She rang the bell next to the door, calling for Ms. Gerald and Mrs. Wright.
The women came scurrying like trained mice, still wearing their nightgowns and holding candles. "Listen to me," Prudence said, silencing their fretting. "There are girls out of bed and wandering the halls. They've been knocking on my door all night and giggling in the shadows. I want them found and brought to me. We must make an example out of them, lest the other girls think they can get away with this sort of nightly amusement."
"Yes, Headmistress."
"Right away."
And off they scurried again. A sneer touched her lips as she watched them go. Weak, silly little women; both constantly vying for her attention and favor, hoping that it would garner them her job once she was too old. Idiots. Neither of them had the stomach for the position. They still flinched and gasped every time they saw her beat a girl. But they did have their uses, mainly as her personal dogs, sent out to fetch and retrieve.
She sat down at her table to pen a letter.
Father Carlisle,
I am having a spot of trouble with one or more students. Gerald and Wright are fetching them now. I may need a helping hand in disciplining them if you care to partake. Your particular brand of punishment seems to be remarkably effective. And I'd hate for you to miss an opportunity to practice.
Sincerely,
Prudence
P.S. The usual compensation will be insufficient in this instance, since there is more than one, and I want to set an example. Shall we say double?
Prudence sealed the envelope with dark red wax and her personal seal. As soon as those silly little hens were back with the girls, she'd send Wright out for Father Carlisle. In the meantime, she dressed herself, putting on a long, black skirt of rough, itchy fabric and a white blouse with a brooch at the neck. She pulled her hair up into a tight bun that pulled back her skin. The mirror was dark, making it difficult to see her reflection clearly, but it didn't matter. She could fix her hair in complete darkness if she needed to.
She was placing the last pins when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the darkness shift. She spun around, and a pin dropped from her grasp. It was the only sound. The stray lock of hair it was meant to hold fell around her face. "Wright? Gerald?" She stepped towards the open door, the blackness encroaching. "Who's there?"
Only silence answered.
A dull flutter went through her stomach, like a warning. She stopped. The oppressive darkness seemed to throb on the other side of the door, willing her forward. She took the lantern from the table, holding it in front of herself. She crept toward the doorway, peering into the dark hallway. She swallowed hard before stepping out, beyond her room.
Her heart thundered in her ears. Bracing herself against the stone walls, she crept along the hall, holding the lantern out as far as she could.
A loud thump sounded from behind.
She spun around just in time to see a blurry shape recede into the darkness. "Who's there? Come out and show yourself." The sound of her voice disturbing the eerie quiet only set her more on edge. Her eyes were wide and her breath came in short, panting gasps as cold fear bloomed in her stomach.
Fear. Hadn’t she outgrown such a useless emotion? She didn't know where it came from, but there it was, rooted deep in her gut. She'd always had good instincts, and she knew this time was no different. Her arm grew tired, shaking under the strain of holding out the lantern.
The dim light spilling out from her bedroom doorway beckoned to her. If she could make it there, she could lock herself inside and ring for someone else to come sort it out. But as much as she willed it, as loudly as her mind cried out for her to move, her feet remained planted on the floor. Fear gripped her so tightly she could not wrestle herself free.
Footsteps.
Footsteps in the darkness.
Slow, heavy footsteps, coming towards her.
Her whole body shook in earnest, and her mouth hung open, unable to give voice to the scream that pierced her mind.
A face appeared in the darkness, shining in the lantern's light. Beautiful and horrifying. The face contorted and twisted, grinning too widely as hands reached out for her.
Still, she did not move. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
Chapter Three
LISETTE PACED THE FLOOR, unable to stop moving. Sebastian was as calm as ever. Especially now that he had that warm and healthy glow back to his skin. Once again, he was the picture of some beautiful Greek statue. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even waiting in the headmistress’ bedroom for the old woman to wake up.
Then again, Sebastian didn't have the memories she did of this room. The desk, the bed, the chair in the corner. How many times had she been strapped to each one of them before she'd finally run away?
The headmistress enjoyed it. Punishing them. And she was creative. It never happened in the same way twice. One day it was tied to the chair while her legs were beaten with a ruler. Next time, she'd be tied to the bedpost and her back whipped. Or the worst would happen, she would be left free and unrestrained only to have Father Carlisle come in. After a while, she broke.
Once Lisette had finally given up hope, Headmistress Marsh had decided she could make better use of her. The men came and went, but Lisette would never let on, she'd never let the evil woman see the sliver of contempt and fight left in her. It was such a fragile piece of herself, so small and brittle, that Lisette knew it would have been beaten out in minutes. She had to push it down and hide it, save it for another day. And now, that day had finally come. Lisette ground her teeth together, her lips a hard line.
"Patience, my dear," Sebastian said. He was staring at her, his eyes narrow and excited. "She cannot sleep much longer. Trust me."
"No." Lisette snatched the letter opener from the desk and lunged for where the headmistress lay.
"Stop!" he said, his voice booming through the room. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.
"Ahhh!" she cried out, dropping the weapon. His grip felt like a vice.
He immediately released her wrist, stepping back. "I'm sorry." He looked away. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to wait."
