The Mordarski Daughters

Chapter Two - An Encounter

"I realise you wish to hear my story, however, that shall be divulged when we have time to spare - dear brother, my cousin, Tristan Mortellaro is an evil man. Do not get in the path of what he wants, or you shall be trodden underfoot, and laid on the wayside. I do not want you and your sister to get involved in this ancient feud. Basil, Lawrence, and Claude hide a deep hate, a hate so passionate that they would do anything to quench it. You do not know them as I do, and I hope you never shall. Did you know that for years I have had to tell my children that their father was dead. I could never let them know that such a man as Claude was their father. He's -"

"You must be mistaken - your daughters are in no way related to him, he himself utterly denies any relation. Claude has never been wrong. I am more obliged to believe Claude." I interrupted, feeling quite scorned.

"You don't believe your own flesh and blood?" She cried outraged.

"Since when were you a relation of mine? Why, you could simply be an escaped lunatic for all I know!" I began to turn away, and rejoin Claude, who, if I predicted correctly, would be eavesdropping.

"You cannot walk away from the facts! This is a danger you must be aware of!" She had collapsed into the snivelling mess once more. Then and there I decided I would have no more of this nonsense, and so decided to return to Basil's home once more.

Without even bothering to search for my dear friend, I swiftly made my way to the nearest station and caught a train back to central London. However, when I reached Waterloo, I changed my mind - why should I go home? I felt the need to do something interesting, but unfortunately I had been foolish enough to leave Claude behind - he always provided something interesting to muse over. I suddenly felt someone's hand on my shoulder, the grip was firm, and extremely tight.

"George Gladstone I presume?" The hand's owner muttered, a tone of great authority audible. I turned to meet the gaze of an extremely large young man, well dressed, but the clothes seemed extremely large for him.

"Well sir, there is no need for force" I said, shrugging of the large hand. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure of knowing your name - what is it?" I inquired. I only received a glare in answer.

"You must come with me," as he said this, I saw him draw a hand revolver from his breast pocket, "or you may not live to regret it." I felt him push the revolver into my side, one false move, could kill me.

"Of course, where are we going?" And then darkness consumed me. I assume that an associate of his clubbed my head, as I woke up with a stonking headache. There were trees all around, and the only light was that of the last rays of sun escaping the horizon. A man was approaching.

"You are too... too... too bold for my liking. I believe your sister warned you of me?" The tall figure approaching stated, almost proudly.

"No, I don't believe she did... Agnes hasn't warned me about anything..." I replied, racking my brains, trying to work out what he meant. "Oh, Margaret..."

"So she has, and yes, she is your half-sister, although, I tend to ignore the 'half', makes for too much to think about. I guess that would make me your cousin, despite the fact we share no blood in common."

"So, you are Mortellaro? I thought you'd be taller, and... well... more impressive." I blurted out. He was close now, and kicked out, delivering me a jab of sharp pain in the gut. "Ow, no need of that!"

"People like you need to be trodden on, you are so unworthy - I don't know why I'm wasting my time... I should really just kill you, but that wouldn't be half as fun - and you wouldn't be fulfilling your purpose."

"What purpose?"

"I need you to get to everyone else - you are the main link, other than that, you are insignificant. Now, please excuse me, I must go now, I am a very busy individual. Mr. Pendleson, take him away, I won't be needing him until later." Tristan Mortellaro commanded, pointing at the large young man who had kidnapped me. I was dragged away, and then, once more, darkness consumed me.

Upon awakening, I perceived a blurry view of someone leaning over me, and as my vision cleared I saw it was Miss Kingfisher, or Miss Mordarski, I wasn't sure which to call her. Then I realised we were moving. Attempting to move, I began to say "Where am -" when I was interrupted.

"Sshh, hush now, you have severe injuries - I wouldn't advise any unnecessary movement. I'm taking you back to the Ranson household, there you can discuss with Claude and the others what has happened." Margaret ordered in a maternal tone. Ignoring her instructions I tried to sit up, only to let out a regretful wince. "What did I tell you?" She remarked with some severity. Contented that she was right, I settled down and mused over what had taken effect. I suddenly realised - I still had the telegram, why not read it? Being extremely careful not to further my injuries, I felt around my coat pocket until I felt the piece of card.

"What is that? What are you doing - do you not understand the meaning of 'not moving'?" Margaret squawked, craning her neck to see what was in my possession.

"Oh nothing." I mumbled, concealing the telegram from her view.

"You have something - please let me see it?" She whined.

"I haven't seen it myself yet!" I cried indignantly.

"So you do have something? Please..." She pleaded, slipping her hand into my pocket. "I'll read it aloud."

"Don't read it! Please! Put it back!" I cried desperately, squirming and wincing, desperately trying to wiggle into an upright position.