable, they'll wilt and be ground beneath your boot!" Remilia promised.
Patchouli would sigh. "Might we not talk of battle? Flandre should be in bed."
"But it's night-time!" Flandre exclaimed, already looking upset.
"Yes, but your elder sister is talking to a human in the day-time. She's adjusting her sleeping rhythm, and if you want to be up the same time as her, you'll have to adapt."
Flandre huffed, not really listening. She didn't like to be told 'no', no matter how justified the refusal was.
Meanwhile, Remilia read the mood her oldest friend was in. "Flan, if you go to bed now, you and I will be able to play chess tomorrow."
"Can we play other games?" Flan asked warily.
The question put Remilia on high alert as well. "So long as they aren't too… energetic, sure." She replied.
Flan pouted all the same. "G'night big sister."
"Good night-" Remilia would say, looking to Sakuya- but as the maid moved to obey, Patchouli interrupted the proceedings.
"Koakuma, if you could put Flandre to her bed?" Patchouli asked curtly.
"R-right away, mistress!" Koakuma fussed into the room, followed by Meiling.
Remilia felt a frown forming. "Patchouli-"
Patchouli cut her off again, "I would like to speak alone with you, mistress Scarlet."
So formal. This was serious. Remilia held her tongue.
"Meiling, if you could escort Sakuya to her room?" Patchouli asked as Koakuma hesitantly walked Flandre out.
"Yes, miss Patchouli," Meiling said good-naturedly, her easy smile turning on Sakuya. The Chinese gatekeeper indicated that she should follow with a nod of her head.
"Sakuya, in your room you'll find your new clothes," Remilia said, slowing Sakuya's gait, "Garb yourself and await my summons."
Bemused, Sakuya nodded before she was led away.
Patchouli followed them to the door of the study, closing it before seating herself across from Remilia. "Mistress-"
"Where did this even come from?" Remilia asked, lifting the note that had miraculously appeared beneath her hand.
"Who knows? What I do know is that that maid," Patchouli raised one of her hands with a visible effort, "there is more to her than meets the eye."
"Will Patchy explain to me what she sees, or is she gonna make me guess?" Remilia asked with a grin.
Patchouli's half-lidded eyes stared Remilia down. The witch reached within the folds of her magician's robes, retrieving a cloth doll. It had been styled to wear a maid's headdress, silver thread sprouting from the head in uneven clumps.
The neck of the poppet was crushed, as though clutched in a fist.
"Very cute," Remilia cooed, "Neck's a little thin, though."
"I'll let Koakuma know you said that, but notice here, the constriction? The human has been enslaved, chained by a djinn and given to another."
"Boo," Remilia pouted, settling into her chair as she looked at the poppet, "So Edwin Barnes met a genie?"
"That… or a less comfortable possibility is that he has one on retainer," Patchouli murmured.
"What does that mean, Patchy?" Remilia asked plainly.
"A djinn's wish can do as much good or damage as I can do given a week's preparation and the stores of the scarlet library in a single instant."
That caught Remilia's attention. "That's… significant," She conceded.
"If Edwin Barnes becomes an enemy, he could do spectacular damage to us," Patchouli stated dully before going on, "So please, forgive me for asking – but why do you want this human? She seems more trouble than she's worth," Patchouli said.
"She interests me." Remilia said dismissively.
"Please elaborate?" Patchouli asked.
The witch's insistence took Remilia by surprise. The vampire put a finger to her own chin as she thought about her answer, a wistful smile pulling at her mouth as she recalled their meeting in that anonymous noble's courtyard.
"She told me she'd put slugs in Lady Olivia's soup."
Patchouli blinked. "I'm…" She thought back, a smile creasing her face. Now she recalled, she had watched the maid comfort Remi through the looking glass.
Patchouli shook her head as Remilia giggled.
"Ahh… Not the answer I was expecting," Patchouli admitted, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
Remilia enjoyed the magician's smile a moment longer before she sighed, her eyes lowering to the chess board. If things went badly, she would be locking horns with a being who was immune to fate manipulation and spyglasses, who had a djinn at his beck and call.
It would be foolish not to prepare for war.
"Can I rely on you and Meiling to keep the mansion well protected?" Remilia asked.
Patchouli took her cue, getting to her feet. "You want me to prepare the mansion for a hasty getaway and augment the countermeasures?"
