Rage

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Edwige

W e were so busy fucking that as the night of the ball loomed only a few hours from now, neither had any idea how it had come to fruition. But I was more than happy to see it arrive. The thirst for Gyrhorn’s teeth had been growing, a need for vengeance clawing and scraping inside my chest had left me hollow, and raw, and fucking hungry. Hargrave had kept it at bay, sitting with me as I lost myself to the madness. Watching me as I crouched, counting my teeth and murmuring gibberish. Letting me fuck him and myself into oblivion when that was the only way to expel the need to hunt and maim.

“You look ravishing Edwige, darling.”

I turned in place, being far more careful than I usually was. My wardrobe had been steadily increasing over these last few weeks, though it was no secret I preferred Hargrave’s shirts whenever we were simply relaxing at home. Fittings for a ballgown had been added into my routines, the seamstress and her assistants, a family of house brownies, had been paid an exorbitant amount to come to his hulking townhome, rather than have me wandering the streets with my telltale teeth and claws.

I secretly enjoyed the sweetness of the creatures. A trio of sisters, each smaller than the last, with bright smiles and warm, brown eyes. They’d created a masterpiece. The silk tinted a delicate heliotrope, with a deeply scooped neck and sleeves of the finest chiffon that fell just to my elbows. My pale skin glowed against it, and the deathly purple tinge to my lips was enhanced. The carefully draped skirt fell down the length of my legs, coming to the floor in a delicate little train that followed where I walked but could be collected and held by a single gold ring should I need to dance, or, more likely, need to ambush and chase down my last kill.

That thought had me grimacing, because this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen or owned, and I was absolutely going to ruin it tonight.

Hargrave caught the change in expression and rushed towards me, gathering my face in his wide, warm hands and lifting my gaze to his.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded gently, “do you not like it?”

“I love it!” I protested, running my hands over his suit, admiring the heavy dark fabric that had been expertly cut to highlight his broad shoulders, the little tails on the back of it mimicking my train in a way I found adorable. “I’m just sad that it will be ruined by the end of the night.”

“Oh, love,” he chuckled, pulling me into his embrace and pressing a kiss to the top of my head, uncaring about all the work Immer and her army of housemaids had done to turn my wild curls into an updo that rested almost like a crown on the top of my head. Each hair had been tamed and woven into perfection, decorated with jeweled pins that winked purple and brilliantly glittered when the light hit them just so. “I’ll buy you a thousand more dresses. You can ruin one every night if you want.”

“I do not want to ruin dresses every night,” I groused, pressing my face into his sternum and inhaling a calming lungful of his scent. “I would like to ruin fewer things, if that’s an option.”

“You have not ruined a single thing, Edwige. Not even one time,” he growled, holding me tighter at the words. “You’ve only made them better.”

Hargrave

This is going to be my first and last ball, I groused internally after yet another polite greeting to a trio of simpering idiots that I had never heard of, and certainly had no desire to interact with again. I worked to school the annoyed expression on my face. A pace behind me, in a modest dress that did not suit her at all, Immer was whispering names and titles into my ear as people approached to greet their host before fucking off to the buffet or the half-populated dance floor.

I had to hand it to the elf; she had outdone herself.

Flowers were everywhere, perfuming the air, festooning every rail, brightening even the darkest of corners, dripping over the edges of the tables and around the backs of the chairs. A sea of delicate white tapers burned among the burgeoning greenery, softening the harsh, orange light from the recently installed gas lamps. Life size marble statues, depictions of the maenads as they danced madly for their god of wine and chaos, were arranged around the perimeter in poses that seemed to change between sexual and violent. Each one more arresting than the last, and wreathed in so many flowers it seemed as though we were giving them offerings, and that this ball was actually a religious ceremony.

Everything that could have been gilded was, and it glimmered luxuriously. Beyond the second set of doors, thrown wide open the gardens waited, lit with torches the gargoyles cleaned to the brilliant marble white of the statues, with flowers added into every plant not currently in bloom, so it appeared a second spring had taken hold within the boundaries of my high walls.

I glimpsed Edwige as I surveyed the expanse of my rarely used ballroom. She was radiant in purple; the color highlighting her deathly pale skin and the enchanting shade of her lips, and her nipples, though none of the attendees knew that particular fact.

The flickering candles made her wide eyes shine as silvery as her teeth and claws.

Then she froze, going exceptionally still in the same manner as a great cat about to pounce. I turned my gaze to the entrance, already knowing what I would find when I looked there. A lithe, blonde male stood proudly in the center of my thrown open doors, the candle and gaslit lamps bathing him in an ethereal glow. The vampire must have fed recently, and well too. His skin was dewy, and a blush tinged his cheeks. His scarlet lips were twisted in a smile of genuine awe, his pale grey eyes, rimmed in red, seemed to take in every detail with the wonder of a child.

