Saving Grace
3 9
Charles sits alone in the library of the Chiswick manor. His mother went to sleep a while ago, and his father was still at the Ascendancy, working or avoiding being at home.
He’s tried reading the page of his book several times now, but he can’t concentrate on it. His mind keeps wandering elsewhere, eyes scanning the same sentence for a fifth time now.
Slamming the book shut, Charles stands from the armchair and grabs his coat from beside the door. He doubts his father will be home anytime soon, so it’ll be fine for him to duck out for a while.
Shutting the door behind him, he steps out into the snow caked world and trudges towards town.
Their manor isn’t far from the city centre, which Charles thinks is a blessing. He hates the idea of needing to catch a coach every time he has to get out of the manor.
Pulling his waistcoat closer to his neck, he goes down an alleyway, a shortcut on his way to the Sage.
He knows the others meet up here on occasion, and it is one of the best places in London for an evening drink.
It’s late at night and he hadn’t realised how dark it got while he sat in the library willing himself to read. Shadows lurk off every surface. Snowflakes fall gently and soundlessly around him. It’s quiet, only his footsteps seem to be making noise. He thought more people would’ve been out to enjoy the snow, but winter does keep people hidden inside. They’re not brave enough to face the elements like he is.
Turning the corner at the end of the alleyway, the street is lit up with lamp posts. The Sage has music flowing from the door. It’s at least always lively in there.
Stepping inside, there’s a small group of fiddle players tucked into a corner. Marked ones are dancing around a small open space as others sit, drinking and enjoying the scene.
Charles smiles for the first time today, strolling up to the bar, and Violet looks at him. “Usual. Please.”
She winks, flouncing away to grab his drink of brew. He leans his elbows against the timber bar, watching couples dance freely to the loud music.
“Here you go.” Violet hands him a glass filled to the brim and Charles smiles at her, passing her a note.
She stuffs it into the top of her bodice and turns to serve another man.
“I didn’t think you’d like this scene.” The familiar voice tickles up his neck. Emmett stands beside him, a drink of something dark purple in his hand.
“Why would you assume that?”
He cracks a smile. “This is fun. You don’t seem like the type of person who comes out for fun.”
“I like fun outside of my training.”
“Ah.” And Emmett stands beside him, both of them watching the dancers.
“I don’t have pints, if that’s what you’re wanting.”
“I didn’t say anything about that.”
Charles grits his teeth.
“Why are you here alone? Do you not have friends to accompany you?” Emmett asks nonchalantly.
Charles’ tongue swipes his bottom lip. “Not really.”
“That’s a shame. ”
Emmett goes to walk off when Charles grabs his arm. “I need that love spell.”
“This again…” Emmett drawls irritated. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s hard.”
Charles shakes his head. “You don’t understand. If I don’t find a wife, then I can’t become the next leader.”
“Angels, your kind is cruel. How dare they force you to wed,” Emmett mocks, taking a sip of his drink.
Charles glares at him. “It is, all right. Just, I need it to get any girl to fall for me.”
“Do you have someone in mind?” he questions.
Charles shakes his head. “Not really. She just needs to be female and Seraphim.”
Emmett scratches his fiery hair. “I will see what I can do. But from my experience, it doesn’t always end well. It wears off after a while.”
Charles shrugs, “Once I am wedded, then what do I care?”
Emmett blinks at him, his mouth rolling up before questioning, “And you can’t see why people don’t like you?”
Charles’ mouth tightens. “Will you help me or not?”
“Very well. I will make up a vial for you.”
“Thank you.” Charles drawls, turning back to the dancers.
Emmett continues to eye him. Charles’s throat works. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”
His large olive eyes swivel back onto the Elemental. “I am not sharing anything more with you.”
“If you want my help though…”
Charles licks his lips furiously. His fingers fiddle in his lap aggressively as he fights the pressure building in his chest. The accumulation of nerves firing under his flesh makes him shiver with apprehension.
“Well?” Emmett says loudly.
“I don’t like women.” Charles blurts out .
“I mean, they can be annoying, I suppose.”
“No,” Charles fully turns to him now. “As in, I don’t find women attractive.”
It’s Emmett’s turn for his eyes to widen. “Oh.”
“See why I need this? I can’t talk to girls. I don’t like them. How am I to get one to wed me?”
Emmett just stares at him. “So, you like…”
“Yes!” Charles shouts loudly. A few others in the room look over at them momentarily.
“Interesting.”
“How?”
Emmett shrugs, “Just unexpected, I suppose.”
Charles rubs his face in his hands. “I have never said that out loud.”
Surprisingly, Emmett takes the moment to rub his shoulder. “It takes guts. Believe me, society isn’t ready for this, but if that’s what you want…”
“Even if I want it, I can’t act on it.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell my father! Are you insane? He already thinks I am too weak. He made you spell me to become stronger. Imagine if he finds this out as well. Then I will never become the leader.”
