The Blood Painted Cage

As promised, as soon as dusk had fallen, Vincent had woken me and ushered me moodily about the house in preparation to leave. The news of my departure did not go down too well with my maids, even worse with Viorel. At first he refused to go with Nuan and was in the grips of a fit of rage, something I did not often see from him. It took a long time to calm him down and see to reason. Eventually he saw that the most help would be was with Nuan, helping her hunt and creating a false indication to my whereabouts. As soon as he calmed down and sat dejectedly in the lounge, I went and sought my two guests who were now, along with the mess of my house, being passed into Nuan’s care.

I found Susan asleep on the floor beside her master’s bed. She sat with her knees clutched to her chest. She looked strangely small; lost and scared. Nothing like the strong headed witch child I had grown to love. I had allowed myself to briefly comfort her by throwing a thin quilt over her small body before I finished what I had started a couple of weeks ago. Without Susan’s knowledge, I sealed off her matter. She would be furious when she woke up but Lucius would know how to deal with her. If he was strong enough to listen to her rant that is. He hadn’t woken since the attack but his almost fatal wounds were now just about healed. He would be fine, I knew. Even if he would now be addicted to Susan’s blood. I would need to keep a very close eye on both of them to ensure they remained safe. If they weren’t careful, it could go very wrong.

So, after a rather slow start to the evening, Vince and I were thrown on a plane and were now in damp southern England, standing just before the home he had left over four years ago.

I stood outside the crumbling house that was now the remains of the Blackburn house. It was falling apart. The windows were smashed, the front door was just about hanging to its frame and creepers littered the great stone face. It was a sad place and one I doubted life would exist within it. Because of this it made me very doubtful that Vincent’s sister would still be here, if she was alive. I glanced up at Vincent and frowned when I saw his scowl was darker than usual. Obviously he had the same thoughts as I.

Gently I took his large hand in mine and linked our fingers together in comfort. His eyes briefly glanced down to me but whether they held any warmth I couldn’t tell. Instead I concentrated on Vincent’s old home as he guided me up the broken steps. I wanted him to hurry and get inside. I could feel the sun coming and if I did not get Vincent to a place where its rays could not touch him, he would be in danger. I am not sure how many safe places there were in this house but there had to be one room still bathed in shadow.

As I was so deep in thought, I was not paying much attention to my surroundings when we entered the ruined hall so when Vincent growled sharply and shoved me behind him, I was quite shocked. The sound of shattering glass filled my ears and made me flinch.

“You!” A slurred high pitched voice echoed sharply in the lightening darkness. “You dare come back here!”

Intrigued, I peered around Vince as I was held in place by his hand and could not move from behind him. I was truly shocked to see, standing at the top of the tattered stairs, was a small child. She wore simple torn clothes and her black hair was a tangled nest but the familiar scowl and olive skin was all I needed to see to confirm who I thought she was. This child was Vincent’s sister. And she was really quite drunk.

It surprised me at how young she was, in fact it bewildered me. Nuan and the Elders had said she was quite old, maybe seven years, and mentally powerful enough to resist a Silver’s influence. To see such a small child who apparently liked to drink a little too much confused me thoroughly. This girl was nothing I had thought of when trying to imagine Vincent’s younger sister.

I watched in bewilderment as the girl swayed threateningly but she managed to save herself by hugging the banister.

“I thought you said you were going to cut down on your alcohol, Elizabeth.” Vincent said blandly.

“I was until you screwed everything up!” She yelled furiously and threw another beer bottle at him for good measure. He caught it smoothly but his irritation was growing. “And where have you been?” She demanded savagely before she caught sight of me being calmly guarded by her brother. A strange look of disbelief and loathing filled Elizabeth’s childish face. “You’ve been screwing around? You left me alone to go waltz off and play around!”

Vincent let out a snarl and took a step back to protect me when Elizabeth began to stumble down the stairs. She staggered forward with a beer bottle still partially full and came to an abrupt halt in front of us. Her large tired eyes stared at me and she titled her head as she scrutinised me thoroughly, completely ignoring the infuriated scowl she was receiving from Vincent.

“She’s nothing like what you used to bring home.” She slurred before she pointed at me with the beer bottle in hand. “I tell you now, woman, that we Blackburns feel no love. We stand alone without the need of someone to stand beside us. That is our way!” She declared and stumbled slightly. “So I suggest you leave now. Many times have I had to kick out women who have grown too attached to my brothers when they want nothing to do with them. So leave.” She finished then, quite suddenly, Elizabeth rounded back on Vincent with her anger reignited abruptly as if she hadn’t spoken to me at all. “I don’t want you back here, Vincent! Not after you abandoned me like that!”

“I had no choice Elizabeth.” Vincent growled.

“You had a choice! You could’ve stayed with me instead of leaving me alone!” She wailed. “Now look at the state of the house. Peter hasn’t done any cleaning. None at all. I keep shouting for him but he won’t do anything. He just stays outside. In the ground. Dead.” Raising the half full beer bottle, she smashed it onto the floor roughly before glaring up at her brother with angry tear filled eyes. “You killed him, Vincent. You killed our baby brother and then you left me to bury him alone! And now you reappear with some harlot years later!” Elizabeth shouted hotly before she suddenly melted onto the floor and burst into tears.

I felt something open in Vincent’s mind and a horrible feeling filled him. Guilt, regret, pain and sorrow; all those negative feelings I had only ever sensed in him the first night I met him in my dungeons.

Hesitantly, he knelt down beside her and gently took the small child into his arms. Elizabeth clung to him and cried hard into his shirt, all the while spitting out any insult that came to her drunken mind, not bothering whether or not it made sense.

