Chapter 9
"You understand heaven? You understand hell?" The voice was smooth, silky, laden with sensuous power. The sound swam over her flesh like a thousand electrically charged ants. Her back arched in pleasure and her muscles threatened to spasm with the touch of it.
"Mmmm," was all she could reply. Her mind seemed to be floating, semi-detached from her body. But she did not want to float away. She wanted to be there for it. Be there for the sensation. The pleasure. The pain. The sensation was all she was. There were no thoughts, save those inspired by the voice. There were no memories, save for the memories of the sensation. There was no future, save for anticipation.
And she did anticipate. She wanted. She needed.
"Please," she croaked.
"What, my child? What is it you desire?"
"More. Please. I want more."
The silence was agony, though some shred of her old awareness told her that it was but a moment.
"My child. My special child."
Warm flesh met her lips then, and she was filled with an indescribable joy, for she had kissed the lips of her Queen. And they began again. And they violated her body, filled her beyond measure through every point she could offer. And then there was pain, searing delicious agony that burned to her core as her flesh was carved and violated and rendered asunder. Over and over again they violated every fiber of her being.
Then they made her whole again. And they waited, and the only sound was her babbling, pleading.
"Please...please don't stop, please don't stop, oh, my Queen, don't, don't let them stop..."
The entreaty continued in a continuous stream as her small body writhed against the chains binding her to the stone altar.
"My child." She almost cried at the sound. The voice was so beautiful. It was almost unbearable. "I believe you are as ready as I can make you. It is time. It is time to let you go. For you have an important job to do, sweet Elizabeth."
"No," she denied it! It couldn't possibly be. "No, I want to stay, with you, here, forever!"
"And one day you shall. One day you will be mine for eternity." The voice was calming, mellifluous. But a great sense of loss welled up within her. The idea of being parted from her Queen was more than her soul could bear. Now Elizabeth began to cry.
"Shhh, my child." The voice said, soothing like a mother with her newborn. "I promise you will be returned to me. But first, you are going to help me destroy Wilhelmina Murray."
The blonde-haired woman tried to choke back her tears.
"Yes, my Queen," Elizabeth promised, between sobs.
"Aaaah!"
Elizabeth woke. For a moment her mind was a void, empty of all thought and knowledge. For an aching moment she was a blank slate, untroubled by memories, fears or doubts. It was tranquility. It could not last. Her mind returned to her with a rushing cacophony of sensations, thoughts and recollections. Elizabeth's eyes exploded open and she sat bolt upright.
She was in her room, in her bed, under her sheets. The recognition of these warm familiar surroundings sent a wave of relief flowing through her. Golly-what a dream! was the first new thought she formed, as the waves of memory swirled in great tidal waves around her skull. Her thoughts were laden with relief and disappointment in about equal proportions. The dream had seemed so real, so intense. She peered suspiciously around her, staring into the dim recesses of her darkened room. Moonlight threw objects into stark relief whenever they were touched by the silvery beams, but the lunar glow served to cast shadows as dark as pitch where it did not penetrate.
As far as she could tell, this was definitely her room. Everything was so familiar, so reassuring. As Elizabeth lay there, a thought popped into her mind, and she raised the sheets and looked down.
"Why am I naked?" An interesting question. She had never gone to sleep naked before - it just wasn't the done thing for a young lady to do. She would have to get up early and put her slip on before Gwen, their maid, intruded upon her. Right now she was simply too tired.
A monstrous yawn escaped her and she rolled onto her side. Her sleep dulled brain idly tried to recall when it was she had gone to bed that evening. But everything was foggy and soon she drifted off to sleep-a contented half-smile playing upon her lips.
Elizabeth realized she was awake. Light streamed through the gaps in the curtains, warming the side of her face. She blinked stupidly as she rose from the mire of unconsciousness into waking reality. A spontaneous stretch engulfed her body and, languorously, she stretched from tip to toe, then settled back down to doze. A knock sounded at the bedroom door.