Her wrist glowed an angry red, showing a perfect imprint of his hand. "What..." The question hung on the tip of her tongue. What are you? Was it her imagination, or did he just give a slight shake of his head?
"Why?" she demanded. "Why must we wait?"
"Because my dear," he said, stepping forwards, slipping gloves onto his hands. "A quick death is a gift. Do you have such affection for her?"
"Fine!"
He stepped up to her, reaching his hand for her wrist again. She flinched away from his touch. A look of hurt flickered across his face. She swallowed, offering it to him. Bending down, he placed his lips against her tender, stinging skin. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
A flutter began in the pit of her stomach, soaring upwards. She pulled her hand away and nodded. It had been years since anyone had apologized for the hurt they'd caused. "An accident." Her wrist still throbbed. The rest of her body was alight with a different kind of ache.
From behind her, on the bed, the headmistress stirred, groaning.
For a moment terror replaced the warmth in Lisette's body. Now that Headmistress Marsh was waking, Lisette couldn't help but remember the raw fear she’d always felt in her presence. She'd spent so many years under her control, jumping when she said jump, cowering from her thrashings. Lisette stepped back.
With a quick jerk of the head, the headmistress awoke. "What—what's happened?" she moaned, still groggy. She lifted her head and caught sight of Lisette and Sebastian. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" She writhed on the bed, struggling against the ropes that bound her arms to the posts. "What the hell is this?"
Sebastian held a finger to his lips and hushed her.
Headmistress Marsh fell silent, her lips curling into a snarl that promised revenge.
"In answer to your questions, Prudence, who we are is of little
importance. Our purpose in being here is your death. And the manner in which it occurs depends entirely on my companion, so I would choose your words carefully."
At that, Prudence seemed to notice Lisette for the first time. Those cold, hard eyes landed on her and sent frozen shivers through her spine. She felt her courage melt away under that steely gaze and stepped further back into the shadows.
Sebastian saw her retreat. If he thought less of her for it, he didn't show it. "Do you recognize her?" he asked the headmistress, turning back to the bed
Prudence didn't move.
"You may answer, but don't even consider screaming."
"No," she said through her clenched teeth, as though struggling.
"A pity then that she remembers you so well."
Tears stung Lisette's eyes. How many had there been if Prudence didn't even recall her face? How many girls had passed through this room, leaving no mark whatsoever on the headmistress’ memory, while taking their own scars with them?
Lisette swallowed hard. "Do you still bring girls here?" Her voice was little more than a whisper but it carried across the silent room.
Understanding swept over Prudence's face. Her eyes narrowed and hardened even more. They were filled with as much hate as Lisette felt in her core.
"Only when one requires discipline."
Sebastian hadn't taken his eyes off her. "Truthfully now."
Prudence flinched, struggling until she finally gave up, her body going slack. "The ones that deserve it."
Lisette gnashed her teeth. "And who deserved it? What could a girl possibly do to deserve your abuse?"
"They came here wanton, all of them. I see it in their eyes. Just like Jane. They were no angels, no good little girls. They were no virgins. I just put them to work."
Lisette rushed forward and struck her. The headmistress' face was softer than she ever could have thought possible. Her skin thin and papery. Lisette slapped her again. Blood and spittle flew from her mouth, staining the white pillow next to her. A rush of adrenaline filled her. "Do it," she said, staring at the woman.
"As you wish," Sebastian said, pulling her back. He took her place by the old woman’s side.
Lisette moved around to the other side of the bed, not taking her eyes off Prudence. She watched eagerly, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
"Close your eyes," Sebastian said, seating himself on the edge of the mattress.
Prudence pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.
A thin knife gleamed in Sebastian's hand as his other hand shot out, taking Prudence by the chin. "Close your eyes, or I will pluck them out."
The evil, hateful look drained from her eyes as she looked between Lisette and Sebastian. Fear filled them again. She lowered her lashes, obeying finally.
Sebastian leaned in close to her ear, pressing his hand into the pillow on the side of her head. He whispered something to Prudence, too quiet for Lisette to hear. Prudence's eyes snapped back open, and her face twisted. Her lips formed around a silent moan, and her eyes were wide and horror-struck. Though Lisette hadn't heard the words Sebastian whispered, she remembered well her own conversations with him. He knew things he never should have. And that voice. He could convince a starving man give over his last crumb of bread. Whatever he had whispered into Prudence's ear had meant something to her. Something powerful and painful. Good.
A choked, strangled cry was wrung from the headmistress’ chest as she stared up at the bed's canopy. Her body shook as sobs escaped her throat. Tears streaked her face as her mouth twisted in agony. This was a kind of torture that Lisette herself could never have predicted, let alone administer. She looked away.
The headmistress' wracking sobs were cut short by a sudden gasp followed by a sickening gurgling sound.
Lisette covered her ears, pinching her eyes shut.
Moments later, Sebastian touched her arm.
"Is it over?"
He nodded. "Look," he said, pointing behind her.
She shook her head.
"You must look, Lisette." He grasped her shoulders. Even through his gloves, which usually always protected her from his touch, his hands were frozen. "You're free of her."