Emmett shakes his bright red hair. “I think you need to take some time figuring out what it is that you want and forget about what your father wants from you. It’s not his decision to make.”
Charles gives him a half-smile. “Thank you, Emmett. Please, just keep this between us for now.”
He taps Charles’ jaw lightly. “You know what? Normally, I wouldn’t listen and just tell people. But I like you, Bladesmith. You have guts deep down. So, I’ll keep it our secret.”
“Thank you.”
* ? * ? *
He lives so close to the Sage. It’s barely even a walk, but it’s double the length when he’s inebriated.
Charles is leaving the Sage not long after midnight. Emmett ended up staying for a while, then departing before Charles and the other patrons of the tavern. Charles remembers dancing with a young lady and enjoying himself. He also remembers drinking a few different drinks.
Violet told him to get home when the clock ticked onto the following day, so Charles listened, finishing off his last pint and wobbling slightly on his way out the door.
It’s too late to catch a coach, and the walk isn’t too far. He’s done it dozens of times.
Stepping a little unevenly, Charles pulls his coat closed and steps through the freshly fallen snow. He’s freezing down to his bone marrow, but he will be home shortly. No doubt the fire will be roaring in the parlour. He wonders if his father is home yet or not.
Moving one leg at a time, his mind steadily focuses on where he’s going.
He turns down into the alleyway, which is almost pitch black. Tiny sprinkles of moonlight pepper the way. Charles groans, he could go around, but it will take him an extra five minutes at least, and all he wants is to get home and sleep off the buzzing alcohol.
No, it’ll be fine. He will be fine.
Stalking down the alley, he listens to the soft crunch of frost under his boots. The patter of snow drifting down and adding to the pile already coating the ground. He can’t even make out the cobblestone paving, the alleyway is so thick with snow.
Yawning loudly, Charles rubs at his eyes, which are feeling heavy and full. He needs to sleep off the alcohol and possibly eat some pastries. He’s craving something sugary. And chocolaty. And gooey .
A twig snaps and he halts. His olive eyes peer down. Strange, that didn’t sound like it came from his foot.
Another step.
No, definitely not his foot.
Charles swivels around to see the cloaked figure stalking him. It’s dark in the laneway, but somehow the figure is even darker. His eyes make out the outline. It’s about the same height as him, maybe a little shorter.
“Hello?” Charles’ voice is a little hoarse and shaky.
Is he vibrating from the cold or fear?
The figure takes another step closer.
He has no weapons on him. Nothing to fight with but his trembling bare hands.
He needs to move.
He needs to run.
Charles gulps down a scream and takes off, running as fast as he can in his intoxicated state. His arms extend out from his sides to act as a balance mechanism as he tries his best not to fall over onto his face.
He can see the end of the alleyway. It’s illuminated from the streetlamps beyond. Not much further. He’s almost there.
His shoe catches on a branch that’s buried underneath the snow, and Charles stumbles forward, landing in the frost and rolling onto his back. The figure is on top of him within seconds. Cloaked in darkness, Charles’s heart hammers in his chest.
He stifles a scream once more as the creature holds him down.
“This won’t take long, but it won’t be painless.” It whispers down at him. The hood of her cloak falls backwards, exposing her sharp face and curling black hair.
Charles holds his breath.
That face. He knows that face.
“Daisy?”
“I’d stop talking if I were you,” she continues, “otherwise it’ll hurt even more. ”
A blade appears in her hand and Charles’ eyes flare at the sight. It catches in the dim light. Silver, serrated and dripping with some sort of liquid. “No. Daisy, wake up. This isn’t right. Please!”
“Shut up!” She snarls viciously.
Charles curses colourfully as she pins the blade tip against his side. Charles screams. It’s not by any means a manly scream, but he doesn’t care. It’s his final chance of escaping her.
The dagger pierces his side and a flurry of agony blooms through his muscles and flesh, digging through his insides, tearing him apart.
Pain flares through him, causing Charles to shout out in pain as Daisy twists the blade in his side. Charles tries pushing her off once more when someone comes running for them.
Daisy’s head flashes up, her garnet eyes replaced with onyx ones. She stands, ripping the blade out of his flesh, and takes off down the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.
“Charles!”
He groans, hearing Clarence’s voice. Thank the Angels.
Clarence is in his face now, his tawny hair and blazing hazel eyes. They land on the wound in his side, the dagger now leaving a gaping hole. “What happened?”
Charles grunts, unable to move. The poison is spreading quickly through his veins. “Daisy.” He pants out. Clarence frowns as Charles grabs a hold of his coat with his hand. “Poison.” And he loses all control. His hand falls back into the snow numbly. His body is trying to fight the venom, but all of his senses are lessening.
“I’ve got you.” And Charles feels the snow falling away from him, the ground no longer beneath him. Or possibly Clarence is holding him. He can’t really tell anymore. The world is spinning as his head falls back.
“Thank you.” He expires before slipping into the darkness lurking in his mind like a monster.