Summary:
Priscilla learns more about the abilities she and Cassandra were granted when they were reborn.
A/N:
I wrote this instead of my manuscript for my book. You're welcome.
DISCLAIMER: Any mental illness depicted may or may not be accurate. I try my best to research symptoms, but I am not an expert and often base things on my own experiences. This is a dark story and as the author I do not agree with all the things the characters do, say, or believe. It will also be very gross - lots of violence, blood, and gore. Mentions of s/assuault will be brought up throughout the story. Trigger warnings are in the tags. You have been warned, read at your own risk.
Priscilla refused to house the children in the nursery. It was far too close to the master bedroom to her liking, which meant far too close to the demon butler who served her nephew. However, her decision would not do much regarding Sebastian's ability to appear wherever, whenever he wished. This only served to make Priscilla feel worse.
Guilt, shame, grief, and now fear.
If she had been stronger none of this would have happened. Sebastian would not be a threat to her children or her nephew. He would not be here to torment her. Ciel would still be—
Priscilla choked back a sob.
The nanny and lady's maid turned wet nurse – Hilde and Anna – were apologetic when Priscilla dismissed the maids to their duties and hurried over to them, attempting to appear unbothered by the sudden and unexpected appearance of her infant children.
Hilde was a tall young woman of one and twenty with yellow-blonde hair, wide brown eyes, a healthy coloring, and a sturdy build. She had not come highly recommended by other noble families due to her overzealous instincts to protect her young charges but that was exactly why Priscilla and Edward had hired her – and had her trained to be proficient in several types of weaponry.
Anna was the opposite of Hilde in looks. She was a small woman of nineteen, plump and round-faced, with carefully oiled curls beneath a lace cap, and shining dark skin. Anna had previously been Priscilla's ladies' maid and the duchess had asked her to be the children's nurse after the poor girl and her husband had lost their infant child weeks prior. She thought bonding with the children would lift her spirits. Anna had swiftly grown fond of them, and Priscilla knew without asking that Anna would give her life for the twin brother and sister.
"They was just cryin' somethin' awful for you, they was, Your Grace," Anna said tearfully, holding out Astrid for Priscilla to take. "They didn't want to eat, changin''em didn't help, nor did rockin' or cuddlin' 'em. I'm so sorry, Your Grace, truly I am."
"We really did try everythin', Ma'am," Hilde added bouncing a now wailing Edward as though her life depended on it. "They seem to jus' want their mum."
That truly seemed to be the case; Edward and Astrid both calmed down once they recognized their mother as being there. Ciel had been displeased, at first, with the arrival of his infant cousins but when Astrid grabbed his small finger in her even smaller hand, he flushed bright pink and begrudgingly accepted their presence. Cassandra, though confused initially as she had not sent for the children as Priscilla requested, was thrilled to see her tiny niece and nephew again.
It was Sebastian's reaction that had Priscilla and her babies holed up in the bedroom she had been forced into when Vince and Frannie decided she and Cassandra were too old to continue sharing a room and bed. The maids had given him startled but curious looks as though they might have recognized him but ultimately moved on to their assigned duties. Anna and Hilde, however, both gasped, and Hilde nearly dropped her mistress' son.
With all the ease of the wind on a summer afternoon, Sebastian swept over the marble chessboard floor and caught Edward before he even dropped a few inches from Hilde's arms. Instead of crying like everyone expected him to do, the infant stared intently up at the demon, then reached up and tugged on the long strands of his hair. Sebastian's answering smile was met with swooning from Anna and Hilde, but Priscilla saw the flash of red and the glint of wickedness in his eyes.
As soon as she could, she had all the children's things in her old bedroom, along with her nephews' old bassinets, and when she had laid Astrid down, she marched straight up to Sebastian and ripped her son from his arms. Edward's face had crumpled instantly and he let out a horrible wail, but Priscilla paid no heed to it. She instead rushed back to her old bedroom and locked the door behind her. Obviously, it would do little to stop a demon, but she felt better for it all the same.
And that was where she sat, cowering in fear, until the sky grew dark and Anna knocked on the door to ask if the children wanted to eat. She only allowed Anna in, then Cassandra who promptly sat Priscilla down and began massaging her shoulders.
"He wouldn't dare hurt them," she said low enough that the wet nurse would not hear. "Our nephew commanded it after you rushed off. You left everyone in a bit of a shock, but once everyone settled in and it was just the three of us, he commanded Sebastian to never lay a finger on them with the intent to harm." Cassandra laughed a little at the memory. "That infernal butler had the cheek to look offended by the suggestion. It's not as if we have a lot of reliable sources to go by when it comes to demons to know if he would want to hurt them or not."
