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Hurt 3

A/N: This is part 3 of a finished fic, the links for which can be found on my mistresslist.

Despite the unutterable horror of what had happened that fateful night, your life continued, almost as it always had. Your father was powerful enough to quell any official hint of scandal from your having been missing those three days, saying that you had suddenly taken ill, and been quickly transported to the hospital. However, whenever your parents questioned you as to your whereabouts for those fateful three days, the horror of what occurred threatened to overwhelm your mind, and you had such attacks and palpitations that they soon learned to keep their questions to themselves, having to satisfy themselves in the knowledge that you were at least, physically, whole.

One night, however, your maman had slipped into your bed, wrapping her arms around you, and holding you close–like she used to do when you were a child, crying over a nightmare–quietly asking if anything, untoward, had happened, for which they needed to prepare. Though your answer was wrought from you with tears, you were at least grateful for the knowledge that nothing of that sort had been visited upon your person.

The scandal from Jongin’s disappearance, especially after his having been by your side all night, was far more difficult to handle. You had told your parents that you didn’t know where Jongin–Monsieur Kim–was, which was technically true, your having no idea what Monsieur Boudreaux had done with his body. They relayed that information to his peers, who instituted a city-wide search, with the full cooperation of the police.

During all of this, the wagging tongues of the gossip mill were set aflame, though you were shielded from most of it, due to your papa’s position in society. That didn’t stop the censorious looks from old broodmares, as you walked down the street, or the sniffs from your peers who had already been envious of the singular attention he had been paying to you, all along. While they–thankfully–didn’t seem to think that you had anything to do with his disappearance, you had, unfortunately been branded an inveterate flirt.

***

Upon arriving home, after seeing Etienne safely ensconced in the arms of his retainers, you slipped inside the servant’s entrance, and crept up the stairs to your bedchamber. Monsieur Kim was right on your heels, and you quickly closed the door in his face. There was a scoff, then he walked through the door, raising an eyebrow at you.

Sitting at your vanity, you met his eyes in the mirror, as you reached behind yourself to undo the hooks and eyes of your gown. “Sir?”

He averted his eyes, a slight blush suffusing the tops of his cheeks. After a moment of further thought, he turned around completely, standing stock-still until you walked by him in your nightdress. Climbing into bed, you turned on your side, facing away from him, and closing your eyes, desperate to achieve a few hours of sleep before you were awakened by Cosette.

“You saved that boy’s life tonight.”

You sighed heavily. “Is it not enough that you endeavour to starve me to death, must you now also add sleep deprivation to your list of tortures?”

He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke again, the sound was right behind your head. “I still don’t understand what happened.”

Huffing in frustration, you turned to see that Monsieur Kim was lying on his back beside you, his head on your other pillow. “Be glad that you’re dead, otherwise, my papa would kill you for being in his daughter’s bed, and my maman would kill you for putting your shoes on her antique coverlet. Ma grand-mere’s maman crocheted this, you know.”

He slanted you an almost playful look.

You blinked. It had to have been a trick of the light. Clearing your throat, you asked, “So, what about this night was so confusing to you?”

“I’ve watched you kill countless men. You’re merciless–” here you started in protest, but he gave you a quelling look, and you subsided, “and yet, allowed that boy to live. Not only that, but you tried to stop those men from hurting him. Why?”

“Apparently, monsieur, your powers of observation are in inverse proportion to your looks,” you said tartly. “If you had taken but a moment to mark the low nature of those whom I’ve been eating, then you would have realized that I only eat the murderous, and the rapine. I am a monster, yes–I’ve come to terms with that–but if I have to continue in this accursed way, then I should at least do what I can to help clean the city of its filth.”

Monsieur Kim turned to you, his visage serious. You tried not to think of how, had the circumstances been different, you both may have still lain just like this, but with soft words of love flowing between you, instead of the guarded expressions you now wore.

“Clean the city of its filth,” he mused. “Why do you not start with Boudreaux?”

You blinked, taken aback. It had never even occurred to you to try to seek vengeance on the man who had made you a monster. “I…haven’t thought…how could I? He’s like me–”

“Honour amoungst thieves?”