Lisette turned and looked upon her tormentor, now broken and hollow. Prudence's eyes stared blankly at the wall and her mouth hung open. She was pale, as though she'd been dead for hours already but there wasn't a mark on her. No evidence or wound that said how she'd died. Lisette shuttered as she looked upon her. "Free?"
"Yes." His cool breath kissed the tender skin of her neck.
She turned, easing herself away from his touch. "We should go."
He nodded. "I will take you to the coach, but I have to finish here."
"What more could you possibly do?"
"Look around you, Lisette. If people find this, they will want an answer. We should give them a clear and easily arrived at one, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?"
He handed over an envelope. She hurried to read it, her lip curling in a sneer as she did. It was from Prudence to Father Carlisle. She crumpled the letter, tossing it on the bed next to the corpse. "You've thought of everything."
He smiled, and she couldn't tell if it was mocking or genuine. "Of course." He sighed at the look on her face. “I was going to wait, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out something long...a necklace.
Lisette gasped. “Is that—”
“Your locket,” he asked, holding it out in his hand for her. “Yes.”
“But how did you know?”
“What does that matter? You have it back.”
She took it from his icy-cold hand, a shudder moving through her. She had thought she’d never see it again. She opened it, seeing her picture there on one side. Once, the locket had contained pictures of both Lisette and her beloved Richard. She’d taken his picture years earlier, after finally giving up the hope he would come to rescue her.
“Are you happy to see it?”
Her head felt weighted, like an anchor. But she gave a slow nod. "Why are you doing this?"
"You wanted it."
"But why me? Why do you care?"
He sighed. "You should go back to the coach. It won't take me a minute to finish."
"That's just it! It's an impossible feat for any normal human and yet I have no doubt that you could in fact set this up in under a minute."
His lips straightened into a hard line. "A slight exaggeration on my part. Don't look any further into it."
"Or what? You'll do the same to me?" she said, pointing to the corpse on the bed.
"Don’t be ridiculous."
"It’s ridiculous now, but what about when all this is over, and I’ve had my revenge? Is that what you're planning for me? Is that the price for all of this?"
His nostrils flared. "No."
"Then what? What is all this for?"
He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her towards the door. "Go down to the coach. Willard will take you to the train. And keep your voice down for Christ's sake!" His tone was as cold as his hands.
"You clearly have the capability and the lack of morals to kill whoever you want, why make a deal with me? Why not kill me now and lay me next to Prudence."
He whipped her around to face him. "Don't tempt me!" Then he tossed her from the room, slamming the door behind.
The darkness closed in around her.
As soon as Lisette was out of the coach and back on the train, she rushed to her compartment and lunged for the place under the table where she kept her liquor. Kneeling before it, she pulled out all the bottles, covering the tabletop with them. She'd barely pried the lid off the gin bottle before it was upturned in her mouth. It burned, painfully, deliciously. The clear liquid ran from the corners of her mouth and down her cheeks. She tossed the empty bottle aside and grabbed the next.
This time she took a slow, deep drink as she locked the compartment door. She wouldn’t be disturbed,
not now. She wanted to drown herself, to choke out any memory of what just happened from her mind. That room with all its horrors, the twisted look on the headmistress’ face. She wanted to pickle herself in booze to the point of not even knowing her name. Upturning the bottle, she settled back against the side of the bed, sitting on the floor.
Drink after drink softened her senses, weakening the emotion and the thoughts behind them, but not extinguishing them. There they remained, driven back to the recesses of her mind, but ever-present.
The wailing. That soft, sick gurgling sound.
Lisette’s hand went to her throat. That wouldn't be her fate; she wouldn't allow it. There wasn't much she had any control over, but her life wasn't forfeit to Sebastian. Not yet, at least. She grabbed for another bottle, but her clumsy hands knocked it off the table. Blurred, wavering vision made getting the topper out difficult, but not impossible. She looked down the open spout at the clear liquid at the end of the neck. Sweet oblivion called.
Dulled and nearly vacant, she no longer felt the bitter burning sensation as the liquid passed through her throat. She watched through her heavy, drunken gaze as the liquid drained from the bottle, down her gullet.
The bottle slipped from her hand, crashing onto the floor. Her head rolled back, settling on the bed.
"Pick her up—" a voice cried.
She felt herself move, rolling like she was caught in an ocean's wave. No...
"There, goddammit, put her there."
Her stomach churned. Fingers shoved into her mouth, down her throat.
No.
She gagged, spilling the contents of her stomach. Her nose filled with the sick stench of bile and alcohol.
The voice spoke again. "...too late. She can't—"
Yes.
"Here," he said. "Drink."
Drink, yes. That's all she'd known, the only friend she'd ever had. She felt something press into her lips and she sucked it down. But it wasn't the poisonous burn she was used to. Thick and coopery, it coated her mouth with soothing coolness. She gagged but didn't stop until he wrenched away from her grip.
A sensation, foreign to anything she'd known before, somehow both cool and warm, surged through her body. She opened her eyes and watched as her vision cleared and shapes came into focus.
Oaths in Blood: A Gothic Novella Page 3