Silent Angel Crashes Through the Sky

William had seen her finally. She was in his home.

When Synyster had brought her in, and he saw her mangled, bloody, cold, lifeless body, William was absolutely furious. Without hesitation he had attacked Synyster, his rage clouding his vision and thoughts. He probably would have killed him if not for her faint heart beat. As William was brutalizing Synyster, he heard the far-off thudding of her heart and his mind opened up again.

Luckily for Synyster, of course.

So, he lifted himself back up, fixing his disheveled clothes and hair, and walking to Clark with grace and dignity.

He told Synyster, “go back to Peter. Make sure it’s done.” Synyster snarled and gnashed his teeth at him, but William payed no mind to him. He focused on Clark. The scent of her blood flooded his senses, and he could feel the rest of the world starting to fall away. He was pretty sure that Synyster had left, but did not care enough to check.

William fixed her clothes and her arms, which were unceremoniously folded underneath her body, which he assumed Synyster had merely tossed onto the bed. He leaned into her neck, which was still covered in drying blood, and breathed deeply. Without realizing what he was doing, he found himself licking at the blood slowly. The taste of her blood, even though it was old and dried, was mind-numbing. He had never felt this way before. He lusted for her so completely he had to step back from her and regain his thoughts.

He took in a few deep breaths, staring at Clark’s pale face. He closed the curtains around the bed and lit the candle on the nightstand for her. He left the room, debating locking the door. He held the door knob for a second or two, and the thought of her waking and wandering the castle made him smile so wide he knew it would be better to keep it unlocked. Give her a sense of… hope. False hope was the most gratifying kind that there ever was. At least, for William.

He dismissed the two vampires who were standing guard outside of the room. They would not be needed. They would only get in the way.

He made his way back to his office to read. But, as he reached his office, he was met at the door by Michelle, who was leaning against the door with folded arms.

“You wanted to see me, Monsieur,” she stated quietly and respectfully, unfolding her arms to face him. William smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

“Yes, please come in.” She moved away from the door and followed him into his office. He sat behind the desk. “Sit. Please.” She sat down in the black leather arm chair in front of his desk. William’s office was old and quiet, and smelled of books and metal. His desk was neat and organized, covered with books in old languages, papers, and pens. He reached to the furthest pile of books and recovered a brown leather journal from the middle of the stack. Michelle sat up straighter, her jawline tensing noticabley.

“Why did you take my journal, William?” she asked, her voice raising as her accent started to seep in.

“I needed to make sure. I’ve been having… trouble. With my children lately. I’ve gone through everyone’s belongings. Just to make sure.” Michelle took in a breath, trying to keep calm, but not being able to push away the anger.

“I have done nothing wrong,” she said slowly. William’s lips twitched into a cruel smile.

“But you know someone who has. Don’t you?” William tossed the diary to the opposite edge of his desk, to her. She did not reach for it. She blinked slowly. “Who is this ‘he’ you keep mentioning? You never name the ones you talk about. Just ‘he.’ And I can either start guessing or you can save me the trouble.” William leaned onto his desk, putting his elbows down and his fists under his chin. Michelle did not say anything, her stomach churning with anxiety. She did not let it show.

“Je peux pas, Monsieur. Vous ne comprenez pas.” William rolled his eyes.

“Of course you can. Don’t be stupid.” Her eyes met his. They were cold and determined. She didn’t know what else to do. “This man that you have been following is a traitor. He is working against me. You know I know who it is. Don’t. Make. Me. Guess.” Michelle felt her throat go dry.

“Monsieur, s’il vous-” William slammed his hand on the desk.

“Shut up.” He glared into her eyes for what felt like forever. She ground her teeth together, breathing heavily as she felt her emotions start to slip and slide. William brought his hand back to its original position underneath his chin. “Your punishment for lying to me will be death. I will not allow traitors to live under my roof. You have five seconds to tell me who he is. Five.” Michelle’s eyes widened as her head spun. “Four.” She closed her eyes, thinking of him. “Three.” She couldn’t give him away. Not Brendon. He’d been so good to her. “Two.” She opened her eyes.

“What will you do to him?” William hesitated.

“He will be staked today. I don’t have time for stupid inquisitions.” She bit her lip.

“Will it be excruciating for him?” He rolled his eyes slowly.

“Probably.” Michelle closed her eyes and nodded. She buried her face in her hands, feeling tears sting her eyes. She took in a breath, feeling guilt choke her.

“It’s Jacob.” William looked at her surprised. He lowered his arms from the desk, narrowing his eyes.

“Jacob.” Michelle burst into tears, fearful that he would not believe her.

“Pardonnez-moi. Monsieur, pardonnez-moi.” William sat there for a moment, confused. He was so sure that it was… He let his stony appearance soften. He stood up and walked slowly towards her.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Michelle.” He put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her. He ran a hand through her hair gently. “You are excused now, my dear. Do not give this conversation another thought.” She looked up at him with sorrow behind her eyes. He gave her an ugly smile, suddenly tightening his grip on her shoulders and leaning into her ear. “However, if I find out that you have lied to me, I will make your death so excruciating you will beg me for the end,” he whispered menacingly.

Her tears fell quietly as she gazed at the wall of his study. She pictured Brendon. Turning to ashes as she screamed.

“I am not lying to you, William. Please. Just let me go now.” Her accent had gone as quickly as it appeared. William gave her a suddenly pleasant smile, removing his hands.

“Of course. Be on your way.” He placed her journal in her hands, patting her shoulder. She looked down at it, tightening her grip on the cold leather. “And… Michelle. If you see Brendon… tell him I would like to see him. I have not received his reports yet this week.” She stood up, nodding, bowed quickly, and left.

She walked down the halls for about five minutes, not really going anywhere. She finally stopped, and leaned up against a wall, breathing heavily. She scrunched her eyes shut tightly, trying to rid her mind of Brendon disintegrating.

She narrowly escaped death. And she had almost gotten Brendon killed. What a terrifying life this was.

She looked down at her diary. She would have to burn it. All that history and all those stories. Gone. Just like she would be one day. Oh well.

“C’est la vie,” she whispered. She brought it back to her room, throwing it onto her bed, and quickly heading off to find Brendon. She let her emotions fade away and her coy smile slide back. She needed to stomp out the emotions that made her weak. There was no room for such things in her life. Brendon could never know.

She walked with confidence and grace. A Dandy through and through.

All she needed to do was tell Brendon that William wanted to see him.

And then she needed to destroy her life’s story.