"Come," she called, rolling over to bring the door into view.
Delicately the door opened. A head poked into her boudoir, a familiar grin on that familiar face.
Elizabeth gasped and sat straight up. "Golly fuck! Azrael!"
"None other, baby," he said, broadening his grin. His eyes flicked downwards slightly. "Mmmm, that is a nice welcome. I'm flattered."
She stared at him for a moment then, in a flash of comprehension, looked down at herself. She gave a yelp and pulled the bedcovers up to her throat.
"But, but..." she stammered.
I'll look at it later," he quipped cheerily, backing into room with a tray in his hands, "but first we gotta get you fed."
The tray carried breakfast upon it. Azrael sat it down upon the bed gingerly. Elizabeth regarded the contents with suspicion bred of confusion. The items seemed perfectly normal - toast, eggs, jam, rashers of bacon - and she wasn't exactly why they shouldn't be normal. It was just that the whole situation had gone from perfectly ordinary to bizarre in the blink of an eye. She returned her gaze to Azrael as her mind struggled to overcome the implications of this turn of events. Had her 'dreams' also been real?
Azrael was sitting on the side of the bed regarding her, a patient benevolent expression on his handsome features. He flicked a gesture toward the tray.
"Eat. Eat," he commanded, nodding enthusiastically with each word.
Elizabeth felt strangely not hungry, but took a piece of toast anyway and began to spread Marmalade upon it.
"Where are Ma'ma and Pa'pa?" she inquired as casually as possible.
"Not here."
"I see. Where would they be then?"
"A long way away. But closer than you think."
"Oh."
She finished preparing her toast for consumption and bit into it. It was curiously tasteless and unappetizing. Elizabeth put the food down with a slight frown and looked at Azrael-still trying to catch up with events.
"Am I to take it that last nights..." Elizabeth tried to put a positive sounding spin on things, "adventure, actually happened?" Truth be told, Elizabeth was quite pleased with her calmness.
"Yup. And a narrow escape we had too. But we made it due to your decisive action in stepping through that gate."
"Oh." Her brow furrowed as she recalled the memory of that moments. That wasn't exactly how she remembered it; vaguely she was aware of a push. Elizabeth started slightly as a thought flashed into her mind.
"Where's Wilhelmina?!" She looked pleadingly at Azrael, suddenly desperate for reassurance. Now she looked into space, her attention inward. "Wilhelmina! Wil, are you there?!"
Elizabeth paused-there was no response. Azrael looked concerned. He leaned forward and touched her shoulder reassuringly.
"There was a storm," he began. "We got separated. I managed to find you, but Wil..." He looked toward the brightness of the windows, the light shining upon him highlighting every detail of his perfect face. "Well, we'll find her soon. I have my people out looking for her." It was unclear whether who he was trying to reassure-Elizabeth or himself. Azrael looked back at her, his smile kindly as Elizabeth stuttered.
"The storm...it..."
"Shhh now," he interrupted her, "all that matters is that you're safe and Wil will be found soon. I'm sure of that."
"Oh." Elizabeth paused. "So, where are we? This looks exactly like my room, but..." she surveyed the room more closely in the sunlight, "it is not."
Azrael looked mildly curious. "How can you tell?"
"Well, for starters, there isn't a drinks cabinet in my room. Ma'ma and Pa'pa wouldn't approve."
Azrael followed her gaze to the glass cabinet, with its assorted bottles and crystal decanters.
"Fletch, you moron," Azrael muttered under his breath, scowling. He returned his attention to her. "It doesn't matter."
"What doesn't matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing really matters. What is important is that you are safe and well." He smiled once more. "Now, eat up and get dressed-when you're ready. Then I'll give you a tour of my humble abode."
"Your abode?"
He sighed quietly. "Yes, you are my honored guest now. But I have matters to attend to at this time. If you'll excuse me?"