"I'm sure he would, just to irritate me," Priscilla said petulantly.
"What has he done to get under your skin so?" Cassandra asked, putting pressure on a particularly hard knot in her sister's shoulder. "You've been projecting quite a few strong emotions lately, and it woke me up a few times the past few nights."
"You mean besides his intentions to eat our nephew's soul?"
"Well… yes. That is very bad. Not a good situation at all. But I meant personally; has he hurt you?"
Priscilla shook her head. All Sebastian had really hurt was her pride, which she had far too much of, to begin with. And she was too ashamed to even hint at the things he had done to her – at what she had allowed him to do. Because she had allowed it, even if she could have overpowered him, she had allowed it, wanted it, even just a little bit. Her shame over which was too great to speak of.
"That's good at least." Cassandra pressed a kiss to Priscilla's hair. "I am sorry they brought
the children here though. I can stay here if you'd like and you can return to Chatsworth."
Priscilla shook her head. "I cannot leave here. Not yet. We need to get word to Francis – she is the eldest and will have access to Vince's will. We need to know who Ciel's guardians are supposed to be. We need to ensure that there are servants here who will be completely loyal to our nephew – I would like to see Tanaka return as well – and then we need to make sure Ciel will receive an adequate introduction to his earldom."
"I can do… most of that."
"Cassandra, you were never interested in learning to run a household. It was swordplay and horseflesh you cared about."
"Can you blame a woman for liking shiny things and pretty horses?"
"No," Priscilla conceded with a laugh. "But that means I must take on some responsibility here, which requires not stepping on the boy's toes. He is techy. And… Sebastian wishes us to learn to control this… angelic power we have been granted."
"Really?" Cassandra was shocked at that. "What is his reasoning?"
"We will either be a social danger or a physical one to 'his master'."
Cassandra hummed, working up the back of Priscilla's neck and then back down. The tension release was welcome and gratitude welled within her. They had always known what the other needed without saying it, but Cassandra had always been more resilient than Priscilla. She still needed comfort and support, among other things, from her twin but Cassandra was able to bounce back much easier than her sister.
"I suppose," Cassandra said after a beat. "That since greater demons were once angels, Sebastian will be our best bet in assuming control over this power."
"That is if we can trust him," Priscilla said.
"Of course," Cassandra conceded, then kissed her sister's head again and left to prepare for supper.
Anne stood from the armchair she had settled into, gently laying Astrid into the bassinet. Both children had been sated, and Anna glided to her mistress as gracefully as any noblewoman. Her hands were dainty, dimpled at the knuckles as she reached for Priscilla.
The duchess accepted her maid's hands, allowing the shorter woman to pull her from her chair and seat her in front of the vanity. She ignored the light scratches in the wood that had been delicately buffed and painted over. Ignored the newer silver-backed mirror that sat snugly in the frame.
"Shall we ready you for supper, Your Grace?" Anna asked in her high, sweet voice.
Priscilla sighed, slumping as far as her corset would allow. She had to help Sebastian with the meal preparations, she could not allow Anna the several hours she normally took to pamper her before the event.
"If you would, Anna," Priscilla started, making eye contact with her maid in the mirror. "Just pile my hair on top of my head, nothing fashionable if you please, and massage some rose cream into my temples and neck?"
"Your hands too, Your Grace?" Anna asked, perplexed.
"Not now, I must train that butler in the art of cookery. The cook has yet to be replaced and my nephew will trust no one else."
Anna hummed in understanding, a sad, sympathetic expression crossing her round features before she set to work on Priscilla's hair. Soon enough it was pinned up, not a hair out of place and Anna was rubbing the cream into Priscilla's skin. She was far more delicate than Cassandra, and her hands were warmer, soothing the tight muscles of Priscilla's face and scalp.
"I will stay here with the children then," Anna announced when she had finished. "Until you return. Would you like me to sleep on a cot in the corner?"
"Of course not!" Priscilla scoffed, standing from the cushioned stool and straightening her skirts. "You shall sleep in a bed and there will be a bell connected between our rooms, as there is at home. Truly, Anna, do you think I should treat you so abominably after how you have cared for me?"
The maid blushed and ducked her head to hide her smile. "Of course not, Your Grace. Thank you kindly."