“I doubt I have the strength. Besides, he already told me that he’s impossible to kill.”

“And you believed him?”

You were silent. Then, slowly, “I’m still unsure of what I am… If I kill him, I kill hope for any answers to this cursed condition.”

“Surely, he can’t be the only one.”

“No, but how do you propose I find another? Shall I put an ad in the paper?”

“Is that why you hesitate? Or is there a secret affinity for him, hidden deep within your breast?”

Your eyes filled with tears. “You think me so base?”

Monsieur Kim seemed discomfited by your tears. “He…made you what you are. It would merely be natural–”

“Nothing about this entire affair is natural!” you ejaculated. Turning with a huff, you pulled the covers over your head.

He was blessedly silent.

***

The next day, you dragged yourself down to brunch, still achingly weary, from both the previous night’s exertions, and the lack of sleep.

Sitting at the table, you fortified yourself for another round of pretense. At first, you had called for your meals to be taken in your room, and it was easy enough to convince Cosette to eat them for you, blaming your lack of appetite on the loss of your paramour. However, as you began to lose weight (due to Monsieur Kim’s interference with your hunting), and grow progressively paler, your parents insisted on your joining them for meals, so that they could keep an eye on you.

Food that you had once found delectable now nauseated you, and though you could consume it, you couldn’t keep it down for long, leading to a miserable post-meal ritual that you dreaded. As you listlessly pushed about the food on your plate, the butler came with a card on a silver tray, for your father.

He took it and, glancing at you, nodded to the butler, saying, “Bring him in–tell him that we’re having brunch, and he’s welcome to join us.”

After a few moments, the cadence of a familiar tread reached your ears, and you froze in horror.

“Ah! Monsieur Boudreaux!” your mother trilled, standing up from the table, wrapping her arm around his, and guiding him to sit across from you. “What a wonderful surprise! How lovely to see you this morning. To what do we owe the occasion?”

“I was actually wondering if I may have the pleasure of speaking with your lovely daughter.”

For a fraction of a second, both of your parent’s faces dropped their genial veneer, before smoothing over once more, to polite anodyne. “Why, Monsieur Boudreaux,” your mother started, “I fear that our daughter hasn’t been feeling quite herself as of late. Perhaps if you returned another day–”

“Mais non, c’est bien, Maman,” you murmured. Standing abruptly, without looking at him, you said, “Monsieur Boudreaux, if you would be so kind as to accompany me into the parlour?”

You wheeled on him after closing the door, your fangs having already descended in preparation.

Monsieur Boudreaux held up his hand, and you froze, a guttural growl rumbling from your chest.

“I’m not here to antagonize you,” he said, his voice mild. “Besides, you should be more careful. What if one of the servants were to hear you?”

Subsiding, you looked away, ashamed at your lack of self-control.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you without guidance for so long. I’ve been remiss in my responsibility to you, and for that, I apologize sincerely.”

“Pretty words will gain you no favours, monsieur. I neither desire, nor require your assistance.”

“Do you not?” he asked mildly. “Tell me, mademoiselle, have you not found it odd that there has been no hue and cry in the papers about the deaths of so many of your…meals?”

You could feel the blood draining from your face.

Monsieur Boudreaux cocked his head as he saw your realization. “Ma cher enfante, did you really think that you could just leave bodies lying about the city, and no one would notice?”

Having no remonstration, you were silent, though you cursed yourself inwardly, for failing to clean up after your predations. “Monsieur. If you are trying to arouse a sense of gratitude in my breast–”

“What I want from you is not gratitude, mademoiselle!” Monsieur Boudreaux thundered, losing control for the first time. He began pacing the room like a caged tiger, raking a hand through his hair, causing it to stand at a rakish angle. “I have tried to give you time to come to terms with your new situation, I have given you space to become comfortable with what you are, but what do I find?” He gestured to you, his movements jerky with frustration. “In my absence you have, what? Chosen to starve yourself? Tried to expose yourself by leaving evidence that even the dreariest dullard could interpret?”