"Oh. Of course." Elizabeth was still confused. "But, how did you recreate my room in such a short time? The similarity is amazing."
"Willpower."
"Oh." That answer did not lessen her confusion.
"Now, I really must be going." With that he bowed his head, turned upon his heel and left the room. Elizabeth flopped back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Just as things had gone back to normal, they suddenly erupt into a mess of confusion the likes of which she could never have imagined. Still, there were compensations. Azrael was real. She crossed her arms over herself under the sheets, feeling them against her breasts. Hopefully, they'd get to fuck again later, she thought wickedly. After all, she might as well-because when Ma'ma and Pa'pa found her missing her life was as good as forfeit!
Then shame lanced through her system as she remembered what Azrael had said about Wil. Poor Wil! She was lost in the err...storm, without a body and.... Come to think of it, how could Wil get separated and lost when she didn't even have a body?
The door to Elizabeth's room closed with a gentle 'snick'. The pleasant smile disappeared as Azrael took a moment to compose himself. He took a couple of deep breaths. Turning on his heel, he strode down the long, torch lit corridor; his footsteps on the stone floor being surprisingly quiet for such a big man.
The corridor looked almost medieval in its construction and décor. It was broad and the ceiling was likewise high. The torches mounted in brackets on the stone walls at regular intervals gave a good, but flickering illumination, casting jittery, nervous shadows along the passageway, and indeed throughout the entire dwelling. Tapestries bearing ornate but esoteric symbology covered the intervals between the torches, mitigating the austerity of the gray, pitted walls-to a degree.
After navigating through some distance of this seemingly endless corridor, including several twists and turns, Azrael stopped in front on one of the many heavy oak doors that were set into the walls. He took a deep breath once more, jiggled a bit to relax his muscles, and put the pleasant smile back on his hitherto expressionless features. Ready to proceed, he gently turned the ornate brass door handle and stepped into the room; which was pretty much identical to the one he had just been in. Except, of course, the female inside was different.
The naked woman tied to the bed snapped her head toward the door as it opened. For perhaps half a second startled surprise registered on her features, before the expression was replaced with a cold look. The change was a reflexive response, as though through long practiced habit. After a moment more she returned her gaze to the ceiling. Azrael stopped short of the large, four-poster bed and regarded her, his smile broadening into one that verged on triumphant. She was magnificent. Her hands were bound together above her head, while her ankles were spread wide, secured to the beds upright posts. Stretched out there, restrained, exposed and without a stitch of clothing, the woman should have been a picture of defenselessness. Which she was-almost. But there was something in her manner, something intangible about her that, even in this position, she was not his yet. That both frustrated and excited Azrael.
Patience, he reminded himself, it will be soon. So very soon.
He walked around the bed to the other side, his eyes never leaving her as she stared stolidly at the ceiling, as though trying to deny his existence. He stopped now, and regarded her-calmly, appreciatively-as his eyes roamed up and down the length of her flesh. Muscle definition was clearly visible - her biceps, thighs, abdominal muscles were mounds of hardness under her lightly tanned skin. The tension visible in her muscle tone betrayed the nervousness she felt. More silence occupied the time as Azrael stared as his captive, while his captive stared at the roof.
It appeared that her resolve broke first. A confused melee of emotions gripped her stony face for an instance, before her former expression returned. She twitched against her silk bonds, as though reminding herself of their existence then turned her head to look at him.
"Well? Aren't you goin' to say somethin', for fuck's sake?"
"You are so beautiful."
"Liar." Having broken the ice, she returned to staring at the ceiling.
"My beloved Wil-how could you say such a thing? You know you are a goddess in my eyes."
"Yeh, an' your eyes are very fucked up, so let's cut the crap and get to the chase-what the fuck is going on?"
Azrael approached her and sat on the bed, his eyes on her face as she steadfastly refused to make eye contact.
"What the fuck is going on?" he echoed her. "You know what is going on-you're home, baby. You're where you always belonged. Here-with me."