"It will not be as fine as your room back home, but it is only temporary," Priscilla promised, striding toward the door.
"Of course, Your Grace," Anna said from behind her.
Priscilla halted with her hand on the doorknob, feeling the raised scar tissue on her hands against the cool crystal, before looking over her shoulder at Anna.
"If anyone besides Hilde or my sister tries to enter…" Priscilla whispered, knowing the maid would hear.
Anna lifted her skirts to reveal the twin pistols strapped to her generous thighs and the throwing knives tucked into her flat-footed boots. "I'll eliminate anyone who dares to even attempt to lay a finger on 'em."
Priscilla shot her maid a bloodthirsty grin, which was returned, before sweeping from the room, black skirts billowing behind her like a grim reaper's tattered cloak. Anna had been an excellent choice for protecting her children, for feeding her children. The matter of race was of no consequence to her – as it had not been to Edward. Anna had killed fifteen men before the age of eighteen for daring to lay a hand on her, or her employers. She had come highly recommended by those she had protected, and Priscilla felt only a little guilty for stealing her away.
Learning of Anna's soft spot for children, well… it had only been too easy. As was securing her loyalty. Anna liked her husband – whom she was allowed to share a room with, something that was relatively uncommon – and she liked pretty things. Most of all, though, Anna liked the shiny set of Enfield Revolvers Priscilla had tempted her with during her interview.
Oh yes. It was very important to win over the loyalty of the servants as soon as one possibly could. Treat them well, give them nice things, and make them love you. Then they will serve you, and only you. Then they will die for you without hesitation. Then they will kill for you without question. It was quite simple, really. Now, if only her servants could get rid of her nephew's butler…
Sebastian was learning quickly in the kitchen, nearly surpassing Priscilla and her cook at Chatsworth House. Soon she would not have to supervise, nor would she have to dirty her hands – unless she wanted to, of course. She did so enjoy baking.
"You are silent this evening," Sebastian said.
Priscilla was putting the finishing touches on the Victoria Sponge she was dusting with a lace of confectioner's sugar, and paused, nearly destroying her template in the process. Carefully, she finished her decoration, placing a handful of strawberry roses in the center of the cake before turning her gaze to the demon next to her.
"There is nothing to say," she replied, lifting a brow.
"I think there is plenty."
"Oh? Then you may voice your thoughts because I have none to share."
Sebastian had the audacity to smirk at her, then brushed sugar from the front of her blouse. She let him, holding his stare with eyes like frozen sapphires. His touch was so casual, so like an intimate friend's or partner's. It was disorienting – it was improper. She wanted to take his sugar-coated fingers in her mouth as she had done with Edward on the night of their wedding when he had snuck her an extra piece of cake.
"I think your son recognized my face," Sebastian murmured, turning his fingers in the electric light.
He stuck the sugar in his mouth, his pink tongue sucking the sweetness from his fingers in an almost obscene way. Priscilla barely stopped herself from making a low sound of want in the back of her throat.
"My son recognized my husband's face, not yours," she snapped, her words strangled.
"Ah," Sebastian grimaced at the taste of the sugar. "And yet you struggle to discern between us. I wonder if is the same for an infant?"
"He only recognized you because you allowed it." Priscilla turned back to the cake, swiping sugar from the plate on which it sat. "The servants barely made any connection between your face and my husband's. You did it to upset me."
"And has it?" Sebastian whispered, now standing very close. "Has it upset you?"
A scream built from Priscilla's toes and all the way up her throat, but she could not 'lease it. If she did, the maids would come running and find Sebastian very incapable of dying for laying his hands upon their mistress, and that would end very badly indeed. She held very still, stayed very silent until she knew she could speak.
She would be in control of her emotions now, not the other way around.
"Of course, it has. Why wouldn't it?" Her tone was even, but her hands shook, betraying her.
"It has more than upset you, my dear Lady," he whispered against the back of her neck.
Her hair stood on end where his breath grazed and she unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shiver. God must be punishing her for something, for there was no way that he brought her back to life only to live in this Hell on Earth with Sebastian as her personal tormentor.
"Won't you tell me why?" the demon implored.
She could feel his lips – his teeth – grazing the back of her neck.
Priscilla wished for death, she longed for it.
With the strength of a man three times her size, Priscilla pushed against the large kitchen table, shoving Sebastian away with her back. She whirled to face him, firelight from the hearth blazing in her eyes and teeth bared like an animal's. He merely studied her with curious interest, fingers to his lips, his elbow resting in his hand.
