Chapter 46 Reunion
Third Person's POV
The bell did not ring the next morning.
For years, every morning, it tolls to govern the servants of the manor. It serves as the reminder, making the days impossible to ignore. It woke the girls, called them to prayer, to lessons, to meals. Its absence felt louder than any clang. The sun is rising but its glory did not seem to reach the faces of the new students. They had a quiet but not so peaceful breakfast. Breads were barely touched. The wine was not enough to make them forget the incident.
"Where is her body? Why aren't we allowed to see Clarina for the last time?" Sylvia opened the table for discussion. Madame Ingrid timidly sipped from her cup of tea.
"We sent her to where she came from, Sylvia. Now, this is not our business anymore, isn't it? I want you ladies to focus on your days here."
"Can we talk to Lord Constantine? We haven't seen him around ever since we came here." Mary Kate insisted.
But all they receive is a plain, "No. You may not." The girls heaved a sigh, fearing for something invisible which has been lingering in their minds. The sudden death of their peer. The mysteries that surrounds it. The possibility of being the next one to lose a life.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the manor, Gertrude lay awake, staring at the canopy above her bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed is Lord Constantine, whose face is painted with worries and anger. He traces his index finger along the ridges of her face. "You do not deserve any of this..." he whispered.
"Do you think... it was never Clarina's intention? How would one decide to end their little life? It's just impossible..." she murmurs and plays with his fingers.
"There is just no way... this was done by a force of evil," he hissed. "Guillaume..." he continued, his eyes burning with guilt and fury.
"What are we going to do now?" she mumbled, stiring her mind with answers.
"The town has been in some quite peace... there is no sign of him. He is somewhere--- somewhere he does not want me to see nor to know." There is warning with the way he threw those words.
"Somewhere far, hopefully?" her forehead crumpled.
"Oddly, near." he answers and kissed her forehead. He does not want scare her away but he felt like he had to tell the truth.
She whimpers and pressed her fingers into the mattress, grounding herself. The room smelled faintly of lavender and melted candles. Normal, ordinary things. Safe things. Yet her chest tightened all the same. She remembered of how his empire was once built in this very manor. But it crumbled and now forgotten. Heaven gave the town the manor and Constantine Haugen as its founder. He strives for about three hundred years, however, Guillaume, the undying and deadly flesh and bones terrorizes him still, preying on his one and only weakness: Gertrude.
A knock came, gentle but deliberate.
Madame Ingrid entered without waiting for permission. She wore black, severe and immaculate, as though she had been dressed for mourning. Her eyes swept the room, pausing on Gertrude and back to the creature.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked.
Gertrude swallowed. “I… slept,” she lied.
Madame Ingrid nodded, satisfied enough. “Good. It will help you heal,"
"And Lord Constantine, the lectures are on pause. The girls are still shocked so as head mistress, I have decided for them to proceed with meditations instead."
“There will be prayers this morning,” the headmistress continued.
Madame Ingrid’s gaze flicked to Constantine. "Do you reckon this school is still a good idea? You are protecting nobody." her tone is filled with her honesty and mockery.
"If you needed to talk, you should have gone told me. Not here." he answered, surprisingly composed.
Madame Ingrid turned to leave, then stopped at the door. “And Gertrude—” She glanced back, her expression unreadable. “It would be best if you did not discuss… well, such details. Memory can be a dangerous thing.” her lips crept up to a cunning smile.
The door closed softly behind her.
"Your sister's strange. She was strange when I first came here. But now, it's getting stronger." Gertrude tilted her head. Constantine's eyes are sharp and serious. "She is not a real sister of mine." he reminded her.
"But do you trust her?" she was hoping for one satisfying answer.
"You are the only one that I trust in this manor, Gertrude." he assured her. His monstrous features in his face is fading; his eyes are becoming mellow, his sharp fangs are no longer reasons to be afraid to anymore. In her eyes, he is just an ordinary man she loves unconditionally.
\---
Haugen manor has always been a fortress of secrets. But since Constantine disclosed his real identity to his bride, a not so long time ago, he feared nothing anymore. As long as they are breathing the same crispy air, they feel safe and they feel home. Meanwhile, beneath the bricked walls of the study of the head mistress, Madame Ingrid poured another drink in her golden goblet. She smiles while stirring the red sticky water. She knows too well it was never wine nor tea, but the blood that once flow through the innocent veins of the deceased young Clarina.
“Children always ask questions,” she murmured. “They always think they see the truth.”
She raised the goblet in a mock toast.
“But the manor remembers better than they do.”
She placed another cup of tea on the tray and walks around her room into another unknown door. She looked side ways and gasped at the sight of the curious black raven bird. "Shoo! Get away, you filth!" she cussed at it, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains down.
Her shadows haunted the corridors. Like a curious person going inside the rabbit hole, only that she knows and has memorized the place all too well. It has gotten darker and every footstep echoes. It looked more of like an abandoned dungeon... a fortress. But it was not Lord Constantine's. It was another creature's.
The heavy door creaked as she entered. "I've got something for you... for your nourishment." the head mistress trailed off and show the rusty tray.
"Come, drink her blood. You will never be hungry again." the head mistress seemed to be satisfied and glorious.
"We will never be apart again, Helga..." his tone is yearning and solved. He toasted and chugged the bloody drink.
"Oh, Guillaume, welcome back home." she whispers and kissed him, sharing the blood in his hungry mouth.