Wil said nothing, continuing to stare upward, though it was possible that a line now creased her forehead.
Azrael leaned across the wide bed until he was close to her; the fingertips on one hand caressing along her belly. She did not respond to the touch.
"Beautiful," he muttered once more, in an almost dreamy manner.
"Is there some point to all this?"
"Mmmm? Oh, just welcoming you home, my love." He continued to trace her body with his finger for a moment before continuing. "Do you know how you got here?"
"Spit it out then."
"Dear little Elizabeth delivered you here, delivered you from evil. You should thank her. Why, without her assistance I might never have got you away to safety, to this sanctuary."
There was a silence.
"Sure," Wil stated blankly. Then with a hint of urgency, "She's here then? You brought her here?"
"Of course. I couldn't leave her there in the cold now could I? Besides, you were trapped inside her body at the time. I had to bring her back here to get you free."
"Yeh, I'm enjoying my new found freedom now, thanks." She tensed against her bonds lightly. "What have you done to her?"
"Done to her? Whatever do you mean, Wil? The child has been relaxing in comfort, and soon I may show her the entertainments on offer in my humble abode." He paused. "An abode is a house."
"I knew that, asshole." Wil's voice was blank and flat still, but there was a hint of something lurking in her tone as she spoke. "There's no need to keep her here. She's nothing to you now. She can go back home and we can be alone. It'll be just you and me, like how you want it."
"Nothing to me?" He echoed her once more, faux indignation rising in his tone. "I'm shocked you could think I feel so little for my new friend. My little plaything."
"Look!" Wil exploded, rearing up against her bonds. For fuck's sake, send her back to where she came from - I don't wanna see her, gottit?"
"Wil, Wil, Wil," Azrael shook his head gently as he repeated her name as an amused smile played across his lips. "That temper of yours again! You've got to learn to control it or someone will get hurt. Oh, wait. Someone has been hurt by your temper. Many someones in fact."
"Bullshit - you're fucked in the head! An' for fuck sake send the her back home!"
He met her glare for a moment before he replied. "It would be poor hospitality to throw dear Miss Chalmers out into the night without thanking her properly before hand. And beside," he leaned a bit closer to her, "she is my property, isn't she? At your suggestion I seem to recall."
"Crap! I just said I couldn't stop you-not for you to do it."
"You hardly begged me not to."
"Bullshit! You're full of bullshit. You always have been. I don't really give a shit what happens to her dumb ass. What I wanna know is why the fuck am I tied up like this, huh? You gotta point to prove here? Sure, I'm your prisoner-I accept that. Now let me the fuck up!"
"Oh, you wound me, my love! Of course you're not a prisoner. How could you be a prisoner in your own home? Soon you'll be able to come and go as you please. But first you have to recover from your ordeal. And besides, I though you might like to be reminded of the good old times."
Wil opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it, and laid back flat on the bed, flexing her wrists against her bonds.
"Let me up then?"
"As you wish. But first I ask one thing-grant me a kiss on your beautiful lips." Wil regarded the ceiling, and tried to calm her breathing. A tight, strained smile slipped onto her features. "Sure, you have permission for that."
"Thank you."
Wil pursed her lips slightly in preparation, then quickly realized something was wrong as she felt Azrael move in the wrong direction. "Hey! Wait, no! I didn't mean.... Ouuu!"
She cried out in surprise and shock as Azrael's tongue ran up the length of her nether lips, gouging it's way inside of her soft depths, his breath brushing upon modest pubic hair.
"Oh you slimy piece of shit.... Aaaahhh-hey, I said 'a kiss'. That means one, motherfucker! Stop it!!"
Azrael desisted from his ministrations and looked up at her. "Sorry, Wil. How could I have misunderstood?"
"Fuck you, an' let me up." Wil was tugging at the silk knots now with increasing vigor.