“I assure you, I have no intentions of starving myself! I found out quite early the impossibility of that, unless I want to lose myself and attack another innocent! I just…have had trouble finding enough to eat, is all.”

“We are in a city of hundreds of thousands, and you cannot find enough to eat?”

“I am not a fiend; I will not eat just anyone.”

“Even so, there remain tens of thousands of blackguards from which to choose.”

“Just so. However, I have run into certain complications–”

“Such as?”

You raised your chin, and looked down your nose at him, despite your inferior height. “They are none of your concern, monsieur.”

“None of my–” he cut himself off, and turned to the window, positively trembling in an obvious effort to control his temper. After a moment, he turned back to you, now looking far more composed. With each statement, he stepped closer, until you were pressed against the door within the cage of his arms. “You are my only concern. I wanted you. I waited for you, and I made you. You were made for me, and I’ll not let you go to ruin!”

His voice gentled. “Ma chère mademoiselle, you cannot remain unempathetic to my affections. Only I know what you are going through, what you require. I can make this so much simpler for you, if you will merely give me your heart.”

Breathing heavily, you said, your voice steady, “Never.”

Monsieur Boudreaux pupils lengthened, and a quiet, high pitched noise like a sword being drawn out of its scabbard issued from his mouth as his fangs slid into place. “Very well,” he rasped “If you won’t change your mind, I will change it for you.”

Pulling your head to the side, his mouth descended toward your neck–

“Step back, scoundrel!”

You sagged in relief. Monsieur Kim.

His dark eyes flashed as he took in the scene before him, his jaw firm, his stance authoritative, as if he were about to strike Monsieur Boudreaux where the wretch stood.

Monsieur Boudreaux’s eyes narrowed, as he raised his face from your neck. Turning, he slanted a glance to the side, to see Monsieur Kim standing beside you, his form quivering with fury. A slow smirk sliced through his expression, as he looked between the two of you. In a voice so scathing as to be downright caustic he said, “Ah, the wretched revenant. Tell me, mademoiselle…is he why you haven’t been eating? Shall I rid you of him?”

“The only villain that I wish to be rid of is you, monsieur!” you ejaculated, pushing him away from you, with no inconsiderable effort.

Monsieur Boudreaux closed his eyes and, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, visibly calmed himself, so that when his eyes reopened, he looked once more the gentleman. Pinning you with a look, he said, “You can waste your time being tormented by this useless phantom, or you can come to me and finally become all I have made you to be. I will wait. After all,” he smiled, his eyes hot and wicked, “We have time.”

You stepped aside, as he made for the door, and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, you sank onto the nearest seat, your hand to your throat to quell the tumultuous beating of your terrified heart. For, as much as you hated to admit it, he did hold some dark allure over you that you felt grow only stronger when he dropped his human visage. Nausea rose, as you tried not to swoon when, from the corner of your eye, you saw Monsieur Kim crouching beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, wordless for a moment. Then, “Non. Non! I am, most unequivocally not alright!”

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the overstuffed back of the settee, a tear slipping from the side of your eye to slide down your cheek, and fall with a small -pat- onto the arm of the bench.

Suddenly, you heard a soft, tentative breath, and then, Monsieur Kim began to sing. “Shigando jamshi gireul ireotteon got/ Haneulhan momjise geuman maeryodwen chaero/ geotjabeul su eopshi niga nae ane beonjeo/ neoroman gadeuki dameun shiya/ eongkin shiseone nal maedeupjieun chae/ neon muishikkaji chimbeomharyeo hae/ wiheomhadan geol almyeonseo/ han georeum deo nan dagaseo/ geojinmareun sseo almyeonseo geojinmareul sseo/ ppajin geora haetjiman sashil nal ppateurin neon gipeo/ kkeuchi eopshi boyeo seumyeodeureo joyeo/ ireobeoryeo da dwedollil sun eopseo/ cheoncheonhi deurikyeo euimi eomneun sum/ malhaejweo jigeum neol haega kkaegi jeon/ bonaejweo yeongweonhi naye pumeuro/ jamgil kkeot gata sum shwil ttaemada/ geunyang idaero/ neoye pumeuro ppajeoga/ kkeudeopshi/ kkeojil tteut adeukaejin neukkimi sungan nan neoman heorakdwae/ nan nege ppajeoga”

By the time he was finished, your frayed nerves had almost completely calmed at the rich, soft sound of his curiously calming voice. “What was that?” you murmured, eyes still closed. “What did it mean?”