"I figured you could use a challenge," Remilia said.
"A challenge," Patchouli did not have the energy to properly scoff. She bowed her head. "Consider it done."
Patchouli went on to walk out of the study, her fingers drumming on the book she held to her chest, whilst Remilia idly marched a white pawn to the opposite end of the board, letting it topple before she picked up a red knight. She examined the scarlet chess piece, the firelight painting it gold.
Sakuya was used to the ankle-length, dull-black and off-white dress-and-apron combination normally afforded to maids of her station. It was matronly, unobtrusive, conventional.
The uniform lying on her guest room bed was anything but. The collar had a red trim that was bridged by a green ribbon, the rest of the outfit a deep blue and clean white – and the length of it stopped before the knee.
She could already hear the people's judgements, calling such attire wildly improper, and her a tart.
If Sakuya had to describe it in a word, she'd call it 'fun'.
She haltingly set to donning it, wanting to be ready when her mistress called for her presence.
When Sakuya was called, Remilia would be waiting for her in the Scarlet Devil Mansion's family room. It was a spacious room, the carpets a red velvet, the couches, display cabinets and dressers either cream white or solid black, all of those colours and shades obscured by the thin film of dust that seemed to permeate every other room in the mansion. The maroon curtains were closed, the room barely lit in the dimming glow of the room's lights.
She heard the mistress before she saw her, the laboured hiss making Sakuya freeze for a moment. She saw the fangs in the darkness, the open mouth, and felt fear scrape down her back.
Then Remilia finished her yawn, a hand going to rub her eyes.
"Mmm. Patchouli told me I'd develop a sleep debt, with these odd hours..." She murmured absently.
Those fangs… Sakuya forced herself to calm down. "I am here, miss Scarlet," She said.
"Yes you are," Remilia replied, her sleepy eyes registering the maid, "Because I have questions to put to you."
Sakuya felt her anxiety return. "I shall answer if I am able," She said.
"In return," Remilia decided, "You will get to ask questions of your own. We'll take it in turns, say?"
Sakuya blinked, then nodded. "If that is your wish, little miss."
Remilia stared at her, and the maid couldn't decide if she was scrutinising her or if she was simply sleepy.
"That silver pocket watch…" Remilia said.
Sakuya froze.
"Ah, there it is. You shrivel, just as you had at the circus," Remilia pointed out.
"I'm sorry, mistress," Sakuya whispered, "But I'm not hearing a question,"
"Mmm. What is its significance? When Barnes flouted it, you were most interested in it," Remilia stated.
"Do you mean 'flaunt', mistress?" Sakuya asked.
That wiped the smirk from Remilia's face, her red eyes brightening in the darkness. Sakuya stood there, staring down that angry gaze before she heard Remilia speak again.
"Maybe. Now, tell me about this watch. Did your parents leave it with you? Does it hold power over you? Is that the trinket that allowed you to place the note with me?" Remilia asked rapidly.
"Does it matter?" Sakuya asked irritably, feeling her heart-rate spike as she spoke so impertinently to her mistress.
The red eyes silently gazed up at her. Then those shiny teeth were revealed within a devilish smirk.
"It might. Though I suppose there are better questions to ask. Oh, and Sakuya?"
That broke Sakuya out of the hole she'd shrunk into, her silver eyes widening. "Y-yes, mistress?"
"Just raise your palm if I get to be too… scary. Okay?" Remilia asked.
"A-alright. Shall I get the lights? It's awfully dark-"
"That won't be necessary," Remilia said, "I can see you just fine."
Sakuya swallowed, nodded, and thought about her question. "Are any of you human? Meiling called herself a dragon, and Patchouli, a magician."
"Nope!" Remilia beamed.
"…I see." Sakuya replied, afraid to ask for more information, for their sake and hers.
"What does Edwin Barnes like?" Remilia asked.
"He…" Sakuya mulled over her words carefully, "He enjoys walking at night."
"Mmm, anything else?" Remilia would persist, her eyes growing half-lidded.
Sakuya blinked as her eyes welled up, the mental image of two entwined bodies fighting fiercely burning in her head. "He likes to dance, as well."
"Will he be dancing soon?" Remilia asked.
Sakuya paused.
"Will he be dancing soon?" Remilia repeated.
"Y-yes. Four nights from now, a gala will be held."
"How exciting! I shall attend then, and the two of us shall dance, once and only once!" Remilia decided.
