Bride in Black

Her eyes went wide. "Help him?"

"You know, tumble his dad in bed and trick the old codger into paying for his son's fun times," the driver explained as he went back to admiring Eleanor's slim body.

Eleanor was struggling not to panic. She was in the clutches of a brute in the middle of a dark forest. This had been Otto's intention all along. She had to talk her way out of this. "I- I didn't say I wouldn't help him! I said it wasn't likely that his father would listen to me in regards to financial decisions."

Reg, the driver, just shrugged.

The carriage shifted, and Otto appeared in the doorway. He was sweating, and his face was very red. These were not good signs for his health. He glared at her with murder in his eyes.

"I'll help you with your father! I'll speak with him—" Eleanor begged, then choked off as Reg placed his finger over her mouth when Otto shook his head sharply.

Carefully, grunting in pain with every step, Otto climbed down and sighed with relief as he stood on the soft moss of the road. This was why the carriage noise had disappeared. A thick bed of moss covered the long lane leading through the forest.

When the fat man opened his eyes again, he turned his scornful expression to her. "It's too late for sweet words. You made your opinion of my request very clear. If my father intends to replace me with a new son, I'll ensure he never remarries."

"You don't need to do this! I don't want to marry him! I was going to speak to my father to get him to change his mind," Eleanor said desperately.

Otto snorted. "It's a little late for that. Unless you can speak with the recently deceased."

Eleanor froze. "What?"

"Oh! Didn't you know? Your father died five days ago," Otto said with a wide smile on his face. "Such a stupid bitch," he muttered as he shook his head.

Eleanor was stunned and felt like the gentlest breeze might blow her away.

The slap from Otto's hand caught her completely by surprise, and her head reeled back with the shock of it. She stumbled back from the carriage as Reg released her arm.

Suddenly, the horses squealed shrilly and reared to break free from the footman's grip. He caught a hoof against his temple as he tossed himself aside, barely avoiding being trampled when the carriage jolted forward. He fell against the soft moss in a daze.

The carriage's back wheel struck Otto and tossed him to the ground as it rolled over his foot.

Otto shrilly screamed in agony, and the horses shied away from the sound, dragging the carriage to the left, off the road, and into the forest. The beasts tried to run into the woods to escape.

The driver moved to regain control over the horses as their transport slammed between the smaller trees a short distance from the roadside and became stuck. He stopped and cursed as he saw how difficult it would be to back it out.

The lantern on the right side was torn from its mount and dropped to the ground with a crash. Flames erupted from the damaged fixture and threw strange shadows across the woods. This caused the horses to squeal more desperately.

In her daze, Eleanor felt something flash across the lane a short distance away, flanking the fleeing horses in the woods. Due to the darkness surrounding them, she didn't see what it was, but its rapid passage left a wake of disturbed air.

The screams of the horses peaked as the carriage shook and trembled the small trees. Eleanor could only see the back of their transport now as it rocked and jerked against the saplings trapping it in place. The sounds of the terrified animals cut off with a series of dull thumps, sharp cracks, and a final wet, wheezing sigh. The carriage went still.

Moving forward again, Reg pulled a wicked blade from under his jacket as he reached the back of the carriage. He stepped cautiously into the dim light on the left side, easing himself forward, his knife ready in his fist.

Face still stinging from Otto's blow, Eleanor stood frozen on the soft moss and tried to see what was happening in the darkness. The leaping flames from the broken lantern were quickly dying down as they rapidly consumed the remaining spilled fuel. The lamp on the left side threw very little light, and she lost track of the driver. Her nerves were humming with her tension.

Eleanor jolted as, in a flare of the flames, she saw her trunk was missing from the carriage, though her case was on the roof. She stared down at Otto, who continued to moan and wail about his foot. He must have felt her attention as he turned his face to her.

"This is your fault, you stupid bitch! Reg! Peter! Rape this cunt, then slit her throat!" he spat.

Stumbling back from his vile words, she glanced around for his men and didn't see them. Breath caught in her throat, she realized she had to run while she had the chance. Making her muscles obey her was another thing. She spun and began with a stumbling shuffle back along the moss of the road, gradually working her legs into the pumping motions of a run. Her shoes sank into the soft moss, and she had to be careful of her footing, not to twist an ankle.