He was silent for a long time, and then he asked, “Have you come back to yourself?”

You nodded, slowly opening your eyes to see him directly in front of you, so close that you could have easily reached out to touch him, had you been able to touch him.

A sudden knock on the door jarred you both from your private moment, and you looked up to see your father enter. When you glanced back, Monsieur Kim had vanished.

***

After the events of the previous night, an uneasy truce arose between you, and Monsieur Kim. He no longer inhibited you from taking your meals, though he was otherwise cool. Despite his penchant for cutting remarks, however, he even began to aid you in your hunts–even going so far as to scout the streets for potential meals–and, incrementally but surely, the streets of your city began to become a bit safer, just as the blooms began to return to your cheeks.

At times, he would even rouse you from your bed to inform you of some atrocity in the offing, and there soon were countless occasions where you had the pleasure of arresting the villains in flagrante delicto. Permanently. The only downside was, not wanting to be beholden to Monsieur Boudreaux, you now had to personally take care of the disposal of your leftovers.

The alligators in the neighbouring swamps slowly began to fatten.

***

One particularly fateful night, you were disposing of the body of a rake who had taken into his possession a servant girl who could have been no older than 11, for the purposes of selling her to a house of ill-repute, to pay off his gambling debts.

“So, what are you going to do about the girl?”

You looked over your shoulder, to see the malnourished, curly-haired waif had followed you, even after having seen what you had done to the rapscallion who had been preparing to divest her of her innocence before you arrived. Her feet were bare, and her chemise hung in tatters, off of her thin shoulders.

Striding over to her, you crouched to her level, taking off your cloak, and wrapping it about her shoulders. Her bedraggled copper curls brushed your face, as she leaned forward to caress your cheek while you fastened the cape at her throat. Wordlessly, you looked up into her wide brown eyes, eyes full of trust, despite the type of life she must have led. Setting your jaw, you made a decision.

Sweeping the girl into your arms, you strode off for home. After a few moments, you heard a soft snore, and looked down to see that she had fallen asleep, her head lolling against your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Monsieur Kim queried.

“I’m taking her home.”

“And then what?”

“A bath, a meal, and bed.”

Monsieur Kim was silent. Then, “You’re not going to return her to her parents?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “She will be given a position in my household. Once in my employ, should she wish to visit her parents, she shall–with supervision–until I am satisfied that they aren’t the ones who sold her into that scoundrel’s grasp.

He walked alongside you in silence. After some time had passed, he cleared his throat. “Do you remember that night?”

You said nothing, merely continued on your way, as you contemplated his query. You knew precisely what he referenced, but you didn’t want to break your uneasy truce. Finally, you nodded once, tersely.

“I was going to request your hand. You were going to say yes. Perhaps we would have been happy. However, since then, I have come to realize that we didn’t truly know each other, though I daresay that would have come in time. I hardly know what you thought of me, but to me, you were delicate, soft, clever, and altogether perfect. I had such dreams of taking you to see the world, of your being by my side, supporting me in all of my political endeavours. I envisioned taking you home, and ensconcing you safely in my household, a brilliant jewel to rival all of the other precious things that my ancestors have collected throughout the centuries.” He smiled ruefully.

“I wanted to treat you preciously.” Monsieur Kim slanted a playful glance at you. “You were going to bear me six sons.”

“Six?!” you scoffed, indignant.

“Indeed,” he responded, smiling almost as brightly as you remembered. “Six brilliant sons to follow in my footsteps, and four strong daughters with your wit, and cleverness, to be presented at court. I like to think that we would have been happy. Would you have been happy?”