For a moment, I could understand and empathize with his expression. Immer had created something truly beautiful. The ball, a term that seemed so trite, was spectacular, every aspect of it lush and spellbinding. I searched through my vocabulary, trying to find the right word to describe it even as the vampire approached me. That she had done it for Edwige, a woman she’d barely known, a woman who could be a genuine threat to her, to me, to our entire organization, was astounding.

“There he is,” Immer whispered into my ear before stepping away, and I watched her approach Edwige from the corner of my eye before turning my focus back to the second most dangerous predator in the room.

“Mr. Rutledge.” the vampire said, his voice somewhat breathy, “Please allow me to introduce myself.”

“No introduction needed, Mr. Pavalur,” I replied warmly, taking his proffered hand and shaking it heartily, fighting the urge to crush it between my larger ones. “I am thrilled you could attend this evening. I know the invitations were rather last minute, but once I had the idea, I simply couldn’t wait a moment longer than necessary.”

“Strange, you seem like one of the more patient... business owners I’ve ever heard of,” Gyrhorn replied, returning my warm greeting with a look of suspicion.

“I am patient with my work, and meticulous to a fault if you ask my staff, but waiting for my pleasure is not something I’m not in the habit of doing,” I replied breezily.

“It seems you don’t skimp on it, either,” he answered, leaning towards me as though we were co-conspirators. When I didn’t back away, he seemed gratified, smiling winsomely at me as he threaded an arm through mine, like we were a couple about to perform our afternoon promenade. I allowed the liberty, feeling a thrill at the idea that Edwige would see, would become jealous, and take it out on me later.

“I do not,” I assured him, gesturing to the overstated grandeur that surrounded us, taking the opportunity to lead him deeper into the crowd, closer to where Edwige watched and waited for me to deliver her revenge at her perfect feet.

Edwige

I was vibrating with need. His scent was all I could breathe. It wove through the air to strangle me, to awaken the barely contained violence that lurked beneath my skin. Glee, anger, and vengeance all roiled under my skin, warming me and filling me to the brim. He was here, the final set of teeth I needed. My vengeance would be complete, their debt of pain fulfilled. Even as I moved to stalk him, slinking through the shadows, I could already see the long, twisting rope of teeth that waited upstairs, so close to being finished. It needed me to complete my work, to take the teeth of the vampires who had done me wrong.

“Edwige.” I twisted, baring my silvery claws as Immer approached me, her understated gown’s train brushing over mine, her hand wrapping around my bicep to halt me.

“Mine,” I growled.

“Yours, he is yours toothtaker,” She agreed, gently urging me deeper into the shadows. “Come to the garden with me, and you can hunt, you darling, vicious thing. Your vengeance is waiting.”

I was done waiting.

The garden was swathed in the deepest shadows, the pinpricks of brilliant light from the added torches searing my eyes, and I hissed, drawing further into the shelter of the branches, uncaring of the roses. I could smell sex emanating from a few nooks and crannies, and the scent irritated me. It diluted my prey. It interrupted the hunt.

Immer had led me to a massive stone gargoyle. It sported a bull’s head, and massive bat wings. Its hands were wrapped around a pomegranate in offering, the cloven hooves buried deep in the damp, stony soil. I wriggled as she worked to divest me of the lovely gown, trying to hold on to my sanity as she rushed through the process, popping off several buttons. As the dress fell, I let my veneer of propriety fall with it, sinking into the feral rage of the toothtaker, becoming her, savoring her need for vengeance.

My claws tinkled against the stone of the gargoyle she’d secreted us behind, my teeth clattering and chattering with glee. I could smell him, I could taste him. I would have my vengeance. I would sate my rage. I would wear his fucking teeth as a goddess cursed trophy while his corpse disintegrated into ash beneath the pink Gallica roses my lover’s gardener was so fucking fond of.

Hargrave’s voice reached me, the deep, rich timbre of it sending a shiver through my spine, making the beds of my claws tingle and my gilded teeth chatter in a flurry of chimes. I crouched lower, crawling forward, skittering around pools of golden light, hunting my last tormentor and certain of his demise.

Hargrave

The faintest flurry of silvery bells reached me, and I had to suppress a feral grin at the sweet, delicate noise.

“What was that?” my companion asked, the vampire turning to look into the night, his preternatural gaze spotting far more than mine could. I trusted Edwige, trusted her abilities and instincts. She would hide herself in the shadows until the perfect moment to take her prey. That she had allowed me to take part in her vengeance was a gift I would never take for granted.

“I have been informed by the staff that the gargoyles come alive under the moonlight.” I told him, gesturing to the waxing orb floating high above us in the rare, clear night.

“Gargoyles, truly?”

“You are a vampire, and I am an orc. There are whispers of a toothtaker roaming the streets, and yet you don’t think that the gargoyles can awaken under the moon and cavort through my roses? Especially on a night of such… revelry?” I asked, chuckling a little at the annoyed little twist of Gyrhorn’s too red lips. That sent the man whirling away from me, the wonder and delight completely abandoning his features, cold fury sharpening them into what I was certain was his true face.