“I hate you so much Vincent.” She wailed then rambled off into something unintelligible.

I watched with sad eyes as Elizabeth cried herself to sleep, mumbling about how much she hated him and how much she missed Peter, their dead brother. I vaguely understood why he never wanted to return to this place after being in the First Penalty for four years. He knew his sister was still alive but couldn’t face the justified rage she was undoubtedly feeling. Vincent may be a powerful man but emotionally he had his weak spots. What happened to his family was obviously one of them and he could not face it.

Silently I stepped away when Vincent gathered his sister into his arms and cradled the tiny body close to him.

“Come with me.” He muttered without looking at me.

Obediently, I followed him through the small decaying house. Numerous claw marks littered the old wallpapered walls. Whether they were the remains of Elizabeth’s rage or some sort of fight, I didn’t know and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. Chairs and furniture were broken and all family paintings from the old times were tattered and destroyed. This house died four years ago when Vincent vanished and Peter was buried, leaving Elizabeth to drown her misery through drink. It wasn’t a happy place and made my heart feel quite heavy.

Vincent took me into one of the large bedrooms. Beer bottles littered the floor and clothes, all dirty, were flung on the bed and in the open wardrobe. The windows had been nailed closed with wood and the moth eaten curtains were just about clinging to their railings.

I stepped about carefully, observing the mess Elizabeth had been living in for the last few years, while Vincent made room on the bed for his small sister’s body and pulled the musty quilt over her. As soon as Elizabeth was comfortable, he gave the room one glance then grew very angry quite rapidly. I felt it explode within him, like his guilt and sorrow just snapped and morphed. With a deep growl, he turned and stormed out of them room with a murderous intent. Fearing that he intended to go outside when the sun was just rising over the world, I darted after him and let my mind slip around his legs to immobilise him. I came to stand in front of him, trying my hardest to hold the ferocity of his eyes.

“You do like stopping me at the moment, don’t you?” He snarled dangerously.

My face flushed but I still managed to hold the eye contact. “Where are you going?”

“Hunting.”

“For what?”

“The man who destroyed my family.” He snapped, baring his fangs at me irritably.

“I already told you, Vincent. The people who have done this went to ground.” I said softly. “There is no point chasing someone who just doesn’t want to be found yet.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the mean time?” He shouted.

“Look after Elizabeth. She needs you and you need her. Let me do the hunting and, as I promised you all those years ago, I will tell you as soon as I find anything about who poisoned you.” I told him then, very hesitantly, reached up and let my hands cup his face. I stared at him with my fear laid bare on my face. “Just go back to Elizabeth’s room. Don’t go outside when the sun is nearly up. You’ll just get yourself killed.” I pleaded quietly.

Vince continued to scowl at me but I knew he was considering what I had told him. Suddenly, his eyes appeared less calculating and more irritated.

“Fine.” He growled darkly.

With a faint sigh of relief I let him go and watched him as he turned around and retreated back down the corridor. I followed him with soft footsteps and my eyes never left his broad back as he kicked the bottles to one side and sat heavily in the chair opposite his sister’s bed. He leaned forward so he could lean on his elbows and let his fingers entangled in his curled dark hair. Knowing that was a sign that was not any happier than he was before he tried to leave, I approached him carefully, letting him have enough time to stop me if he didn’t want me any closer. I sat beside him when I heard nothing from him and leant my head against his leg, watching the softly snoring child in the depths of her large bed. Much to my surprise, Vincent began to talk to me. I had been expecting him to boil in his anger, not talk to me about his thoughts.

“Our parents died shortly after Peter’s birth so Elizabeth and I had to raise him by ourselves. We taught him everything and he turned out to be the softer one out of us oddly enough; far more romantic. Elizabeth and I were much like our parents in views of relationships; that it made us weak and stupid. Peter on the other hand enjoyed the idea of falling in love which Elizabeth hated. She often tried to beat it out of him, mostly by telling him stories of destroyed human love when she was drunk. But he was also soft in the way he didn’t like fighting. I didn’t like that especially. Our world involved fighting and he had to learn to survive. When I felt danger approaching our home, I took Peter out to meet it.” He shifted slightly, letting his chin rest on his hands and he glared darkly at the wall on the other side of the room. “We both ended up poisoned. Peter died in his room a day or so after the fight and throughout those days I felt something strange happening to me. I had continuous blackouts and a strange irritation at everything. Once Peter died, I felt a horrible need to kill. I even wanted to rip out Elizabeth’s throat. I knew something was really wrong then and fled, leaving her alone.” He trailed off into a gloomy silence, leaving me to fill in the gaps with what I knew.

He was hunted for a couple of months after that having killed Susan’s family. Four years after his capture he was kept locked away in his nightmares before I let him out a few months ago. Now he was here, in the remains of his broken home and in the face of his guilt at having abandoned his sister and the self-loathing at the belief that he had led his gentle brother to his death.

“You tried to do what was best for him. The enemy was just stronger than you thought.” I said softly and rubbed my forehead against his leg in comfort. I peered up at him when I received no reply then frowned when he hadn’t moved at all. He just continued to scowl.

“Why don’t you sleep for a while, Vince?” I suggested. “I can keep an eye out for any danger.”

Vincent glanced down at me before he wordlessly leaned back in the chair and did as he was asked without argument. I let my fingers trail up and down his leg as I listened to both siblings sleep. I felt around the dead house for any dangers that could pose as a threat to us and tried my best not to let myself dwell on sad thoughts.