"Of course, baby. Time for you to get out of bed, you lazy thing! Get dressed in something nice-I'm sure you'll find many items to choose from in your wardrobe. Then it will be time for lunch and we can get together a have a chat with our friend Elizabeth. Won't that be nice? Allrighty-see you soon."
As Azrael walked towards the door Wil's restraints disappeared. Azrael cast her a glance and a smile. She regarded him sullenly from the bed, sitting up now and massaging her wrists. Her expression did not change until after he had left and she had heard the door close. Then her face dissolved-a strange mixture of fear, sadness and anger struggled for dominance. A thought occurred to her and she slipped off the bed hastily, giving it a backward glance of disgust. Wil stood there naked, that range of emotions playing across her. It seemed as though anger won out, as a scowl leapt across her face and her fist shot out to deliver a sharp blow to the empty air. But it was quickly replaced by a nervous, haunted look.
"Fuck it!" It was less of an exclamation and more of a whine.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Wil made her way over to the wardrobe and pulled the door open. She regarded the contents for a moment.
"Bastard," she muttered.
Fletch was standing in the hallway as Azrael left the bedroom. Azrael put his finger to his lips, demanding silence, and motioned them down the hallway. Once a discreet distance had been obtained, Fletch spoke.
"And how was M'Lady?"
"Surprisingly well actually, Fletch, my faithful servant." Fletch inclined his head slightly at both the news and the compliment. He was immaculately attired in a traditional butlers uniform of black suit and white shirt. A black bow tie completed the ensemble.
"Wonderful, M'lord," he rejoiced in his restrained English accent.
"I thought so. By the way, you look perfect, this place looks perfect, and that accent is spot on."
Once again Fletch inclined his head at the compliment.
"But one thing." Azrael stepped forward as he continued.
"Yes, M'lord?" replied Fletch, stiffening subtlety as his master placed a hand on the servant's neck, cupping the back of Fletch's head.
"Young ladies in the 18th century," Azrael drove Fletch's head into the stone wall with a combination of casualness and power, "do not typically have drinks cabinets in their rooms."
Fletch staggered back, shaking his head to clear it. "No, M'Lord." He paused to press his slicked back hair into place and clear his head. "You did mention something about brandy, I seem to recall. I thought there would be other spirits on offer too."
"I brought the drink with me, fool. I needed it to...facilitate my plans."
"Ahhh. I am sorry for the misunderstanding, M'Lord." There was no significant change in Fletch's tone or demeanor from the time he had first spoken. "You said Miss Murray was well?" he said, skillfully changing the subject.
"Ah-huh. I was expecting an enraged outburst pretty quickly, but she was surprisingly calm-for most of the time. That has to be a good sign. Or a very bad one."
"Undoubtedly, M'Lord."
Azrael shot him a look.
"Undoubtedly it is a good sign, M'Lord," Fletch recovered hastily.
"Undoubtedly. Now, you may bring Wilhelmina then the other one to the dining room."
"As you wish, M'Lord." Fletch paused for a moment before broaching the next subject. "There is still the other matter to attend to."
"The other matter?" Azrael was staring off into the middle distance, obviously lost in some private vision or fantasy.
"Yes, M'Lord, the question of the...external situation. I'm afraid in your absence events have moved onward somewhat. Beyond the prospect of diplomatic reconciliation I fear."
"Oh, that? Do not bother me with such trifles-there are far greater things to attend to now. Far greater things." He gazed dreamily for a moment more, before abruptly returning his attention to Fletch. "Well? Why do you stand there? Be about your business, man!"
Azrael cuffed Fletch around the ear, spun on his heels and marched off.
Fletch's eyes burned a hole in Azrael's back until his master had disappeared around a corner. The manservant brushed his hair slowly and carefully back into place.
"Yes, M'Lord."