The girl stirred, and you readjusted her in your arms, briefly wrapping a hand around her head to comfort her back to sleep. When she was once again silent, you nodded your head. “Oui, Monsieur Kim,” you responded quietly, your voice regretful. “I would have been quite happy.”

His eyes were pained as he once again faced forward. Swallowing with some difficulty, he shoved his hands into his pockets, as his thoughtful gaze fell to the cobblestones.

***

Cosette helped you bathe the child, whose name she told you drowsily, as you washed her hair, was Angeline. You had had to confess your nature to Cosette, who had taken it surprisingly well.

“Eh bien,” she had said, carelessly shrugging one shoulder. “I have been your servant since we were children. Despite this rather unsavoury change in diet, I’ve noticed no fiendish developments in your person, and therefore,” here, she had raised her eyes to yours, her wide hazel eyes glowing fervently, “I will stay with you, mademoiselle until the end. Until the end, I am your own faithful servant.” You had both clasped hands then, though you could not speak, emotion robbing you of your voice.

Between the two of you, you were able to create a story for the housekeeper, to convince her to hire Angeline as a new kitchen maid. Despite your prior misgivings, it had turned out that Angeline had been stolen from her parents, though they were quite pleased to know that she had been able to become a domestic in such a great household. Finding out that her mother was a seamstress, you began sending extra work her way, and found another household for which Angeline’s father could ply his trade as a factotum. You couldn’t save the world, but you could at least help one small family.

Every day, Monsieur Kim looked at you differently. You tried to ignore it, fearing that it was merely your imagination, but soon the cool glances and cutting smirks, began to soften and warm. He once more began regaling you with tales of his childhood, teaching you about his language, and culture, and even, at times, singing sweetly to you, when the things seen on your nightly hunts became too much for you to bear.

You were imminently grateful. Though he had started out as your torment, without him, you surely would have broken down and gone, either to Monsieur Boudreaux, or mad.

One day, you wandered into the kitchen gardens to find Monsieur Kim, and Angeline merrily chattering away. Stopping in shock, you turned, so as not to interrupt them, or accidentally eavesdrop, but Angeline caught sight of you, and tripped over lightly, childishly wrapping her arms around your waist, as she was apt to do when you were alone.

Returning the embrace, you looked down at her. “You can see Monsieur Kim, cherie ?”

“Oui, mademoiselle! Since the night he found me, and told me not to worry, that you would be coming to save me.”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked over to him, noticing his discomfiture. “He said that, did he?”

Angeline nodded emphatically. “Oui! He told me to just try to distract my old master long enough for you to arrive; that once you came, everything would be alright.”

Crouching to her level, you reached out a hand to gently caress her cheek. “Angeline, I suddenly have such a craving for chocolates. Would you be a dear, and go pick up a box for me?” Handing her a few notes from your reticule, you gave the back of her head an affectionate caress before she skipped off to the confectionary.

“You don’t eat chocolates,” Monsieur Kim remarked drily.

You shrugged elegantly. “Eh, bien, I suppose that she will just have to eat them for me.”

“You’re spoiling her.”

“Apparently, so are you.”

He averted his eyes. Then, quietly, “I love children.”

You nodded sadly, “As do I.” Then, shaking yourself of your melancholy, you approached him. “So, Angeline can see you, as well?”

He nodded. “It seems as if children, and people like you can see me, with no effort on my part, but to everyone else, I have to actively endeavour to be seen. I can do it, but it takes a lot out of me, and I can only do it for so often, or so long, before I have to rest.”

“Fascinating,” you responded.

He gave you a look. “Not quite,” he murmured.

A soft growling noise rent the peace of the late afternoon, and you halted in shocked horror.

Monsieur Kim stared at you, and then burst into delighted laughter, holding his stomach, and releasing peal after peal of mirth.

With a huff, you pushed forward, leaving him behind in his joy, but he was quick to catch up with you.

“It would seem as if a certain mademoiselle is hungry,” he chuckled, beaming down at you, his eyes bright and teasing.

“Oui, eh bien, that was not me,” you said loftily.

“No? Is your garden infested with diminutive bears, perhaps? Lilliputian lions?”

