by Devin Graham
* * *
Lord William Baryon, the man who apparently made it his business to kill servants and steal souls from old friends, shoveled the last of the dirt onto the mound which was now her father's grave.
Renette's guardsman, Riggins, drove his own shovel into the ground, where it stuck. Standing rigid beside it, he stared down at the grave with a solemn face. He shook his head.
Renette had never asked the man how he came to be one of her father's personal guards, but it had always been clear to her that the guardsman had been indebted to her father somehow. She turned her eyes away from Riggins and to the lord, William, whose face was equally solemn. Unlike Riggins, there was no hint of pain behind the lord's solemnity. It was only grimness, as though the look befit him.
What had he lost this night that she was not seeing?
What is the man's game? Renette wondered. Why kill my servant, then try to save my father?
William raised his eyes to meet hers and she quickly glanced away, down at her father's grave.
Why had her father even been... She could not even think the thought. She was too numb to even cry anymore. And by his oldest friend?
None of this entire night made sense to her. It was all just madness. Madness which was, as far as she could tell, brought by William Baryon. It was not right to place all the blame on Lord William. She knew that. However, she needed someone at whom to direct the anger she felt beneath the numbness.
What about yourself? she asked herself.
The ball had been thrown for her, after all. If she had only just done her duty and found a suitor, without throwing a tantrum every time it had been mentioned to her... Perhaps my father would still be alive.
“How?” Renette asked the question before she even realized her lips were moving to say the word. She glanced up toward William, who seemed to suddenly tense. The lord began fidgeting with his hands, then looked down at them and pulled them apart.
“How...?” he asked after a few seconds.
“How did you know my father was being...targeted...tonight?” William's demeanor relaxed a bit at the question. He had been expecting her to ask something else. Renette frowned. How could he steal souls? “And how did you know my servant was a assassin—as you called him?” she asked instead.
“I've been tracking these assassins, these...”
“Monsters?” Renette finished. “The one that...did something to Charles's body.”
“Yes,” William nodded. “I've been tracking these monsters for quite a while. I assume you've heard of the past two noblemen to have been killed while hosting events such as this?”
Renette nodded, feeling shocked. “The mysterious murders,” she said. “They were done by...?”
Again, William nodded. “They take over a person's body, and cause him to do whatever they want him to do. A de...a monster had taken your servant.”
“Why do you not name the monsters?” Renette asked. “It's clear you know what they are.”
“Some things are best kept secret, Miss Renette,” Riggins answered, instead. “I think the lord's got the right idea. The less we're involved, the safer it will be for you. That means less answers for the both of us.” At that, Riggins gave Lord William a hard look.
“Yes,” William said, “less answers.”
“How do I know it was not you taking control over Charles and my servant?” Renette asked. “I mean, I saw...I saw you...his soul.”
William tensed again.
“You will just have to trust me, I suppose,” he said.
“I don't.”
“Good.”
Renette furrowed her brows. Then, her eyes trailed back to her father's grave. He was gone. She was alone, never to hear his voice again, never to share the day's events with him, never to laugh with him. She felt her anger seeping through the numbness.
“Will you continue to track them?” she asked, setting her jaw.
“To the ends of the world,” William said, his expression growing even grimmer.
“Can I come with you?” She knew it was a foolish question the moment she asked it, but she did not care. She wanted to see the monsters who killed her father in pain. She wanted to cause the pain. Images flashed in her mind, of things so violent that they frightened her. Things she wanted do to the monsters. Things she had not known herself capable of thinking. She was supposed to be a lady.
“No,” William said, at the same time Riggins said it.
Both men looked to one another, as though trying to decide on which should speak first.
“I dedicated my life to protect this family,” Riggins said, taking the lead. “My oath does not void because your father was... Anyway, I must think of your protection above all else, at all times, Miss Renette. Going with the lord would be suicide.”
“He is right,” William said. “What skill would you have against these monsters?”
Renette was silent. She knew they were both right.
“I can promise you,” William continued, “that, though I could not save your father, I will avenge his death for you—and every other man or woman dead because of them. I will put an end to them.”
Renette found that she believed him.
“Now,” William said, pulling a pocket watch out from his suit jacket and checking it, “we really must be getting ready. The morning train leaves within the hour.”
Renette looked toward the horizon, the pale light of dawn painting the sky an eerie grey. Had so much time really passed already?
“Leave me a moment, please,” she said, looking back to the mound of dirt at her feet. “I would like to give my farewells.” From her periphery she saw William check his watch again.
“All right,” he said, “but try not to be too long.” Renette heard the rustling of the grass as Lord William started back toward the house.
“I will have one of your servants pack your things for you, Miss Renette,” Riggins said. Then, he was following behind Lord William.
Renette watched them go, until they were inside, and then she collapsed to her hands and knees. She could not cry, she could not even make a sound. She merely closed her eyes, drove her nails into the packed mound of her father's grave, and waited for the incessant aching to leave her chest. It remained, however, just as strong as it had been atop that balcony, as she knelt beside her father's headless corpse. Perhaps even stronger now.
Rage and despair and emotions she could not quite name hurled themselves at her wave after wave, crippling her very ability to move. It was a physical pain she felt in her heart. She wanted to claw both the pain and her heart from her chest, but she just knelt where she was. Frozen by emotion, just as she had been on the balcony, when her father had been helpless.
“I could do nothing,” she was able to croak out, finally. “I am sorry, father, I could do nothing to save you. I could do nothing. I could do nothing. I could do nothing... Nothing. I could... I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry.”
I could have tried, she told herself. I could have done more than scream. I...
Renette lowered her head, until her forehead was pressed against the dirt. “Father Truth, please stop the pain. Please.”
Get up, a voice that was not her own told her. She used to speak back to it, until what had happened with her mother... Get up.
She usually ignored the voice, but this time she listened and forced herself back onto her feet. She needed to get to Grey's. Her father had wanted her to go there. And, there, she might be able to find answers as to what exactly her father had gotten himself into. She needed to know that much, at least. And she had to move in order to do that. She could not allow her emotions to freeze her up.
She looked down at her dress, stained with dirt and blood. Her hands were the same, and trembling. She clenched them into fists.
Get up, the voice said.
“I'm up,” she whispered back to the voice. “I'm up.”
Continued in Part Two...
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