Elizabeth almost had to run to keep up with the long-strides of her escort. She looked up at his broad shoulders as she attempted to maintain a gait that verged on a trot, while simultaneously trying to retain her dignity. The sound of their footsteps was absorbed by the thick red carpet running down the center of the passageway, over the wooden floorboards. The wooden walls were intermittently hung with paintings showing groups of odd people posed in front of a fireplace. It always seemed to be the same fireplace bit Elizabeth had no time to stop and inspect them, rushing as she was to keep up with the servant.
"I say! I say-do we have to move quite so fast?"
"We are almost there, Miss Chalmers." He replied without turning his head to look back at her, or slow his gait.
Elizabeth found his manner somewhat confusing. When he had first called upon her in her room she had, been surprised that her visitor was a stranger and not Azrael. The strange man had said nothing for several seconds, just stood there and stared at her with an odd expression on his face. Once they'd got over this awkward first phase she'd been favorably impressed with his manner. He'd seemed so dignified and refined in his presentation. The servant had introduced himself simply as Fletch, and informed her that her presence was required at dinner. But then there had been this inexplicable need for haste along the hallway. Her long, full dress-a deep satin blue in color that she was quite pleased with-was simply not designed for such rapid movements.
Abruptly he halted. Caught off guard, Elizabeth had just about tripped as she staggered to a standstill.
"We are here." The announcement was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating the large double door they now stood before. It was paneled and made from some very dark wood that Elizabeth couldn't immediately identify.
"Look here, is there really all this need for haste? It is rather unseemly to practically drag a young lady to her destination-do you know nothing of proper decorum?"
His look was one of astonishment. Elizabeth found it almost hard to believe that the expression was genuine, but it appeared to be so. He recovered himself after a few seconds.
"Of course. Errr...my apologies, Miss Chalmers. I didn't think." A strange look flashed across his features. "You won't mention this to the Master, I trust?" His sudden earnestness also seemed genuine. Elizabeth was on the verge of being baffled by the servant's curious responses. "Why, no, ummm, I don't see that there would be a need for such a course of action. It was clearly a misunderstanding. Let us put it behind us." She hoped that her words had soothed the man and calmed the waters between them. They seemed to anyway.
The dining room was a long, broad space with a high, vaulted ceiling that immediately brought back images of Elizabeth's church. It possessed the same sort of regal emptiness and reserved grandeur that one always felt when entering a house of worship. Three wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling beams. They looked strangely medieval and incongruous. Even more incongruous was the painting of a bowl of fruit on a table that hung above the fireplace (which was complete with roaring fire). The picture seemed oddly innocuous and out of place with the vastness and almost gothic theme of the rest of the room.
There were two people in the dining room. Two pairs of eyes were upon her. The two had stood when Elizabeth entered. They were at the long dining table that occupied the center of the room-one at the middle of the table on the opposite side to her, and the other at the head of the table. The doors behind her had been closed and the three of them were quite alone. The silence was deafening.
Elizabeth made a small "ahem" noise in the back of her throat to cover the nervousness within her, and began to walk toward the pair, her footsteps echoing off of the bare stone floor. As she neared the fireplace she was vaguely aware of the curious lack of warmth emanating from such a large blaze, but was too preoccupied with the other occupants of the room to pay it much attention.
Azrael was the one at the head of the table, and as Elizabeth looked upon him her nerves faded away. The other was female, tall, a bit thin, with short, dark hair-cut in a boyish fashion and parted to the side. Elizabeth had never seen a woman with her hair cut short before, and the incongruousness of the sight captured her attention for a moment. Her awareness was abruptly pulled back to her darling Azrael as he spoke.
"My dear Elizabeth!" He began grandiloquently. "How delightful of you to join us."
"The pleasure is all mine, my dear Azrael," Elizabeth replied with a hint of breathlessness.
"Quite." He flashed a grin that was lacking in some unknown component that would have made it whole. Elizabeth's smile faded just slightly. Azrael swept his hand across to indicate the silent stranger and Elizabeth's eyes followed the gesture, happy to have the enigma of the stranger's presence resolved and to be distracted from her momentary disquiet.