Your cheeks burned in mortification. “A gentleman would not notice such things as…garden bears,” you remonstrated.

“Indeed,” he rejoined, “but I’ve crossed beyond the veil. I fear that I’m quite beyond all constraints of gentlemanly behaviour.”

“Then why do you always avert your gaze when it’s time for my habilitation?”

He flushed to the tips of his ears. “Mademoiselle!”

Walking backwards, you tilted your head flirtatiously. “Why, Monsieur Kim!” you exclaimed teasingly. “I do believe that you are blushing!”

Monsieur Kim chuckled softly, and closed his eyes, lowering his head in admission.

When he opened his eyes, however, Monsieur Kim was gone.

A sloe-eyed rake looked up at you, his head tilted sideways as he bit his lip, slowly giving you a once-over.

Involuntarily, you swallowed.

He slowly stalked toward you, his gait as smooth and rolling as a panther, and you squeaked. Lifting your skirts, you turned tail and ran, to the teasing sounds of more of Monsieur Kim’s mirthful laughter.

***

That night, you were stalking through the shadows, when you came across something that you had never thought you’d see.

Someone like you, feeding from a fainting dark-haired girl.

Wordlessly, you ran to him, grabbing him by the back of his jacket, and throwing him as hard as you could against a nearby wall. Turning, you growled to the girl, “Go home to your maman, petit biquet.”

Before you could turn, he was on you, and you were soon embroiled in a fierce fight for your very life. Fangs and claws flashed as you fought like a wildcat, but he was ever so much stronger. You could feel yourself weakening from the multiple gashes and lacerations that you had been dealt, while meanwhile, he remained relatively unscathed. From the corner of your eye, you could see Monsieur Kim disappear, but you had to concentrate on your opponent, or else–

A sharp pain pierced your chest, and you looked down to see a wooden stake buried there. Faltering, you stumbled backwards, your legs giving way beneath you, as you fell to the ground.

The stranger crouched over you, his cold, pale blue eyes glittering under a mop of soft chestnut curls. If it weren’t for the murderous glint in his eye, he would have been handsome.

You wrapped a hand around the stake, and tried to pull it out, but the pain was too great, and a wave of blackness rolled over you. Your eyelids fluttered as you valiantly struggled to remain conscious.

“Who are you?” he grated, his voice rough, but cultured, his accent of the North.

You couldn’t have answered if you tried. The pain was too great.

He looked down at you consideringly, as if examining a specimen. “Why did you interrupt me?”

You merely gazed at him wordlessly, coughing wretchedly as blood began to pool in your lung. When you opened your mouth to take a desperate breath, but coughed again, you felt it, warm and thick, running down your chin to join the stain at your breast.

The stranger looked away, as if bored. “You robbed me of my dinner.” Turning back, he gripped you tightly by the chin, lifting your face, and turning it this way, and that, as if examining a horse. “What should I do to you, hm?”

“Leave her, if you value your life.”

You closed your eyes, as the last voice you would have wanted to hear rang through the night.

Monsieur Boudreaux.

Song translation: Even time was lost in this place Completely captivated by your light movements I couldn’t stop you spreading inside of me My eyes are only filled with you

The mixed up looks tie me up You try to take over even my subconsciousness I know it’s dangerous But I’m taking another step

In the faintly shining sky Draw me out thicker (draw me out more) For a long time in your memories (in your memories) Engrave me deeper (engrave deeper)

Yeah, lies are bitter, even though I know, lies are bitter I said I fell for you but you made me fall so deep I can see endlessly, you come inside and suffocate me I lost everything, can’t turn it back

I’m drinking in meaningless breaths Tell me before the sun wakes up Send yourself forever into my arms Feels like I’m locked up every time I breathe

Just like this, fall, fall, fall for you Into your arms, fall, fall, I’m falling Endlessly

Feels so far away Only you are allowed for me in this moment Fall, fall, into you I’m falling

A/N: If you wish to follow me, then please do so @vampwrrr, as I post all of the latest updates there, and my stories have links, for easier reading.

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