"You are the most fascinating creature," he said, eyes ravenous.
"And you are the most detestable," Priscilla growled.
She did not like the way those red slit-pupiled eyes roved over her body. He knew her shape personally, but also through her memory – the memories he had stolen. The memories he had plundered. Sebastian did not deserve to know her body so intimately, but Priscilla could not deny the heat that the look he was giving her ignited.
It was not him she was attracted to, truly it was not. It was Edward, the face Sebastian wore. The face she had woken up with so often that it was like her personal sunrise. The ruby flashes which replaced Edward's mahogany irises were enough to remind Priscilla to feel sick – to feel ashamed – with herself for even harboring a modicum of attraction for this deplorable creature.
"Why do you fight it?" Sebastian asked, tilting his head. "I have never met someone who fights the desires of their flesh as much as you, even in the throes of passion as you were the other night."
"I am sure that is not true," Priscilla said, turning to finish her cake.
"I've had nuns lifting their skirts before I could even touch them," he chuckled.
Priscilla froze, and then… a laugh – short, and a little hard – crept from her throat. Had he truly seduced the brides of Christ so easily? Or was he saying this to flatter her, to make her feel strong?
"Their vows must not have meant much to them," was all she replied, moving to place the cake onto a serving tray and covering it with a cloche so it would not dry out.
"I daresay they did not," Sebastian agreed.
"It is altogether unsurprising that a demon cannot control itself and its… appetites," Priscilla continued, attempting to fold napkins into elegant arrangements as she had watched the servants do as a child.
Sebastian appeared at her shoulder, snatching the fabric away from her and folding it expertly. Priscilla watched, green with envy, but made no move to step away. She would be stronger than this temptation.
"My appetites tend to stray towards tormented souls, not the base human need to rut into something repeatedly." Curiously, his tone was almost scathing, as if he looked down upon the pleasures humans sought – the pleasures he exploited.
What he was trying to take advantage of in her.
Now that was something that was going to torment her more then Sebastian wearing her husband's face. Curiosity killed the cat, and all that.
"I hope you don't think me horribly rude," she began out of good breeding and nothing else. "But I thought all demons were prone to debauchery. That is not the case I am to assume then?"
"It is not," Sebastian said, finishing the last of the napkins by placing polished silver rings stamped with the Phantomhive crest around them. "Some demons, lesser creatures with animalistic minds, have such basic desires. But greater demons… we have our own proclivities. Some may enjoy the act of procreation as much as a human, some may avoid it altogether. And we both know some enjoy rape to flavor the souls they will consume."
"Then why don't you?" Priscilla felt the words slip from her mouth before she could stop them.
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, but she did not bring her hand to cover her mouth like she so dearly wished. She would hold fast. Her hand, bare from cooking reached out to take his. The desire to know… she felt as though it would consume her. And when their flesh touched, she was surprised by the warmth of his against her frigid fingers.
Sebastian looked at her, his countenance holding the millennia of his true age. The wrath, the passion, the pride that roiled beneath his skin. Priscilla saw an image of a beautiful and terrible creature with the faces of an unearthly man, a black lion, a raven, and a goat with wings of black – devoid of light. Then she saw a red-eyed being of wheels and wings, the same ruby eyes flashing at her all over its strange body. Next, she saw Sebastian as he was now but also different, heartbreakingly handsome with a crown of laurels in his hair, and a pair of wings tucked dutifully behind him.
Something tugged in her heart then, the flash of that face in aguish, watching as his siblings warred against their creator, but unsure of what to do. Falling from the Heavens, cast to the ground, his black wings attempting to hoist him back up to his creator and shredding in the process, feathers drifting to the Earth as he fell. A primal cry of wrath reached the Throne along with the cries of his fallen siblings.
"Did you choose to fall, or were you forced out?" Priscilla asked, moving closer, her hand now gripping his. "What are you, Sebastian? Why do you eat the souls that belong to your creator? Why don't you defile me and take my soul? Do you need a master? Is free will something you always coveted but could never understand?"
Suddenly, his hand was ripped from hers, his face morphing as quickly as an eldritch monstrosity, Priscilla's still-human mind unable to comprehend the horrors she was seeing – monstrous, then animalistic, then human, then void, then all mixed as one. But those red eyes stayed the same, burning with wrath, flaming with the desire to consume her.
"You know nothing, girl," he snapped, voice like thunder, a despairing nation, and the cry of a corvid.