"Allow me to introduce to you," he paused a moment for effect, "or rather reintroduce you to your dear friend, Wilhelmina Murray."
"Wil," the woman corrected, as if by robotic reflex.
Elizabeth's eyes went round with surprise-she had never heard that voice before but that one word was said in a manner that was hauntingly familiar. She took in the figure before her in more detail. The young lady (as to Elizabeth's mind her short, boyish hair gave her a young appearance), was tall-probably the tallest female Elizabeth had ever seen. She must have been six foot tall.
Her attire is...interesting, Elizabeth thought. She was wearing a black leather top, cropped at the waist, revealing most of her midriff and hugging the swell of her breasts. A matching pair of tight trousers complemented the top; they appeared to be sown together down the side with a cross-hatching stitch that revealed flesh from hip to ankle. The tall woman moved as Elizabeth began her appraisal, crossing her arms in front of her, causing muscles to move under her lightly tanned skin.
Good Lord, the though leapt into Elizabeth's mind, she's a bloody Amazon!
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Good Lord." She said it out loud now. "Wilhelmina. How...how wonderful that you're safe. Dear Azrael," she glanced in his direction, "said that you were lost in a storm." Elizabeth hesitated a moment before finishing brightly. "I'm ever so glad that you are safe and sound."
"Yeah, I'm ever so glad to be safe and sound too." The way Wil had said that, without a trace of inflection or a smile, and echoing Elizabeth's phrasing, had given the response a mocking tone. Elizabeth was saved from further unsettling analysis by Azrael's interjection.
"Well, isn't this just grand?" he boomed, that broad, perfect grin of his upon his face. "Three friends together again." He clasped his hands together in front of him and wrung them while he looked dreamy for a moment. "A happy ending-just like in the stories." His expression was one of almost child-like happiness.
A wave of disgust rolled over Wil's features and she glanced at some corner of the room. "Oh right, and we know what kinda stories you like."
Azrael stared at her, his expression abruptly serious. "It's a quality drama. An examination of the human condition in a light and accessible format."
Wil shot him a dark look, her face equally serious, and snarled back at him through gritted teeth. "Friends," she said the word with a mocking disgust "is a lobotomy in a box!" Her voice had risen to as close to a shout as one can get while gritting one's teeth.
The two stared at each other, eyes blazing, before Azrael snapped his attention to Elizabeth. He smiled warmly at the baffled blonde. Wil turned to look at her to, the sullen air returning. Elizabeth looked rapidly between them a few times as she attempted to fathom what that last exchange had meant.
"Uhhh," she began, "perhaps we should all sit down?"
"But of course!" Azrael seemed almost thrilled by the idea. "I almost forgot my manners. Please, ladies-be seated."
All three of them did so. Azrael plopped down happily into his ornate, high-back chair. Likewise, Elizabeth positioned herself upon hers in a delicate and lady-like manner. Wil slumped down uncaringly, arms across her chest.
Elizabeth couldn't help but note disapprovingly that Wil didn't seem to care much for her posture. Instead the tall woman slid down in her chair till her head was about the same height as Elizabeth's. Wil initially stared at some spot in the middle of the table, then lifted her gaze to look Elizabeth in the eye. A flicker of something that might be called a smile appeared at the corner of Wil's mouth and disappeared as rapidly as it had arrived.
Elizabeth turned her head to look at Azrael, who hadn't said anything more since he had invited them to sit. He was, she discovered, staring at Wil with that dreamy expression as his face.
There was a curious period where each looked at the other, with Azrael staring intently at Wil, Wil staring blankly at Elizabeth and Elizabeth staring quizzically at Azrael.
It became too much. "You have a very fine residence here, Azrael." And when he did not immediately react. "Azrael!" I just remarked that you have a fine residence here!"