She was only a short distance away when a high-pitched, terrified scream tore through the woods and was quickly silenced. Eleanor's muscles froze momentarily, making her stumble and fall, but the soft surface of the moss absorbed the impact, so she bounced and just lost a little wind. She struggled back up as she heard Otto begin to whimper and gibber hysterically. His squealing shriek cut off with a sickening crunch, and Eleanor was fleeing once more as quickly as she could.

The light was so dim, but somehow, she managed to stay in the lane as she ran, gasping for breath.

She picked up the sound of heavy breathing approaching fast and struggled to run faster. She'd been a child the last time she ran and hadn't been fast then. Now, desperation fueled her pace.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as the soft thump of feet on moss grew closer and closer.

Suddenly struck from behind, she went down hard, under another body. She shrieked, and the footman screamed out his fright, too. He pushed himself off, stepping on her wrist in the darkness in his haste to keep running. She gasped in pain and looked up from the ground to see his outline against the stars, showing through an opening in the canopy of leaves. He only managed one more step forward before a large shape stepped before him and punched through his chest with a loud crack and wet pop.

Eleanor squeaked her terror from a throat too tight to make words.

Lifting the dead man in the air, the brute flung the body off into the woods.

Something hot and wet splashed across Eleanor's face as she gasped in shock. She picked up the scent of iron and realized the footman's blood was on her face.

A large hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her effortlessly until she cleared the ground. She couldn't get a breath as she dangled in the cruel grip. She grabbed the arm with both hands, but it felt like stone.

She could see only darkness before her. The face of the creature was hidden in the impenetrable black of the shadows. Claws on its free hand ripped downwards through her clothes, shredding them. The night's cool air rushed in to chill her now-exposed skin. Somehow, its claws managed to avoid slicing her open as well.

She couldn't scream. She was powerless against its unnatural strength. It brutally tugged on the torn fabric until she was naked from her neck to her knees. A big hand roughly touched her most intimate places but lingered on none as if controlled by instinct but lacking interest.

Her vision was beginning to tunnel with her lack of oxygen, and her struggles weakened. Just before she completely lost consciousness, she was flung down onto her back. She lay there on the moss, gasping for breath and coughing. Eventually, she was able to get her brain functioning again. She struggled to focus her eyes on the brute standing at her feet, watching her. She could only roughly make out its outline. It had the shape of a man. A large man.

Then it dropped its weight onto her, and she screamed. A wet tongue stroked up the side of her neck as her hair was gripped in a big fist, pulling her head roughly to the right. She pushed against its chest, but it was immovable.

The skin on her neck felt like ice then a sharp pressure bloomed, followed by the oddest sensation of becoming lightheaded.

She wasn't sure if it was the cool night air against her naked skin, but she began to feel chilled, and a great lethargy filled her. Her life! It was taking her life from her.

Then, she felt a greater horror. A heat between her legs. Hard and insistent. Pushing against her most intimate place. She tried to squeeze her legs closed, but the beast was too strong. She felt a brief yet sharp tearing and then—

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

The brute's mouth suddenly ripped from her throat with a snarl as it looked up towards the angry scream that was approaching rapidly from above Eleanor's head. Her eyes lifted to catch a brief flash of silver. The growl suddenly ended with a gasp, and something fell to strike her shoulder before the brute collapsed onto her, driving the wind from her lungs once more. Mercifully, the pressure between her legs was gone.

Now, though, she had no energy to push her captor off. She could smell the strong metallic scent of blood and felt it squish under her shoulders in the moss.

There was a second presence with her, which rolled the brute's body clear of hers. She turned her head and saw the body was missing its head. She heard a sudden intake of breath above her and looked towards the sound.

"What have I done? Damn... Damn, damn, DAMN!" an emotionally ragged voice raged to her left as gentle hands touched her arm and hip.

"help... me..." she managed, barely.

There was silence, and when the deep voice returned, it trembled. "To die? Or to live?"

She wondered at that question. "I want... to live."