"Do not call me girl," Priscilla bit back. "I am four and twenty. It may not seem very old to you, but it is as old as I have ever been!"
The demon chuckled darkly, placing his hand to his cheek. His fangs protruded past his lips as he spoke to her, an obvious display of his inhumanity. A smarter woman would have felt fear at the sight. A more prudent woman would have fled. Priscilla had been accused of being intelligent before, but never prudent.
"You are a babe among giants," he said, eyes glinting dangerously.
"And I shall become larger than you still," Priscilla sniffed.
Sebastian laughed then, wicked and long and full. Priscilla colored an unattractive shade of reddish purple, and in another moment where her lack of prudence shone through, she grabbed the demon by his bared hand once again, the other reaching the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to her level.
"I will best you, demon," she hissed into his shocked face.
He stared down at her, his red eyes roving her face. That heat inside her continued to burn, but it was tempered by her rage. Still, he knew it, and a slow smile spread over his wicked mouth.
"Your pride shall be your fall, Your Grace," he murmured, ruinous lips inches from her own.
Cherries and blood and honey.
Priscilla resisted the urge to bite her lip, even as her mouth watered. Even as her body ached to be touched, to be treated to the amorous passions she had once shared with her beloved. She would best her demons. This demon. Her demon.
Wait. That wasn't right.
"My nephew will be expecting his evening meal, Sebastian," she breathed, releasing him. "Take it to him."
"Will you be joining the young master?" Sebastian asked, all polished English politeness now that his form was under control.
"I…" Priscilla thought of her sister and nephew dining together in the formal dining room, the very place Cassandra was nearly murdered. Now that there were more servants in the house, it was not proper to partake in the meal elsewhere, unless it was in one's private rooms. The casual intimacy they had shared for the past few days, as frosty as it had been, was now lost.
"I think that would be best," she answered finally, though the thought of eating in that room turned her stomach.
The Duchess skirted around Sebastian, fearing he would grab her again. Thankfully, he kept his infernal hands to himself, and she made it to the doorway unmolested. However, she turned back to see he was staring after her, a hardness in his expression that she recognized in herself. Whatever form he had fallen in, Priscilla did not know, but she did know he had fallen. And Sebastian did not seem to like that she knew even that much about him. How curious.
"Sebastian," she said, her throat constricting with the onslaught of emotions roiling within her. "I do not think you need any more instruction in the kitchen. I will give you leave to plan meals and prepare them as you like. Just… don't try to poison me; I am afraid it would not work in your favor."
He laughed and began to prepare his service cart to bring the meal to the dining room. Priscilla denied to herself that she appreciated the sound, despite its wickedness.
"I am far too competent to attempt to poison you, Your Grace," he replied smoothly. "Thank you for your gracious condescension in teaching me the finer parts of human cooking. Though, I am afraid nothing compares to the feast that is a well-seasoned soul."
A spider of disgust skittered up Priscilla's spine, but she squared her shoulders and gave the demon a tight-lipped smile. "Do not thank me, teaching you was for my nephew's benefit, not yours."
"But of course."
"And I shall expect you in the gardens after supper."
That seemed to surprise Sebastian because he stood straight up and turned to look at her fully. Priscilla held her chin high, haughty, knowing that at any moment Sebastian could bring her to her knees. Her pride would not allow her to let him at this moment. For now, their ranks in this faux reality they called polite society held her aloft and him below. Noble from conception, Priscilla could handle that. Knew only how to handle such a burden, her holy one so foreign and uncomfortable.
The fact that they were equals, adversaries – though his age and power far surpassed hers – was not something she wanted to think about. So, she would use her rank and he would fall in line, as was his contract with her nephew.
"You said you would teach me to control myself so as not to harm my nephew or his reputation," she said, bristling under his unflinching gaze. "We will start tonight, and you will not go easy on me. Nor will you go easy on Cassandra. She would find it an insult."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Sebastian smiled and bowed low at the waist.
Without waiting for him to rise, Priscilla took her leave, sweeping from the room with grace and more than a little satisfaction. Though, she knew not why. She had not bested him; she had only exerted societal expectations for their respective ranks. Sebastian was still intent on seducing her, defiling her by making such an act her choice. He wanted her to feel the guilt and shame of succumbing to him. Her desire to do just that was not something she could hide from him, not since he had seen her thoughts – heard her desires.