"Huh?! What? Oh, yes. Why thank you, my dear. I hope it is too your liking." He looked at Elizabeth when he spoke, but then returned his attention to Wil as soon as he had finished.
"Why yes, it is indeed. It is indeed. It is rather grand. Where is it situated, exactly?"
"Oh, there and thereabouts." He did not even glance at her this time.
"I see." Elizabeth flicked a glance at Wil, who was looking at some spot on the wall behind her, before focusing on Azrael again. She felt a flush begin to rise within her. Azrael's expression as he looked at Wil was beginning to cause some discomfort as she realized what it was. As best she was able, Elizabeth held her emotions in check.
"I would like to notify my Ma'ma and Pa'pa that I am safe and well."
"I will put my man on to it at once." He flicked a glance at her and gave a slight smile.
"Thank you, my dear Azrael." The appellation suddenly had a hollow ring to it. "How soon will it be before we can return home?"
"It is impossible to say. We must be quite sure that it is safe for you to return." He looked at Elizabeth for a longer time, but his smile was one of condescension, as though Elizabeth was nothing more than a distraction that must be tolerated. "Until that time I hope you will enjoy my hospitality and that we can find some way of...entertaining you. Won't we, Wil?"
Wil glanced at him briefly but said nothing, returning to her blank gaze. Her eyes turned to Elizabeth and for a moment she looked as though she were about to say something, but she did not and looked away again. Elizabeth's voice was tinged with the emotion that welled up within her. This was all going wrong, horribly wrong. Far from being the romantic reunion with her beloved Azrael that she had envisaged, Azrael was instead behaving very oddly and seemed to have eyes only for Wilhelmina. She was beginning to understand that it was Wil that Azrael was interested in, not her. And probably had been all along.
"I see. I'm sure you're hospitality will be most agreeable, Azrael. But at this time I am feeling a little bit tired and would like to withdraw to my room. If that is acceptable to you two?"
"No dinner, dear Elizabeth?"
"No thank you. I'm not feeling particularly hungry."
"Well in that case then, by all means." Azrael rose from his chair graciously. "I hope you will be feeling better later. We wouldn't want you to miss the entertainments, would we?"
"Of course not, Azrael." Elizabeth rose, bowed her head slightly and moved away from the table. "Goodnight, Wilhelmina," she said, somewhat stiffly.
Wil just peered out at her from those slightly sunken eye-sockets, still slumped in the chair, arms crossed. She presented a picture of disinterest. Elizabeth turned and strode to the door. She was reaching for the latch when Wil spoke.
"Elizabeth."
"Yes, Wilhelmina?" Elizabeth turned to reply, and saw Wil looking at her, and Azrael staring at Wil. Wil's mouth moved twice, but on sound came out. The she found her voice.
"Just...just be careful, OK? I'll talk to you later. To make sure you're OK."
Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself, free of her growing feelings of betrayal and for just a moment.
"Thank you, Wilhelmina. And I would very much like to talk to you later. We have much to tell each other I suspect." And with one final glance an Azrael, who did not even look at her, Elizabeth left the dining room with as much dignity as she could muster.
Fletch was waiting out in the hallway for her, and did not seem at all surprised by Elizabeth's arrival. He merely nodded to her and with a "this way, M'Lady", indicated the direction of her room. Elizabeth nodded mutely in return, the tightness at her throat making her unwilling to risk speech, and proceeded down the corridor. Fletch settled in at her side, keeping pace with her this time.
Elizabeth barely registered the journey back to her room. She walked mechanically, not even really thinking about anything-her mind was strangely numb. The unexpected arrival at her door was a mild surprise. Fletch opened the door and now indicated for her to enter, which she dutifully did. After politely inquiring whether there was anything more he could do for her, and learning that there was nothing, Fletch drew her attention to the existence of the servant's bell and withdrew, leaving her alone.
Elizabeth sat there in silence for some minutes, perched on her bed and staring at her toes. Then the tears came.
Continued in Chapter 10
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