"You mustn't! You can't-" Sakuya started.
"Can't!" Remilia barked a laugh, "Oh, Sakuya, one day…"
Sakuya swallowed, unsure if Remilia had been preparing to voice a promise or a threat.
The smile seemed to grow gentler, the questions turning to warmer subject matter.
"That reminds me. How did I do today, with Flandre, do you feel? You saw what I was trying for?" Remilia asked.
Sakuya didn't mind that she'd missed a turn, answering with enthusiasm.
"Oh, mister Osbourne's parroting? Yes, you did very well. You adapted wonderfully when it didn't initially take." Sakuya told her.
"Excellent," Remilia said softly, her hands gently clapping together in the darkness, "it's a rare thing for me to enjoy a pleasant interaction with Flan, these days."
"I am sorry to hear that," Sakuya admitted. Despite everything, she still questioned what she had been witness to, down in the basement.
The part of her that clung to life feared going back down there again.
"Ah. One problem at a time," Remilia sighed, her toothy grin resurfacing, "The outfit I chose for you, do you like it? Nowhere near as stuffy as your previous attire."
"It- certainly defies today's expectations," Sakuya answered evenly.
"Yeah, you like it," Remilia decided slyly.
Sakuya hesitated before she confirmed it with a nod.
"Good! I can't have my head housemaid dislike her uniform," Remilia said smugly.
Sakuya's expression cooled. "You won't give up on that, will you?" She asked warily.
"Nope!" Remilia declared, "You're doomed to serve me until the end of time. Best accept it."
Sakuya took in a breath. "Alright," She lied.
"I shall sleep now, if I am to attend Mr Osbourne's lessons. Escort me to my chambers," Remilia demanded.
Naturally, Sakuya obeyed. Because she had been trained well with stern words, beatings and promises of worse.
Like most of the rooms in the mansion, It was sizable, lavish – but it was dusty, the sheets unmade and pushed into a coiling bundle on the bed.
"May I straighten your sheets, little miss?" Sakuya asked. She imagined Remilia wanted to sleep soon, not wait for her to make the bed properly.
"You may," Remilia nodded.
Sakuya was diligent, and within a minute she was tucking Remilia in, who cooed at the treatment.
She really was a child. Sakuya tried not to let herself smile.
"Stay," Remilia said as Sakuya turned for the door.
"…Little miss?" Sakuya asked.
"Please, do call me mistress. You may as well get used to saying it." Remilia said matter-of-factly.
Sakuya wished Remilia would stop. The fiction she offered her was a pleasant one, but that was all it was.
She returned to the bedside.
"What are the things that are sticking out of miss Flandre's back?" Sakuya asked.
"Wings," Remilia explained.
"I see. Well, they are very pretty. Might I ask where yours are? You are sisters, yes?" Sakuya asked.
"Patchy put a glamour on them. They're there, you just can't see them. Here, look," Remilia lay on her side facing the maid, lying still, the covers at her back gradually lifting as she demonstrated the span of one of her wings.
"Hey, Sakuya?"
"Littl- Mistress?"
"You believe me?" She asked, "About me and Flan being vampires?"
"I…" Sakuya contemplated her next words carefully, "I've more reason to believe in miracles and monsters than most."
Remilia's wide, trusting eyes searched Sakuya's.
"Patchy warns me that you might try to hurt us. Is that true?" She asked.
Sakuya didn't know what to say. She wouldn't lie to her, but to tell the truth would lead to discovery, agony – and death would not be far behind.
"I don't want to." She managed, feeling her soul strain.
Remilia smiled – and for once, Sakuya saw a hint of nervousness in Remilia's expression. "I know you don't. Promise me one thing?"
Sakuya held her breath. Remilia went on, "If your master bids you dance with me… I won't be mad.
But you will only move against me. Not Flandre, nor the other residents. Am I understood?" Remilia asked, her once warm voice suddenly frigid and without play.
Sakuya realised her mouth was open, looking to it as she nodded. "Yes, mistress."
Remilia exhaled softly, the mood passing. "Good. You are dismissed, Sakuya. Go and sleep. Tomorrow, I plan to explain to mister Osbourne my… condition, in some detail. You shall accompany me and hear what I have to say, if you'd like."
Sakuya bade the mistress good night before she did as she was told, quietly dreading the passage of time and the problems that would follow it.