More silence, and she was beginning to drift when the voice returned. "You may live... to regret that choice."

She heard nothing else, for she was gone.

Chapter 2

Cool sheets. A soft pillow. The crackle of a fire echoed oddly as if in a large operating studio.

Eleanor gasped in a breath and moaned in agony as her neck sent sharp pains through her entire body.

"Try not to move, dear. Your injuries are quite severe and have not healed."

The voice was feminine and... older. Eleanor opened her eyes and slid them in the direction of the speaker.

"Has a doctor been called?" she whispered as she hadn't the strength to speak louder.

"No, dear. No doctors visit this estate. Haven't in decades. No one visits. You were a surprise."

Eleanor blinked and struggled to focus on the woman's words as they made no sense. "Where am I?"

"You're at the King Estate. The young master will be back in a day or so. He's dealing with the mess the old master left in the laneway," the kindly woman explained.

"...estate of the King?" Eleanor gasped with widening eyes.

A gentle chuckle met her incredulity. "Not the King. The King family estate. Not much of a family these days, though. Just the young master, now."

"Is that... is he the one who saved me?" Eleanor asked weakly.

The old woman nodded with a sad expression. She seemed uncomfortable for some reason.

A great thirst passed through Eleanor, and she looked for something to quench it. "Could... could I have some water?"

The woman's expression became pained. "I'm so sorry, dear. The young master forbids me to give you food or drink. It would just add to your misery, he said."

Eleanor blinked at the woman in surprise. She was to be tortured by this young master then. That wouldn't do.

She gathered her strength and attempted to sit up. Horrible pain exploded in her neck and shot through her body. The last thing she saw was the sad eyes of the old woman looking down at her.

-=-

Eleanor was vaguely aware of an interval of time passing.

She couldn't discern the length of time because she'd been in and out of consciousness. Her memories were playing tricks on her as well. She recalled a commanding voice, one she had to obey, and precise orders. She felt a growing lethargy interspersed with moments of intense energy that faded quickly. The taste of iron and the sensation of hot stickiness gently washed from her face.

Then darkness, always darkness. It came for her once more.

-=-

"Awaken."

Eleanor felt her mind being dragged back to consciousness. As in all of the previous times she heard it, she couldn't resist the command of that voice. It felt like every cell in her being vibrated in sympathy with the sound.

She gasped and recalled her last lucid period. She'd spoken with an old woman then. Her eyes fluttered open to see a man standing beside the bed. She immediately began to feel self-conscious about her condition under his dark, fierce gaze.

His long black hair desperately needed the skilled touch of a barber, though his face was cleanly shaven. He had a strong jaw, and she saw those muscles twitch as he clenched his teeth. Dark, full brows lowered above his intense yet troubled dark blue eyes. His lips turned down at the corners, yet looked like they could just as easily host a smile. She caught herself staring at his mouth, wondering if he ever used it for more sensual activities. A flush warmed her cheeks, so she looked away, then quickly back.

"You're the one who saved me?" she asked, surprising herself with how weak her voice sounded.

His frown deepened. "I've saved no one. You're still dying. You still have a chance to pass peacefully. I suggest you take it."

She looked at him in fright. "You plan to kill me after saving me from the brute and bringing me here!?!"

Anger shot through his expression but was quickly replaced by a sadness that surprised her and pained her heart to see.

He gave his head a brief shake. "No, I cannot kill you... not now, but I might be able to let you pass on. Please consider this mercy."

"I want to live!" she begged, and a look of longing slipped onto his face but was quickly hidden behind an impassive mask. He seemed to be taking a moment to calm himself.

"The injuries you received that night were mortal. There was no way to simply repair the damage. You would have bled to death, but you asked me to intervene." The mask slipped, and shame appeared on his face. "My father was right. I'm too weak. I was swayed by sentiment." He glanced at her with a strange mix of longing and anger in his eyes.

"And beauty."

With that, he turned and left, leaving Eleanor gaping at him in shock and surprise. Her thirst returned with a vengeance as the door closed, but it was too late.

He was gone.