Still, as she strode toward the formal dining room, instructing the kitchen maid – Clare – to hurry to Sebastian's aid, she felt as though she had outdone him in some way. It wasn't until she was seated at the opposite end of the table to her nephew and Sebastian was serving her the meal she had assisted in preparing, did she realize what it was. She had read Sebastian's thoughts when she was previously unable. How had she done so? And what had changed?
Before Nina had retired for the evening, Priscilla had paid her a short visit, bringing her a pair of trousers that had once belonged to Cassandra. Her sister had always had a secret habit of wearing trousers, especially after Francis had married and moved away from home, leaving her with less time to dictate the twins' behavior. Cassandra still wore trousers on occasion, much to the chagrin and utter disdain of some of the upper crust the Cavendish and Phantomhive families normally rubbed elbows with.
Priscilla did not care, as a widow with money, land, and title, she could do what she liked. Her connection to Cassandra only elevated her sister and protected her from public censure. Though, many understood the strange proclivities of the Phantomhive family, and actively chose to ignore the oddities because of Queen Victoria's favor. Priscilla intended to wear these trousers during her nightly training sessions with Sebastian and Cassandra. Her many skirts would not allow the necessary movement – at least not at first. Practicing in skirts would come later when she was more familiar with… whatever Sebastian had planned for them. Sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat were easy enough in skirts as it was; however, her angelic abilities were as foreign as Japanese martial arts to Priscilla. As much ease as possible was the way to go, for now.
Nina, who had been begging Priscilla to allow her to design trousers for her for years, had jumped at the opportunity saying it would only take a few hours for alterations as only a few seams would need to be let out to fit the duchess' measurements. And the tailor's word had been true, Priscilla standing in the parlor with the trousers on immediately after the evening meal.
"Is this how it feels to be a man?" she asked, twisting herself this way and that to see her entire reflection in the mirror. "I feel so… exposed."
"Exactly, Your Grace, exactly!" Nina exclaimed, tucking Priscilla's blouse into the trousers and helping her gather the fitted trouser legs into her boots. "Men are constantly exposing themselves to the world in this subtle form of domination, a way that is most improper for ladies. It is time we took this privilege from them!"
Priscilla could have sworn steam was rising from the tailor's nostrils in her fervor. She merely laughed, checking herself in the mirror once more.
"I am afraid these will only be worn at home for now," she said apologetically.
Nina gave the duchess a wink. "You'll be wanting to wear them in public in no time, Your Grace. Imagine! A lady with your rank and connections, you could change the world."
Priscilla gave a polite laugh again. She had no intention of changing the world, only destroying some of the darkness that had caused her family so much pain and anguish. Trendsetting would have to wait.
That was hours ago, before her nephew had been tucked into bed and she and Cassandra had emerged out in the gardens, illuminated only by the light of the moon. Both clad in their trousers. If Sebastian was surprised by their state of dress, he gave no indication. In fact, he did not comment on it at all, only mentioning that due to the barrier he erected, no human would hear anything that went on in the gardens tonight.
That was how Priscilla ended up flat on her back, Sebastian leaning over her menacingly with a claw-tipped hand centimeters from her face. His grin was wild, manic, demonic – as though he was about to rip her soul from her body and devour it.
Cassandra could do nothing, doubled over in the dirt with her hands clutching her stomach, bile spewing from her lips. The corsets were bulletproof, that much was for certain, but they were not demon-proof. Sebastian had demonstrated that with a well-timed punch to the gut, and Cassandra was going to feel that blow for days.
Still, Priscilla felt none of the primal terror she thought she would have. Numbness overwhelmed her as she stared up into the face of the demon she knew would devour her in an instant given the chance. If only she had died in that fire…
"As much as your despair entices me, Your Grace," Sebastian said above her, his voice monstrous. "That isn't the point of this lesson."
"There is a point?" Priscilla was shocked at how dead her tone sounded.
"You mean you're not just knocking us around for fun?" Cassandra gasped through her labored breathing, wiping her mouth.
Sebastian sighed – the sound was almost affectionately exasperated – and placed his claws over Priscilla's heart. Cassandra tensed, watching hawkeyed but unable to act for the pain in her stomach.
"Draw out your power or I will tear out your heart, Priscilla."
Pain, sharp and lancing, pierced the duchess' breast, the air leaving her lungs in a shuddering breath as Sebastian's claws tore through her blouse and first layer of skin. Blood welled up around his fingertips, hot and metallic. Priscilla searched for that foreign power in her body, much as she had only a few nights ago, but found nothing. Only emptiness.