“What do you know of the toothtaker?” He hissed, sinking into a crouch as though he planned on attacking me.

“I know every scar,” I whispered, taking a step back, then another, as though his posturing was intimidating, my eyes on Edwige. She was beautiful in her nudity, snow white skin shining in the moonlight, brilliant silver teeth bared and claws extended. “I know every wound… I know her name,” I growled.

Edwige

I leapt, landing on his exposed back like a jungle cat, silent and deadly.

He didn’t even have time to scream as I tangled one of my hands in his greasy blonde hair, the scent of expensive oil turning bitter with the sudden fear he emanated. I wrapped the other around his throat, revelling in the sensation of my claws as they sunk into the cartilage and flesh before burying themselves between the hardness of his delicate vertebrae. He released a wail, the sound bright and pained before it stuttered in a gurgle, and then silence when I stole his ability to speak, to breathe.

So perfect, this final vengeance. The night above me, its moon silvering my prey and my flesh and the hothouse flowers around us. None of it soiled by a single cry from the creature I fully intended to destroy.

“I couldn’t scream, either,” I said, giggling into his pale white ear. “I could cry, though. Are you crying?” I jerked his head back by his platinum hair, looking at his frozen face. “There they are. Sweet, sweet tears just for me. A gift for me, a curse for you,” I crooned. I groaned as I dug into a juicy vein, feeling the viscous, red fluid gush into my palms, pooling in them before sliding out of my grip and down his ruined throat.

My feet were planted on either side of his sloping shoulders and I squatted atop of him. “I care a great deal,” I whispered into his dirty, hairy ear as I tore his head from his neck.

The wet crackling pop-pop-pop sound of ripping his head from his shoulders was a new and thrilling sensation. The hot spray of blood across my skin, however, was not. It was red, and wet, and stank enough that my own gorge rose in my throat.

“Blood and bones, and teeth and groans,” I muttered, dropping the still-blinking head to the earth and shaking myself like a wet dog. Blood droplets fell off of me, but mostly it just spread the viscous fluid over my skin. The head stared at me, its eyes going dull as I watched.

“Take your due, little demon,” Hargrave urged, the soft words drawing me out of the reverie I’d slipped into, entranced by the way the blood seeped out of the ragged stump and oozed through the network of pea gravel. He would need to replace the path, or at the very least rinse it thoroughly. I reached out, my claws shining black, the miniscule designs on them obscured by the gore. I crouched once again, peering into the dead, dull eyes of my lifeless tormentor, before reaching out with my deadly claws and sinking them into the brittle bones of his mouth, the visceral crunch drawing a moan of satisfaction from me. His teeth fell to the ground, the faint pinging of bone and stone so barbaric when compared to the lovely, clear bells of my claws. Scorn filled me. He was all bluster and no substance, even in death. I twisted my fingers, dislodging the deeper molars and fishing them out, piling my cache of bones in the thin fabric of my chemise where it stretched into a basket between my thighs.

Soon I had them all, 32 perfect teeth rattling in my grasp, shining in the moonlight, ready for my collection.

“It’s done,” I whispered, holding one of the fangs up to the light, carefully pressed between my claws.

“It is indeed, my perfect creation,” I flinched at the voice, turning to face the woman I had not seen since that fateful night, when I had chosen fury over peace, when I’d needed to sate my rage more than I needed to allow myself to finally rest. A choice that I could never regret, not with a palm full of teeth and a hulking orc at my side.

“Maslenitsa,” I whispered, dread pooling in my gut, replacing the half-mad glee that had been there.

“Smart little witch,” she crooned, reaching out to me with her pale blue fingers crooked. I took a step back, recalling the last time she’d ran the icy pads over my flesh, how she’d frozen my skin solid, killing it along with the pain. The movement didn’t seem to surprise her. She even smiled, as though I were one of her more clever pupils. “You will be a lovely addition to my court.”

“What do you mean?” Hargrave was beside me, going toe-to-toe with the terrifying deity.

“She has completed her vengeance,” the goddess said, turning her brilliant sapphire eyes on my lover. “Unless she has more deaths to offer me, she must accept her demise and enter court, as an honored member, of course. Edwige will want for nothing at my side, orc.”

“If it’s death you need…” Hargrave said, a vicious smirk cursing his lips, “then I think I can keep Edwige busy. If that’s what you want, my love?” He asked, turning to me, “I don’t mean to speak for you,” He added, looking so contrite that I almost laughed.

“Are you asking me to be your... assassin?” I replied, looking up into his dark eyes, the fiery light in their very depths seeming to burn brighter the longer I held his gaze.

“I am asking for so much more than that, little demon, but if having you maim and kill my enemies will keep you by my side, then yes, I hope you can be my assassin.”

“I think I prefer wife,” I told him, wrapping my free hand, dirty as it was, in his warm one, “but I will kill whoever you want me to.”

The fading snickers of the terrifying goddess punctuated our kiss.