-=-

When Eleanor returned to her senses, she felt movement and discovered she was sitting propped up in an old wheelchair, wrapped in blankets, and being pushed through a wood-paneled corridor. "Who's there?" she sighed, too weak to turn her head.

The chair stopped, and the old woman moved into view. Eleanor got a better look at her. She was dressed in a brown shawl over a brown dress. Very plump and plain but with kind eyes.

"The young master asked me to bring you to him in the study. There is a good fire burning in the fireplace," she said.

"Why is he starving me?" Eleanor whimpered.

The old woman's face showed her compassion. "There's no easy way to thwart death. It comes for us all. It came for you a week ago, but I understand you begged him to help you live." Eleanor's mind flashed to the night in question and the deep voice asking if she wanted him to help her die or live. She was beginning to get the idea that she'd chosen the more difficult path.

"The young master has been far more compassionate towards you than was shown to him. The old master forced his son through it without a thought to the pain and terror he was causing an already damaged young man." She frowned in anger. "After what the boy went through in Crimea. He came back changed, he did. It was like the joy had been crushed from his very soul."

The old woman was lost in her thoughts, then suddenly realized Eleanor was watching her. She smiled in embarrassment, then moved behind the chair to get them moving again. The wheels squeaked faintly, and the chair creaked as they passed through the hall.

Eleanor took in the rich woods on the walls and the faded and worn carpet below them. There was wealth here but from a long time ago. She saw potential in the grand design, lost to neglect and time. The home wasn't dirty, just so very tired, much like how she felt.

They finally emerged into a vast room whose walls were lined with bookshelves. Her eyes widened in awe. She'd only seen collections this large in the libraries of the university. What treasures of knowledge lay just beyond her fingertips. She felt a sudden ebbing of her strength, reminding her that she was dying and wouldn't be sharing those treasures. The unfairness took her breath away, and a tear ran down her cheek.

The old woman positioned the chair next to a single high-back chair and side table before a large fireplace with a considerable blaze inside. She barely felt the heat as her body held such a chill.

With a slight curtsy, the woman walked from the room, leaving Eleanor to get familiar with the surroundings.

She looked around and saw a large painting above the fireplace's mantle. The portrait was of a family. The father was a big man with a mane of white hair and a stern, forbidding expression. Something in his eyes disturbed Eleanor, so she looked to the mother. She was a study in contrasts to her husband. Petite and raven-haired with fine features and beautiful blue eyes, shining with joy and love.

The young boy standing between the two adults had to be the young master of the house as he looked like a younger version of the man she'd spoken to... earlier. Her time sense was severely affected.

Looking more closely at the boy, she saw he took his looks from his mother with her dark hair, blue eyes, and even the smile on his lips.

She caught motion at the far corner of the room in the shadows. The shape got closer, and she saw it was the young master. He'd been watching her?

He stopped a few feet away and studied her with a critical eye. She watched him struggle with his emotions. She thought she saw anger, grief, and, most surprisingly, longing flash by before he forced his face into a neutral expression.

"This is more difficult than I thought it would be," he forced out, his voice a rasp in his tight throat.

"What's your name?" she insisted.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh! My apologies for my lack of manners! I'm Raymond King, the sole heir to everything you see around you." The vitality in his voice diminished as he spoke, and his gaze became bleak.

"Your parents—" she began.

"Dead," he said bluntly. "My mother died while I was fighting in the war. My father... I murdered the night I met you."

Her eyes widened. "Murdered?"

"He was... feeding on you... and defiling you," Raymond's voice was barely a croak as his throat was so tight.

"That... thing was your father?" Eleanor gasped, and Raymond's eyes closed in pain.

"Yes."

Horror swept through her mind as she recalled the incredible strength and brutality of the beast that attacked her. "It wasn't... that was no man!"

Raymond's eyes slowly opened as he looked down at the distress on Eleanor's face. "It's true. He was no longer Human. The years that man endured living alone in this mansion damaged him. It ripped away much of his Humanity. When I left home to join the army to fight beside my countrymen in that war, it affected him badly. I'd never had such a violent argument with him in my life. We almost came to blows." Raymond shuddered as he recalled the day. He came back to himself after a short pause.