"Come now, dear lady," Sebastian crooned manically. "Giving up on your revenge so soon? Giving up on the young master? Your children?"
"Shut up!" Cassandra cried, scrambling to her feet. "Shut up, shut up, shut up you foul creature!"
"Oh, you're next, Lady Phantomhive." Sebastian's eyes never wavered from Priscilla's form, but Cassandra froze as if she were locked in the sights of a predator.
Claws, razor-sharp, sliced through muscle and tissue, nearly reaching the bone of Priscilla's ribcage. She wanted to cry out in pain, wanted to beg for him to stop, but could not find her voice. Was her will to live so weak? Sebastian would kill her. Her nephew had not commanded him otherwise. This little lesson was only another reminder that she was weak, that whenever it mattered most, she was incapable of action.
"I may not be able to have your soul, but I will settle for keeping your heart," Sebastian crooned.
Priscilla felt her bones crunching under his touch and she was in agony. A scream, feral and pained, tore from her aching lungs and her gloved hands closed around Sebastian's wrist. That did nothing to stop his advance, his monstrous hand closing around her heart. Tendon and muscle snapped inside her chest cavity as he pulled upward and she screamed again, the sound echoing in the extensive Phantomhive grounds.
None came running.
Not even Cassandra.
"Oh sweet, sweet Priscilla… You have been flying too close to the sun," Sebastian breathed into her ear.
With one last pull her heart would be freed from her chest cavity. Would she live? Would losing her heart kill her? What would happen to her soul if she wasn't able to complete her covenant with God?
"Hell," Sebastian whispered.
Cherries and honey and blood.
And death.
No. Priscilla would not be going to Hell. Not today.
Tears of pain welling in her eyes, she brought a weak hand up to the demon's face, a cough bringing a burble of blood to her lips. Something stirred beneath her skin, rippling and ancient.
"I hate you," she whispered, feeling her blood seeping through her teeth and gums.
"Music to my ears, Your Grace."
Then heat blazed in her hand, turning her glove to ash. Sebastian recoiled with an unholy roar, clutching his face where she burned him. The bones, sinew, muscle, fat, and skin of Priscilla's body instantly began to knit back together, her heart nestling back into her chest cavity neatly, as though it had never been moved. Sebastian's eyes blazed inhumanely while he stared balefully down at her, his burned flesh slowly healing to smooth ivory.
Suddenly he was gone and Priscilla sat up, clutching her chest to see him grappling with Cassandra in the dirt. Her twin had tackled him to the ground, flame literally blazing in her eyes her fist reared back. The blow struck with cutting precision, the crack ringing out through the garden. Sebastian's crazed laughter followed through his broken jaw, skin, and muscle weaving back together where Cassandra had nearly taken off his mandible.
He knocked her away, sending her flying into a dead tree that cracked and fell atop her, rendering her immobile while she screamed in rage and fury as she tried to remove the splintered limbs from her body. Blood that was not Priscilla's, sharp and hot, assailed her nostrils. As did the faint sensation of her sister's pain mirrored in her body. Cassandra was… bleeding. Cassandra never so much as cut her finger because Priscilla was always there to make sure she was safe. Always. Cassandra did not bleed.
Something detached in her then, fracturing her into two halves much as the embryo in her mother's womb had to create her and her sister. Priscilla watched as her legs stood of their own accord, not a shake or tremble to indicate the now healing injury she had sustained. The ground trembled beneath her when she took a step toward the grinning demon, it cracked under her feet when she took another.
Gravel and dirt and stone began to float, circling slowly around her in a cyclone. Clouds gathered above the manor in a startling crash of thunder, lightning of all shades, hues, and shapes came thundering down around them, scorching the earth where they touched. A blinding light erupted from within her, spilling over her skin like flame, scorching her clothes from her body. A dull ache in between her shoulders that steadily built with each step toward Sebastian, throbbed as her power writhed beneath her skin – over her skin.
Her neck split and the roar of a lioness, the trill of a dove, and the enraged cry of an Andalusian warhorse deafened her. All the heads gave a shriek of pain when her back burst open, blood and viscera exploding outward to reveal two pairs of snow-white wings. The force of her body's transformation nearly sent her to the ground, but she held fast, her flaming eyes trained upon the demon before her.
A demon who was staring at her with a mix of terror and something that resembled admiration – no… awe. Desire.
