Refuge of Delayed Souls

Part 28 - Creature of the Night

Winter 1690

Lady Mabel Theawicke paced the room like a cat possessed and fought to regain some control over her senses; all emotion apart from rage appeared to have abandoned her. Her killer leaned nonchalantly against one of the heavily ornate posts of the bed, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk fixed upon his handsome face.

“You cheated me! You promised to make me one of you!” she screamed at him.

“I promised nothing of the sort –- you cheated yourself!” His words were calm and confidently delivered.

“You said you would do it! You said you would take the child and the others as payment! You agreed to the bargain and now you renege! I will have what is mine by right and you shall give it to me!”

“My dear Mabel, let us look at the facts. I asked nothing of you and only agreed to accept what you freely offered.”

“There! You condemn yourself with your own words!” she accused, continuing to pace as she spoke.

“Let us look, then, at the bargain that was struck.”

“You said you would make me a creature of the night!”

“I told you I could not do that. I am as I was created –- as were you. How could I possibly change you from one to the other? I am not responsible for your mistaking me for something I am not!”

“But I wanted to live... I wanted to carry on! You said it was possible,” she implored.

“And it is, and you are! You are still here speaking with me despite your body lying there.” He pointed towards the floor at the foot of the bed.

They both looked down towards her ashen corpse lying crumpled and withered upon the wide oak floorboards. Her dark brown hair fanned out around her face and her fathomless blue eyes stared upwards as though appealing to heaven.

He sat down at a small oak table and stared nonchalantly at the white and silver lace of his cuff. The tightly woven floral pattern of the lace danced lazily across the grain of the table and flickered in the firelight.

Embracing the lace was the smooth powder blue linen of his jacket's slashed sleeves and a trail of silver buttons kissed the table where his arm rested.

“I wanted to carry on living! I wanted to cheat death!” she tightened her hands into little fists and punched the air beneath them, biting her bottom lip at the same time.

“Then don’t go into the light. Carry on as you are now,” he replied flippantly.

The coldness of his words and his apparent amusement at her situation continued to fuel her rage.

“I love you!” she declared, hoping to harvest some degree of affection from him.

He rose to his feet suddenly, sending a heavily carved wooden chair backwards across the room and made his way towards her with measured steps, his polished black boots hammering their way across the floor, mimicking the beat her absent heart would once have made.

Taking a strand of her hair in his hand he commenced to caress it gently between his thumb and forefinger, studying her intently as he did so. Suddenly, he pulled her forcibly towards him and pushed his snarling face against her own. Mabel felt an emotion other than rage.

“We both know you lie –- when have you ever loved anyone more than yourself?” He spat the words at her before releasing her hair as though the touch of it disgusted him. He walked towards the door and as he approached it, it opened wide and crashed against the wall, plaster dust bursting out from around its edges.

“I don’t understand,” she whimpered, voice filled with despair.

His presence instantly moved from near the door and formed behind her. Slowly, painstakingly, he walked around to face her. “What don’t you understand, Mabel? You got exactly what you wanted –- as did I. You would have died tonight either way. I just had no idea how hard you were prepared to fall.”