Gothic Redemption

And the way they were dressed. The fabrics were colourful, some of them were shiny and others plush. They had both changed for dinner and while his clothes were monotone, they were fancy. The lady was dressed in a tapestry of pattern that fitted like a second skin from her waist to her neck but ruffled at the sleeves. Number Three was amazed and could hardly believe that clothes could be so decorative. She refrained from touching the dress to feel it for herself. Even her hair was extraordinary and was twisted at the side of her head that became part of her elaborate headwear. What a waste it was to masquerade their deformities.

"This is a pretty one. I'll have some of this," the hunchback bellowed as he grabbed her ass while she delivered plates to the table.

"Sir, if I knew you were that easy to please, I wouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

"We got a live one here," he laughed, "but we can beat that out of her."

The lady and His Lordship laughed but Number Three began to feel something familiar somehow. She carried herself proudly and flaunted herself, feeling the sway of her hips. She was aware that she was being watched and she bent over rather than bend down. She took quick glimpses back as they overtly inspected her and she almost managed a smile. Attention was the last thing she should have wanted but she craved it and found strength from it.

"Are you daft?" Number One asked privately in the kitchen, "Why would you encourage their ardour?"

"They do not need any courage from me and will do as they please, despite me."

"Then, do not enflame their spite," Number One warned.

Number Three stood there, wearing a silly grin. That grin dropped as she thought about the evening to come but she continued to think she could manipulate the situation. She went back to the dining room and waited off to the side, observing and contemplating. Time proved to be her enemy as they pushed their chairs back and lifted themselves from the table. She still had not discovered their weakness. His Lordship whispered a few words into Number One's ear while Number Two and Number Three cleared the table.

"We have little time. His Lordship and his guests will return soon." Number One mentioned anxiously.

They rushed through the cleaning and fed the scraps that weren't worthy for themselves to the hogs. Number One led her sisters to the torture chamber where they waited in silence for far too long. Number Three was eager to ask what the guests expected but knew that she was better off ignorant. Nothing good has ever been in this castle and this room was it's dark heart. It's stagnant air stank of all the evil of decades past. The blood of generations permeated the stone and wood. She lost confidence in herself and her feeble plan. The door creaked open and she trembled as she saw the determination in their faces.

"Remove your clothes," His Lordship ordered.

The three of them did as they were told and vainly tried to hide their naked skin with their arms and hands against the piercing eyes. Number Three looked into those eyes and defied the inevitability of her circumstances. She dropped her arms to the side, giving them full view of her magnificent, scarred body.

The hunchback yelled, "I'll whip that smile off your face," displaying the coiled whip in his hand.

"No," pleaded his woman companion, "Please, allow me."

The hunchback took his time to decide but, eventually, gestured politely. The woman walked up to and raised her hand to Number Three's face. Number Three flinched almost imperceptibly, expecting to be slapped but only received a gentle touch on the cheek.

" Such a pretty girl. Such a pity. I'm going to enjoy this." the woman said quietly before she slapped that pretty face.

The woman was stronger than she looked and knocked Number Three to the floor. While she was still laying on the cold stone floor, Number Three felt the weight of a foot on her neck.

"You seem to have lost your smile," the voice above her mocked.

Number Three could not answer and, even if she could, was more concerned about Number One being shackled to the chains as the hunchback stood back. With a flick of his arm, the whip cracked loudly in the air. The second hit it's naked target and the snap of the whip was followed by a scream.

She didn't know what came over her. She reacted without thinking. Her hand chopped at the back of the knee above her and she squirmed away before the woman fell on top of her. She rolled onto her feet and momentum caused her to tackle into the beast with the whip, who crashed against the wall. She was as astounded as anybody and had no idea what to do next. All eyes were on her, hardly believing what they saw, except the hunchback. He was angry beyond reason. His eyes reminded her of a wolf fighting over a carcass.

"Do you know what eviscerate means, little girl," he said, pulling a knife out of a sheath on his belt and pointing, "It's when I cut you from here to there and let the guts spill out."

"No. Stop him!" Number Two screamed, "Please, stop him."

Number Three was too scared to look away but wondered about the useless words. How was she supposed to stop him? The words weren't meant for her.

"That's enough!" His Lordship roared, drawing his guest's attention.

"You have gone tame but I have not. I will have my revenge."

"Not in my house," His Lordship responded as he drew his own knife.

The hunchback paused, but only for a moment, and took another step toward his intended victim. What happened next seemed like a blur, perhaps because of the speed, perhaps because it was too difficult to believe. There was a clash of metal and, suddenly, His Lordship stood behind his guest with his knife to his throat.

"Drop your knife and I'll let you live. Get out! Gather your belongings and leave." he ordered, looking at the woman still on the floor.

When the woman reached the door, His Lordship released his grip and his guest followed out the door with a few last words.

"You'll pay for this. You will learn what power truly means."

His Lordship whispered at nobody, "You have no idea."

It was then that Number Three noticed the wet spoton his black vest. It was blood. In the few steps it took to reach him, she managed to catch him as he collapsed. Number Two was only a step behind her and helped lower him to the floor. Together, they unbuttoned his clothes and exposed his wound for care. It was barely more than a scratch. She looked up at his face, puzzled, but was quickly shocked. His hair had gone from the darkest black to streaks of grey and he seemed frail and weak. Even his eyes had faded to deepest green.

He looked at Number Three and breathed "Thank you. " It was his last. His chest, which had been heaving for air, stopped. His eyes stared, unblinking at the ceiling.

"What's going on?" Number One yelled, still in the shackles and with her back to them.

Her two younger sisters could not respond. Words seemed inadequate and excessive at the same time. They were paralysed by their own confusion.

"Get me out of these," Number One yelled again shaking them out of their stupor.

As Number Two stood up, Number One brushed her fingers over his eyelids, closing them. All three of them just stood there but not one of them asked the question that occupied their minds, "What do we do now?" It was as close as they got to grief. Number Three felt she was to blame. This was never in her plan. The carvings in the door didn't indicate anything about death. She slowly began to realize that it was never her plan and she just played her role. It was silly of her to think she could direct her own fate. He had outlived his own life and found the death that had been forsaken.

She felt a tug at her shoulders and was led, barely conscious, to the dining room table. A goblet was placed in front of her and filled with wine, left over from the dinner.

"To freedom," Number One cheered with raised goblet.

"To freedom," the other two repeated, surprised by the change of mood.

They drank their wine quickly and returned to the cask for refills. Memories came flooding back, some painful and some confusing but she recalled how she got here and the sacrifice she made. Apparently, so did her sisters.

"What about the village?" Number Two blurted.

"They will have to fight their own demons." Number Three suggested, "And we will be there to help."

"You mean, leave here?" Number One asked.

"This place is tainted."

"I have family there," Number Two said and began to cry.

The tears were contagious as all three of them recalled their pasts. They were not tears of pain and hurt but the only way they could cope with the swelling emotions. They drank some more and talked some more. They talked about their parents, their homes and their families.

"My name is Elizabeth. I have a younger sister and brother."

"Wrong...Elizabeth. You have three sisters."

In the morning, they buried His Lordship outside of the castle grounds and said a prayer. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

They packed the mule and cart with essentials and tied the horse to the cart. What was left belonged to the village. Elizabeth was the last one out, carrying the lash in her hand.

"We won't be needing that anymore," her sisters said in unison.

"Wait," Elizabeth suggested, "You might have to beat the Devil out of me."