Blood spilled down his changing face where Cassandra had nearly taken his jaw clean off, and his teeth – sharp and wicked – were clenched tight enough to crack. He was beautiful, his form all flickering blackness and devoid of anything human now. Beautiful and terrible as though he were Lucifer himself.
She crossed the distance between them in an instant, her fist a ball of light punching through his body and out the other side. Shadows swirled around her arm, blackened blood leaking down her burning flesh. Sebastian gave a cough, blackened spittle and blood coating her many faces.
Priscilla blinked, watching as a clawed hand reached for her wrist and extracted it from his writhing mass of a body. He then pressed her burning bloodied fist to his lips, the skin of his mouth scorching against the heat before he grinned at her with his ruined mouth.
It was like she could see his attack coming but her body was too unaccustomed to this power to move fast enough to stop it. His claws raked across one of her heads, the warhorse screaming in pain as Sebastian blinded it, but Priscilla was able to give back a blow of her own, shattering Sebastian's shoulder. Or his ribs. It was hard to tell what was body and what was shadow with how he was morphing between demon and human.
He merely cackled, raking his claws across her stomach, watching as she bled golden ichor into the dirt. Flame balled in her hand, and she thrust it at his middle in retaliation, barely missing him when he dodged. The lioness hissed and she launched herself at him, taking him to the earth. It shuddered at the impact as though a meteor had crash-landed, leaving them in the middle of a crater, smoke and ash rising around them.
Blow after blow they traded until Priscilla caught sight of Cassandra through the eyes of the dove from her back. She was staring down in horror at the battle below, covered in blood and dirt where she had pulled the broken tree from her body and crawled free of it. Cassandra… she was okay.
"Shall I destroy him, sister?" Priscilla asked with a voice that roared with the sound of the wind and erupting earth.
"Prissy?" Cassandra asked with uncertainty in her voice. "Is this what we are now? Are we… are we really no longer human?"
"You are not," Sebastian's voice was no more than a whisper but it echoed as though he had screamed. "You are holy light and fury. A vessel for your beloved Creator's will and a sword for his right hand."
"And you are an abomination," Priscilla heard her heads say.
"And I see God in your eyes…" The sound of his voice was almost wistful, filled with some sort of unknown longing Priscilla could not even hope to describe.
And just as soon as her power appeared, it began to fade, the light of her body flickering out until she was nothing but human again. Her body felt as though it was made of lead, and she couldn't force herself to stay upright. Cassandra slid down the crater behind her, attempting to reach her before she fell, but was too late. Priscilla had fallen forward, her clothes miraculously reappearing as gravity took hold and she fell into Sebastian's awaiting – and thankfully human – arms.
"There now," he whispered as a bout of trembling overtook her. "There now, you are safe."
Cassandra scoffed behind them but made no move to get closer, fear flashing in her sapphire eyes. If she moved wrong, he may harm Priscilla, and she did not want that. However, the awestruck expression on Sebastian's face indicated anything but intent to harm.
Red eyes met blue and Priscilla felt that very same heat from earlier building in her abdomen. They had torn each other apart, yet that quiver of desire still inhabited her body? And he still wished to corrupt her? She wanted to voice her thoughts, regardless of their audience, but her lips would not move. Exhaustion overtook her and she slumped even further into the demon's arms.
"I think," Sebastian began, lifting Priscilla to rest against his chest with ease. "That for your next round of instruction, we should work on honing your abilities in your human body, as Lady Phantomhive seemed to do earlier."
Priscilla scoffed, as it was the only sound she could make, but nestled closer to Sebastian, breathing in his tempting scent. She was asleep before they crossed the threshold of the manor, and would not awaken until the sun was high the next day. A teacup of warm milk and honey sat on a cart next to her bedside, Anna and the children nowhere to be seen. And when she rose, dressed in her nightgown, to stare out at the ruined gardens, the Duchess found that none of last night's lesson had left a mark. Not even the crater she had created when she tackled Sebastian into the dirt.
Crossing the room to drink the warmed milk, she saw a new pair of black wool gloves lying neatly on the cart, next to a tray of expertly prepared plain scones. Grimacing, Priscilla slipped the gloves back on – trying not to think about the fact that they had been conjured, or of the demon who conjured them. The power in her body quivered beneath her skin, and when she caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror, she could have sworn her eyes were slitted like a lioness'.
A/N:
Thank you for the comments, follows, and faves! I appreciate each one.
https/open./playlist/3byc3x0vMKdLbrXIL1ZUrT?si=74c234590d4d4412
Here's the playlist guys lol